Page 47 of His Auctioned Duchess
And yet, beneath the finery, her pulse drummed restlessly.
When she entered the ballroom, every head turned. A hundred candles blazed above, throwing light upon jewels, gowns, and the delicate flutter of fans. Conversation faltered for a moment, replaced by a collective murmur.The Duke’s intended.
Richard was already there. He stood near the head of the room, impeccably dressed in black and silver, his dark hair tied back, his expression carved in ice. He looked every inch the war hero and every bit the devil society named him.
Their eyes met across the crowd.
Something within her stilled.
He inclined his head in the faintest of acknowledgments, nothing more. Not a word, not a smile.
She, in turn, offered a dazzling one—the kind that could shatter hearts or hide them.
If he meant to maintain distance, she would match him step for step.
The first hour unfolded in a blur of waltzes, laughter, and polite deceit. Caroline was never without company. Lords and officers queued for her attention, eager to claim a smile, a glance, adance. She gave them all freely, though her heart was nowhere in it.
Sophia, radiant in lavender silk, fluttered at her side. “You’re a sensation, Caro! Even Lord Hensley can’t keep from staring, and he hasn’t blinked at a woman in three years.”
“Then he should see an apothecary,” Caroline murmured, though her gaze drifted past the crowd—to him.
Richard was speaking with Louisa and a few gentlemen of rank. His expression never wavered, yet Caroline saw his hand tighten once around his glass when one of her admirers laughed too loudly at her jest.
Sophia caught the direction of her glance and grinned. “Ah, the Duke glowers. Take care, or he’ll frighten half the room.”
“He is welcome to glower,” Caroline said airily. “It is his second-favorite pastime.”
“And the first?”
“Commanding everyone else.”
Sophia giggled, then was swept into a dance by a dashing colonel, leaving Caroline momentarily alone.
Before she could take a breath and move towards herbetrothed, though, Jasper appeared.
He moved through the crowd with the ease of a man who belonged everywhere and trusted no one. His smile was charming; his eyes, cold. “Lady Caroline,” he drawled, bowing low. “Might I claim a moment of your company? I promise not to bite—unless invited.”
“Then I am quite safe,” she replied, though she allowed him to lead her toward the edge of the floor.
The orchestra began a new waltz, the violins swelling, and the dancers spun like petals in motion. Jasper leaned in, voice a velvet whisper meant for her alone.
“You look exquisite tonight. No wonder my cousin can’t take his eyes off you.”
Caroline’s chin lifted. “You exaggerate.”
“Do I?” He smirked. “Ah, but you are still new to his moods. I’ve known Richard since childhood. I can read him better than most.”
“I doubt anyone truly can.”
“That, my dear, is precisely the danger.”
She arched a brow. “And what danger do you imagine me in?”
“The same that has undone every woman who thought she could tame him,” Jasper said smoothly. “He may look at you as if you are his salvation, but you are merely his solution.”
The words struck like frost. “I beg your pardon?”
He smiled faintly, eyes glittering. “Do you think I don’t know why he returned? He needs an heir and while that is to be expected of any duke, it appears he may have convinced you there is more. He chose you not for love, but for convenience. A sensible match—a lively beauty with a respectable name and a fortune that might mend the family coffers. You fit the role perfectly.”
