Page 6 of The Taming of the Duke
“Very well, I shan’t pursue it,” Blanche said. “But will you concede something?”
“Concede what?”
“That if a man is ever to know my character, he must first be permitted totalkto me. Otherwise, he’ll only ever know me for my looks.”
Catherine sighed. Blanche spoke sense. How was a woman supposed to learn about a man’s character? If a man existed who was worthy of Blanche’s trust, how would she ever discover him without engaging in a little private conversation? And, the only acceptable setting for a private conversation was when partnered in a dance.
Blanche took her hand. “Perhaps, Cat, you might permit me to dance with Lord Horton at Lady Hardwick’s house party next week? After all, you cannot expect me to spend the entire time sitting in the corner. And, though I acknowledge your inability to trust a man, I would ask that you trust me to take care of myself. You’ve said yourself that Lord Hardwick is of an admirable character and would never knowingly invite a rogue into his home.”
True, Lord Hardwick was an excellent man, and his wife was one of the few women in society who Catherine could tolerate for more than a few moments—she could almost say that she liked the woman.
“Very well, Blanche. I’ll give you leave to dance with Lord Horton at Hardwick House, if he asks you. But you must bear in mind that Papa won’t let him court you.”
“Not unless a man courtsyoufirst.”
Catherine laughed. “I’m hardly likely to find a man whose company I can tolerate,” she said. “But, perhaps, if it would makeyouhappy, I might make an effort. But he’d have to be an extraordinary man, indeed.”
“Then I must be content with that,” Blanche said. “May I perhaps fetch you a glass of punch to seal our bargain?”
“What bargain?”
“That if we can find an extraordinary man foryou, then you’ll permit him to court you so that I might get to know Lord Horton better.”
Before Catherine could respond, Blanche leaped to her feet and made her way to the punchbowl, where a footman stood waiting.
Catherine smiled inwardly.
Incorrigible child!
Then she checked herself.Good grief—she was sounding like an aged aunt. But that’s exactly what she was, despite being only ten years older than Blanche. Her own dear Mama had died giving birth to a son—a child who’d survived for just a few days. In his desperation for a male heir, Papa had taken a second wife barely a few weeks after Mama’s passing, but Catherine had grown to love Lady Eugenie as a mother. When her stepmother had died giving birth to Blanche, Catherine had taken her baby sister under her wing to protect her from Papa’s bitter resentment.
And she was protecting her now from the predators who circled London’s ballrooms in search of a woman to furnish them with heirs.
Catherine cast her gaze across the ballroom. Papa was nowhere to be seen—most likely still indulging at Lord Wilton’s gaming tables in the room next door. She caught sight of Lord Horton, drinking champagne and laughing, flanked on either side by two men. On the left, was Mr. Horatio Bond, and on the right…
Her heart skipped a beat, and her throat constricted.
The man on his right was the handsomest man she had ever seen. Not just handsome, butdangerouslyso. With jet black hair curling under his chin, he carried a piratical air of savage brutality.
She caught her breath as she took in his strong, masculine features—angular cheekbones which might have been chiseled from marble, a straight nose bearing a slight kink, as if it had been broken in a fight, full red lips which ignited a fire in her belly, thick, dark eyebrows in an angular slash across his forehead.
As for his eyes…
Oh my!His eyes—the color of sapphires—they were fixed on her.
She met his gaze, boldly. Men usually shied away from a woman who dared look them in the eyes, but he held her gaze, his eyes darkening. His frank appraisal ignited a small fire in the pit of her stomach and, though she wanted to look away, her mind willed her not to—as if she were a rabbit transfixed by a predator’s stare. She drew in a breath to clear the fog in her mind, but to her shame, her breasts had grown heavy, and her sensitized nipples beaded against the fabric of her gown.
Then, his glaze flicked down, and she let out a low cry and lifted her hand to conceal her décolletage. As if he read her mind, his lip curled into a smile. A sparkle ignited in the depths of his eyes, and her belly fluttered with a little pulse of longing.
Sweet Lord—how could a man ignite such a fire in her body with a single look?
Stop it!
The voice of reason echoed inside her head, and she drew a sharp breath and forced herself to look away.
What a fool I am!
She had vowed never to be captivated by a handsome face again, but here she was, at the first sight of a man—an undeniably virile-looking man—turning into a giddy schoolgirl.
