Page 54 of Duke Most Wicked

Dancing was a mating ritual, as the duke had observed. And mating was on her mind.

She had a bodily reaction when she saw him that she couldn’t control. He was so wholly bad and dangerous. So virile. She imagined that the way she felt about him was similar to the way he felt about gambling. A dangerous occupation, fraught with an illicit thrill, the possibility of lasting harm, a compulsion.

It wasn’t love; it was compulsion.

She craved him like a gambler craved the rattle of dice. Like a drunkard craved strong spirits.

This craving was bad for her heart, her mind. It was bad. Simply bad. And every time she resolved never to think about him again it never worked.

“Are you having fun?” Westbury asked when they were paired again.

“I’ll admit that you were right. I do like dancing,” she said, a little breathlessly, as they met and his hands clasped hers.

“You see?” He grinned. “It’s not so difficult to admit that I’m right.”

His smile was dazzlingly intimate. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile at her before. “You should smile more often, Your Grace.”

“I don’t make a habit of it, Miss Beaton. But perhaps you bring it out in me. You’re always smiling. It takes a concerted effort not to join in.”

“What is life without joy?”

“Dry toast with no butter?”

Another intimate exchange of smiles. This could begin to be a habit. Giving smiles and having them returned by handsome dukes.

Handsome dukes who were engaged to other ladies.

The dance separated them and brought her back to Mr. Finchley. The set ended and he made his bows and sought his next partner.

Would Westbury claim the next dance, as he’d promised? What if it were a waltz—she’d be held in his arms, just the two of them... floating on the music of violins, exchanging smiles and—

“Miss Beaton, is it?”

It was Miss Chandler standing before her,looking Viola up and down with an unsubtle appraisal.

“Yes. Are you having a good time, Miss Chandler?”

“I do love balls.” She flicked her skirts away from silver slippers that sparkled with diamonds. “My, I’m fatigued from dancing so much.” She fanned herself, glancing over as Westbury brought Blanche a glass of punch. “Westbury’s monstrously handsome, isn’t he?”

“He’s pleasing enough,” Viola said cautiously.

“It’s convenient that the highest title in the room goes with the most handsome face in the room. And he’s all mine. See how Lady Dexter is glaring. She hates my triumph. He’s doing a wonderful job of pretending to be in love with me. I have to remember to reciprocate.” She caught Westbury’s eye and wriggled her fingers at him.

“You’re only pretending to be in love with him?”

“I’m not going to fall in love with my husband. Don’t be silly.” She laughed. “You’re so quaint. I heard that you’re living in the dower house.” All laughter left her eyes. “Should I be jealous?”

Viola nearly took a step back. The intensity of her stare caught her off guard.

“Er, of course not.”

Miss Chandler giggled. “Oh, I know, I know. I’m only joking.” She tapped Viola on the shoulder with her fan. “You’re penniless. Though you are pretty. Or you could be, if you had a new gown and tried a different way of dressing your hair.”

“There’s no need for that. I’m not here to find a match.”

“Oh, aren’t you? I could have sworn I saw you dancing. Well, never mind. I’m sure you’ll do your duty and restrict yourself to watching the girls from now on.”

Viola gave her a tight smile. “Of course.”

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