Page 58 of The Deception (Baron 3)

She said, “Yes,” but she was looking at his shadowed face.

“Do you like to waltz, your grace?” “Yes,” he said.

“He’s one of the best dancers in all of London,” Marianne Clothilde said.

“You’re his mother. You must say all manner of things because it is your duty to do so.”

“Do you really think so, Evangeline? I’m not so certain. Were I younger, why, I believe I should fall in love with him just as all the other ladies do.”

“I hope there will be enough sober gentlemen who can waltz well,” Evangeline said.

They heard the strains of the German waltz. It made her tap her foot in the carriage. She wondered if John Edgerton would be present. She knew she had to see him, but she didn’t want to, not tonight. Tonight she wanted a bit of enjoyment for herself, a few hours to forget what she’d done and what she was.

At the top of massive stone steps, a butler, looking dashing in a bright red velvet doublet, stiff white ruff, and the hose of the sixteenth century, said, “Your grace, welcome.” The duke slipped on his mask, as did Marianne Clothilde. Evangeline’s was already firmly in place. No one knew her here. She could do as she pleased. She gave the duke a wicked smile as she placed her hand on his other arm. The butler led them up a wide staircase, past dozens of laughing guests dressed in outlandish fashions. There were footmen everywhere, dressed as courtiers from Queen Bess’s court. They should have looked ridiculous, but in the sparkling, outrageously garbed company they looked dashing.

“I want you to enjoy yourself tonight,” Marianne Clothilde said to Evangeline when the duke turned to speak to one of his friends. “My son is being proprietary, which I find quite charming. Normally he is anything but. Yes, do have fun, Evangeline.”

“It is kind of you to invite me, your grace. Thank you. I don’t think it would be possible not to enjoy oneself here,” she added, looking about her. “How can one possibly dance? There are so many people.” “You will need an experienced partner,” the duke said as he again took her arm. “I daresay that I will manage quite nicely.”

“Not just yet, dearest,” said Marianne Clothilde. “Here’s Lady Sanderson, dressed as a Roman matron. I suppose it is clever. Lucille, how are you? Such a delightful evening. And so very many guests.”

“Yes,” said Lady Sanderson. “It’s so very nice, isn’t it? Now, who is this person with her hand on our dear duke’s arm?”

“This is Madame de la Valette, Lucille. She is a cousin.”

“A cousin? I do wish I could see your face, my dear. I hope you’re lovely enough for our duke. He’s so very amiable, yet it is difficult to present young ladies who will please him. You are relatively young, aren’t you? He has very high standards, doesn’t he? So fickle. How are Sabrina and Phillip, your grace? Did you feel any more of the tender emotions toward her when you saw her married to one of your oldest friends? She is breeding, you know.”

The duke, who was quite used to Lucille’s heavy hand, her relentless monologues meant to distress, amuse, and outrage, merely smiled and said, “Everything is in its proper place. Madame de la Valette is quite young, and tolerably toothsome. Bring me no chattering debutantes, Lucille. Now, if you ladies will excuse us, Madame and I will waltz. Do you think you’re spry enough, Evangeline?” he added in a low voice.

“I’m wavering, your grace, but I shall try. Goodness, that woman is amazing.”

“Yes, and Lady Sanderson knows well what she’s about.”

“There are always so many cousins,” they heard Lady Sanderson saying to Marianne Clothilde. “I hope this one isn’t destitute as most of them are.”

“Ignore her,” the duke said. “If you don’t, you will make me think you’re a fool. The crimson domino looks well on you, quite wicked, just as you wished. I would like to see you in Lady Sanderson’s Roman gown. It would doubtless drape magnificently over your breasts.” There, he thought, that should get her mind off what Lady Sanderson had said. “Waltz with me, Evangeline.”

“Oh, yes,” she said and raised her arms. Marianne Clothilde was looking at her son and the cousin. She said thoughtfully, “They waltz well together. In fact, they look quite perfect.” “She is very tall.”

“The duke is also very tall. He detests getting cricks in his neck. Now, Lucille, do you think you could conjure up a suitable partner for me?”

The duke’s hand tightened about Evangeline’s waist as he guided her expertly through a crowded knot of dancers.

“To be fair,” Evangeline said, panting slightly from being whirled about at least a dozen times, “you do dance well.”

“Dancing well, like good manners, was bred deep into my bones.” “You won’t let me forget that, will you?” “Probably, if you distract me.” He smiled down at her and saw that her eyes were glowing behind her mask. He saw a portion of the dance floor that was relatively free and whirled her around in wide circles. She laughed aloud, nearly humming in her pleasure.

When he was forced to rein in his steps, she said, “Is there anything that you don’t do well?” “Do I sniff a compliment? Surely not.” “Forgive me. I believe it was a compliment. Do you want me to take it back?”

He lowered his head and touched his chin for an instant against her hair. Her hair smelled faintly of roses. “There are a goodly number of things I’d like to do better.” “For instance?”

“Ah, an example? Very well. When you enrage me, I would like to be able to hold to my anger just a bit longer. But the fact is, if you come close enough, then I grab you and I forget I want to strangle you. I want to strip off your clothes and pull you beneath me and kiss you until you’re quite red in the face and then—” “That example was too detailed. It isn’t designed to maintain any sort of equilibrium.”

“Well, yes. It did something to you. You’ve stepped on my foot at least three times now since I started with the details. Do you know that I’d even like to just lie beside you and look at you for a very long time, not even kiss you or examine every last inch of you, no, just look at you because you please me. Oh, yes, you’re an excellent dancer. Not quite at my level, but with practice you will match me perfectly.”

All she had in her mind was a very clear picture of herself, lying quite naked, with him over her, looking at her, but interspersed with those looks were kisses. She gulped, then smiled. “You know, your grace, after you’ve looked your fill at me, I should like to look at you, at great length, indeed, until I am perhaps on the old and withered side.”

It was like a fist to the belly. He could only stare at her, this woman who’d just knocked him down and made him so hard he thought he’d spill his seed in the very next instant. The orchestra ended the waltz; because they were both breathing hard, they stood there, staring at each other, until the duke became aware of laughter, aimed at them. Good God, he’d lost himself co

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