Page 66 of The Duke of Desire
She stepped on his foot again.
“I take it this surprises you,” he observed wryly.
“Immensely. I believed our association to be at an end.”
“Ah, well. I did not. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to return to Greensward before the party concluded. I missed you by just one day.”
She heard the regret in his tone and couldn’t quite believe it. No, she had to have misheard that. “The weather was quite poor.”
“It was horrendous. I’m still angry about it.”
She tipped her head to the side. “You’re angry at the weather?”
“For keeping me fromyou.”
Thatshe didn’t mishear. How could she?
“You shouldn’t say such things in the middle of the dance floor.”
“Then tell me where Ishouldsay them, and I’d be happy to oblige.” He gave her a sultry, provocative stare, and she wanted to melt into a puddle.
This simply would not do. Ivy liked her ordered, respectable life. She’d allowed herself a brief transgression at Greensward, but that was in the past. “Not only did I believe our association was at an end, I want it to be.” She averted her gaze and watched the ballroom swirl by as they moved. She immediately got a bit dizzy.
“Don’t say that. Please.” The plea was soft but urgent. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About Greensward.”
Her heart clenched, and the room swam. She tried to focus on something, and her gaze landed on a gentleman nearby. He seemed familiar somehow, but she couldn’t place his thinning sandy hair or his paunchy frame. The music slowed, and they came to a halt. He turned his head toward her, and she saw his eyes—a bright blue with just a hint of violet, like speedwell flowers. She knew those eyes anywhere.
And then she did the absolutely unthinkable. She fainted.
West caught her before she fell to the floor. He’d sensed her equilibrium was off after she’d pulled her attention from him and had been about to tell her to look at him, not the ballroom. But he’d become distracted by what she’d said. She didn’t want to see him.
As he swept her into his arms, he registered the gasps and rush of conversation around him.
One of the young women who’d been with Ivy strode toward him, her expression grim. “Follow me.” She was joined by the other young woman, and they quickly preceded West from the ballroom.
He followed them into the vestibule, where a footman directed them toward a retiring room.
The dark-haired woman with sharp hazel eyes turned toward him. “Give us a moment.”
She and the other woman, a pretty brunette with an array of curls spilling from her elaborate hairstyle, hurried into the retiring room.
Several people had followed him from the ballroom. He turned to give them what he hoped was a ducal stare. “Give the lady some space, please.” He didn’t want any of them coming closer, or worse, accompanying them into the chamber.
A moment later, the dark-haired woman poked her head out and waved him inside.
West carried Ivy into the room as she began to stir in his arms. In truth, he was loath to put her down, but the other women hovered near a chaise and indicated he should deposit her there.
As he laid her on the soft brocade, her eyes peeled open. She looked confused, then blinked. Then her eyes focused on him. He stayed bent over her, probably far closer than he ought, but he didn’t care.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Her voice was low and raspy. Seductive if he were honest. He shouldn’t think of such things just now, but she made it difficult not to, particularly with the anxious way she was looking at him. “Did Ifaint?”
He nearly laughed at her self-derision. “It would seem so, yes.”
The dark-haired woman squatted down on the other side of the chaise. “Ivy, what happened?”
She looked over at the woman. “I’m not entirely sure. We were dancing, and then—”
