Page 41 of The Duchess Trap
Catherine’s skin crawled. Duncan inclined his head the barest fraction, his expression unreadable.
“Felton,” he said.
“May I offer my congratulations?” Felton purred. “A splendid match. London will not stop speaking of it.” His gaze lingered on Catherine a moment too long, his smile a shade too wide. “And you, Your Grace, you outshine every lady in the room.”
Her stomach twisted. She managed a curtsy, her voice cool. “You are kind, my lord.”
“Merely truthful, Your Grace, not kind,” he said smoothly.
I know you are not kind,she wished to respond.You do not have a kind bone in your body.
Duncan’s hand brushed hers, only a whisper of contact, but enough to ground her. His voice, when it came, was low. “Excuse us, Felton. There are others to greet.”
“Of course,” Lord Felton said with mock warmth, bowing again. “Enjoy your evening.”
They moved away, Catherine’s heart pounding, every nerve on edge. She glanced up at Duncan, searching his face for any sign of the fury she felt, but he gave her nothing.
She leaned toward him slightly, her fan trembling against her gloved fingers. “How can you stand there so calm,” she whispered, “when you see a snake like Lord Felton standing before us?”
His head dipped closer, his voice low and rough against her ear. “Who told you I was calm?”
She blinked up at him, startled. “Your face. You look as though nothing touches you.”
“Not everything is the way it appears,” he said, eyes holding hers for one charged instant.
Before she could press him, another voice rang out, far too familiar. “Your Graces! I would bow, but I fear the sight of such beauty might unbalance me completely.”
Catherine turned, her breath catching anew, to see Lord Suthmeer, Duncan’s friend, cutting through the crowd toward them. He bowed with an exaggerated flourish, his grin broad, his eyes alight with mischief.
“Lord Suthmeer,” she curtsied at him, “a pleasure to see you.”
“Your Grace,” he said to her, then kissed her hand. “The pleasure is entirely mine. I suspect half the ladies here will abandon their dances in despair.”
“Oh, my lord,” she said warmly, dipping her head as he released her hand. “You flatter me.”
“As every man in this room should. Especially my friend here.” He turned towards the Duke. “I must say, Duncan, you keep her well-hidden. One might think you were afraid someone else might steal her.”
“Suthmeer,” the Duke grunted, his eyes narrowing.
Lord Suthmeer’s eyes glinted at Duncan, ensuring he heard every word. “I believe I am quite ruined already by you, Your Grace. Though I suspect your husband will never forgive me for admitting it.”
Her laugh broke free, her hand rising instinctively to cover her mouth.
She dared a glance at Duncan then. His aloofness had somehow faltered; He appeared to be doing his best to contain a smile.
“Go on,” she prompted. “Indulge yourself.”
Duncan tipped his head back and laughed, which drew a reaction from her core, as well as a ripple of guffaws from his friend.
I made him smile. He laughed because I drew it out of him.
The idea thrilled her more than it ought. She lingered in the moment deliberately, exchanging another smile with Lord Suthmeer, her cheeks still warm, her laughter light on her lips.
Before she could think of what to say to coax a second genuine laugh from her husband, another voice interrupted. “Catherine!”
Helen appeared, her cheeks flushed, her curls arranged tightly about her face, her eyes sparkling with delight.
She seized Catherine’s hands at once. “You look magnificent, darling!”
