Chapter Three #4
Margaret’s breath caught in her throat. ‘What? Me? What?’ She hated to think what her mother had said.
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure all your deepest, darkest secrets are still safe.’
Margaret could assure him she had no secrets, deep or dark. Well, apart from one unfortunate incident in her first Season, but her mother knew little of the real details of what had happened with the Earl of Covington and, even if she did, was unlikely to have mentioned it to the Duke.
‘So, what did she say?’
The Duke tapped the side of his nose. ‘That, I’m afraid, is between your mother and myself.’
Before she had a chance to question him further, the music started, and they moved off at a pace even more energetic than that of the polka.
Once again, dancing with him was wonderful.
The confident way he swung her around the floor made her feel as light as a feather.
Part of her wanted to resist him, but most of her found it thrilling to be in the arms of such a commanding man and she soon lost herself completely in the galop’s joyful exuberance, and even found herself laughing with giddy pleasure when the Duke lifted her up and twirled her around.
Laughing at a ball, that was something else she had never before done.
‘That was fun,’ he said with a bow, when they came to a halt.
Still smiling, her breath coming rapidly, hopefully from the dance and not because she could still feel the warmth of his touch on her waist, she curtsied. ‘Yes, it was.’
He placed both hands on the top of her arms. She froze, stunned by this act of possessive familiarity, but not entirely averse to it. ‘I’m sure your dance card is filling up, but remember to save the last waltz for your fiancé.’
‘Yes, yes. Um, now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to my mother.’
With that she rushed off. She did need to talk to her mother and find out what they had discussed during their dance, but it was also wisest to get away from the Duke so she would stop acting like an awkward ninny just because he had touched her in such a surprising manner.
Before she could reach her mother, Lord Templeton halted her progress, bowed in front of her and asked for the next dance.
Her interrogation of her mother would have to wait.
When that dance finished she found herself being led back onto the floor by yet another man. And so the night continued. While she was on the floor for every dance, each time with a different man, the Duke danced with each of the mamas in turn, and several times with her own mother.
As much as she was enjoying herself, she couldn’t entirely shake off the anxiety that she would soon be back in the Duke’s arms for the final waltz.
The last dance was announced. She waited on the edge of the dancefloor as he crossed the room towards her, his eyes fixed on hers. She did her best not to act like a coy debutante, waiting expectantly for the man she was enamoured with, a fight she suspected she was in danger of losing.
He bowed in front of her, sent her one of those disarming smiles then led her back onto the dancefloor.
‘So, how is the engagement going so far?’ he asked as they spun around the floor.
‘Exhausting. I’ve never danced so much in my life,’ she said with a little laugh, while trying to ignore the effect of once again being surrounded by his scent of sandalwood and the warmth of his body.
‘Well, if that is how you look when you are exhausted, I recommend you tire yourself out more often.’
She gave a forced laugh. ‘We made a contract, remember? No false flattery.’
‘I assure you, it is the truth. You have a delightful flush on your cheeks and a pretty glint in your eyes. Anyone would think you really were a young woman in love.’
‘Well, they’d be wrong,’ she snapped back, horrified that he could say such a thing.
‘Yes, they’d be wrong about the reason, but not wrong in thinking you look stunning. That is why these men all want to dance with you.’
‘Nonsense. They just think my value has increased because I’m engaged to a duke.’
He looked at her, as if assessing her reaction. ‘You don’t like being complimented, do you?’
Margaret could say she’d had so little practice she didn’t really know how she was supposed to react.
‘Perhaps you should just accept that, no matter what the reason, tonight you are the belle of the ball. You danced with every man present, and the other young ladies were all looking at you with the greatest of envy.’
‘Well, yes, I’m supposedly engaged to a duke. Of course they think they have reason to envy me.’
‘Again she proves she does not like to be given compliments, even honest ones.’
No, again she proves it is something with which she is completely unfamiliar.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to give you one more compliment, so brace yourself.’
Margaret did exactly that, dreading what he had to say, but also, annoyingly, hoping he would once again flatter her.
‘I believe you are going to make the perfect fake fiancée and I look forward to our fake courtship.’
Margaret laughed in nervous relief. ‘Under the circumstances, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.’
‘Believe me, it is a compliment. So, let’s enjoy this last dance at our first ball and promise to try and enjoy our fake engagement.’
Margaret nodded. He was right. Despite the turbulence of her confusing emotions, she had enjoyed the evening.
She had smiled more than she usually did and had even laughed on occasion.
She hadn’t been anywhere close to the wallflowers’ corner and had danced more at this ball than all the ones she had attended in the last three Seasons combined.
There were definite advantages to being betrothed to a duke, even if it was all fake.
And that was the catch. Despite the fun she’d had, despite how much she loved dancing with him, that was something she must never forget.
It would be a danger to her emotional wellbeing if she started to delight too much in the Duke’s company and forgot he was using her to silence a scandal with another woman.
She moved slightly closer to him. Yes, it would be sheer folly to ever think any of this was real.