Page 49 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

The smallest child burst into tears.

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“Ah, there you are. Just in time for the waltz.” Prince Karl offered his arm as if Cecelia belonged to him. She wanted to say that she was already engaged for this dance, but it wasn’t true. She had only just arrived at the ball, and he was the first to approach her.

Cecelia looked up at the tall, blond figure. The prince’s dress was always vaguely military, without being a uniform. He was undeniably handsome, with his pale skin, jutting cheekbones, and hazel eyes. The satirical set of his lips was…intriguing. He appeared constantly, distantly amused, as if the world was a comedy presented for his entertainment. It made her wonder about his opinion of England.

With James’s disappearance, society seemed to have decided that there was an agreement between her and the prince, even though nothing had been settled or announced. Prince Karl’s attitude certainly encouraged this view. His proprietary air annoyed her, but she also felt a lingering enjoyment at her new status in theton. To become an acknowledged belle at this stage was a guilty pleasure. Cecelia felt she shouldn’t savor it, but now and then she still did. She accepted his arm and walked onto the floor.

The music began. Prince Karl pulled her slightly too close—not quite to the point where a young lady might complain. But very nearly there. A quick glance told her that he knew this. He had judged it to a nicety. And he was enjoying his own skills.

He was a good dancer. He added turns and flourishes that drew admiring glances. His arm at her waist was masterful. His conversation was more interesting than many another man’s. He seemed truly interested in her ideas. She couldn’t say if the partiality he exhibited was love. She didn’t know him well enough.

But there were quite a few points in his favor, and he seemed primed to offer for her. Briefly, she contemplated accepting him. To actually become a princess would have been unimaginable a few short weeks ago. But the title wasn’t the chief temptation. Prince Karl opened the possibility of a more adventurous life than she’d thought to have. She would live in another country, learn a new language and customs. She might even contribute to the welfare of a different people. The prince seemed ready to listen to her. That was an interesting thought. If James had not existed, she might have…

But he did. And Cecelia wasn’t certain she would ever feel as deeply about another man. Even though that was folly.

“Daydreaming, Miss Vainsmede?” Prince Karl asked. “Is my dancing…insufficiently exciting?”

The look he gave her promised more earthy attractions. Cecelia’s cheeks heated. “Not at all.”

“Ah. That is good. I am pleased I have the ability to…excite you.”

This was more than light flirtation. It skirted very near the line. “Dancing is always invigorating,” she replied.

He smiled down at her, acknowledging an evasion. That was another thing: he was intelligent. She could never pledge herself to a stupid man.

The music ended. Prince Karl held her for a moment longer than was strictly proper, releasing her just as she might have protested. Cecelia gave him raised brows. He laughed as he stepped away. His games were an innovation in her life. She had to admit that.

Cecelia turned toward Sarah and Charlotte, who were standing on one side of the ballroom. When they reached them, the prince bowed over her hand. “Alas that I must dance with another,” he said. Nodding to the other young ladies, he moved away.

“Not one of us apparently, Sarah,” said Charlotte.

“Shh! He’ll hear.”

“I don’t think he or I would care if he did,” replied Charlotte.

“You don’t like Prince Karl?” Cecelia asked her.

Charlotte started to speak, paused, then said, “I’m not certain whether it’s that, or merely pique at being so thoroughly ignored.”

“He is extremely…focused,” said Sarah.

“You are excessively kind,” replied Charlotte. “I have always said so.”

“Thank you.”

“I did not mean it as a compliment.”

Cecelia laughed as the two exchanged grimaces that had surely originated at a much earlier age.

Another set was forming. They were all invited to join it, and the ball made its stately, predictable way through the night. Prince Karl did approach Cecelia for a second dance, but this time shewasspoken for. He received her refusal with gratifying regret.

Cecelia danced. She partook of the delicate supper provided. She danced some more. She missed James, whose absence was still a sensation among theton. They had stood up together at nearly every ball in the last two seasons. It was odd to attend one without his suave presence. At least people had stopped asking if she knew where he’d gone. She’d honestly denied it at the beginning. Now that she knew, she preferred not to lie.

She was still thinking about him the following morning when a footman found her in the drawing room and handed her a folded note. Opening it, she recognized James’s handwriting. “Who brought this?”

“A street urchin pushed it into my hand and ran away,” the footman replied disapprovingly.

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