Page 68 of A Duchess Bound
Was that young man the reason for Bridget’s secrecy? Who was he?
“You look especially lovely tonight,” Gerard said. “Your modiste is quite talented. The bodice of your gown frames your bosom so very nicely.”
Dorothy’s breath hitched. She looked frantically around to see if anyone might have heard, but no other lords or ladies were standing nearby.
“I want to cup your breasts as tenderly as that fabric,” he said. “Your breasts are so soft and inviting, and I am thinking about how delightful it would be to touch you right now, here in the ballroom where everyone might see.”
Dorothy forced her attention back to her sister, trying to calm her racing pulse through the sheer force of her will.
“And I would coax those lovely pink nipples into little peaks.”
She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. There did not seem to be enough air in the ballroom, and a quick, furtive glance downward revealed that the blush from her face had spread to the tops of her breasts. Dorothy’s mouth was dry.
Although only Gerard seemed to be paying her any mind, Dorothy still had the horrible notion that someone else might be watching her. She swallowed hard. The thought should have quelled all the heat surging through her, but instead, her desire only seemed to heighten. She pressed her thighs together, trying to force herself to maintain a stoic façade.
“I would like to bind you to my bed and have my way with you,” he murmured.
A gasp tore from her throat, and Gerard chuckled, the sound dark and amused. The image that materialized in Dorothy’s mind was so alluring and wondrous that her thighs quivered.
For a beat, he said nothing. The only sounds were the cheerful tune of a waltz and her own increasingly ragged breaths for air. She had lost sight of Bridget. Dorothy ground her teeth together, her eyes snapping over the dancefloor. There!
Bridget was dancing still, no worse for wear.
“You…” she trailed off. Dorothy tilted her head and looked askance at Gerard, grimly satisfied when he met her gaze. “You had the chance to do that, and you would not. Why did you refrain?”
“I had my reasons.”
“Of course.”
The dance ended. Dorothy steeled herself and left the wall, drawing some comfort from imagining Gerard staring longingly after her.
“Are you certain that you do not wish to speak with Lady Agatha?” Bridget asked. “I seem to recall the two of you having a common interest in embroidery.”
Dorothy shook her head and took a sip of lemonade. Bridget, who stood beside her, frowned.
“You cannot be enjoying yourself,” Bridget said, “following me around throughout the night. You must want some short respite to speak with old acquaintances.”
Bridget was clearly trying to dissuade Dorothy from watching her throughout the night, probably so she could sneak away and meet that young, dark-haired man again. When Dorothy had asked who he was, Bridget had waved a dismissive hand and insisted that she did not know the gentleman’s name. Dorothy suspected that her sister was feigning ignorance.
What could be the reason for Bridget’s continued secrecy, though? Did she have reason to suspect that Dorothy would notapprove of the young man? Dorothy’s pulse quickened. If that was the reason for Bridget’s hesitation, Dorothy must devise some means of dissuading her sister from spending more time in that man’s company.
“If acquaintances care to speak to me, they will approach us,” Dorothy said. “Thus far, they have not. I imagine that many of them are more interested in searching for suitable gentlemen.”
“Some of them are already wed,” Bridget insisted, “or else, they are spinsters.”
“Nevertheless, they will approach me if they wish to speak.”
Bridget finished her glass of lemonade. “I wish to dance with Lord Edmonton.”
“A respectable man,” Dorothy said. “Let us take a turn about the ballroom and look for him.”
Bridget set a brisk pace, Dorothy following close behind. They had gone nearly halfway around the ballroom when Bridget abruptly halted. Elias stood nearby, drinking with some of his friends. One of them was Gerard. Dorothy tore her gaze away, even as her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.
“Elias, I wish to leave,” Bridget said. “I have a dreadful headache.”
Dorothy blinked at her sister, taken aback. “You said nothing to me.”
Elias frowned and looked between the two of them. Bridget conspicuously did not meet either Dorothy’s gaze or his.
