Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Iblame myself,” Carrowell said as he helped Yvette limp across the ballroom. Their destination was the back corner where a row of benches was set. “I have a habit of getting carried away.”
“I should take at least some of the blame.” Yvette winced as her twisted ankle came down on the marble floor. “I was the one who fell.”
“But it was I who allowed you to.” Carrowell’s arm was wrapped around her waist, and he took most of her weight. “Lucky that it is only a sprained ankle and not a twisted neck.”
She snorted. “I doubt that was an option.”
“I bet you never knew how dangerous these balls could be,” he joked as he continued to help her walk. “It’s all fun and games, isn’t it? Until someone is hurt.”
“My pride is what hurts the most,” she grimaced. “I do hope that nobody noticed.”
Yvette’s dance with Carrowell had been going so well, too. For the first time all evening, she was able to relax and enjoy herself. Carrowell was a rather fun time; he did not mind making a fool of himself or what people thought, and his sole purpose in life seemed to be to make others laugh.
In hindsight, Yvette had gotten carried away. She was having so much fun that she stopped paying attention, which saw her slip just enough to twist her ankle.
It might have been worse had Carrowell not caught her. If he had not done so, no doubt Yvette would have gone down in a heap, and that would have been a true embarrassment. She could never have shown her face again!
With the dance over, she was determined to hide away, hopefully fade into the background so that nobody would know what happened.
“Here we are…” They reached the benches, and Carrowell helped her to sit.
She winced as she did so, keeping her swollen ankle up because it throbbed when it came anywhere near the ground. “Might you find His Grace for me?” she asked. “I don’t want him thinking that we ran off.”
Carrowell grinned. “Why not? Let us start a rumor together, aye?” She looked at him flatly, and he grimaced. “Jokes, jokes, Miss Norleigh. You sit tight and I will…” He trailed off as he looked through the crowd.
“What? You will what?” She followed Carrowell’s gaze and saw immediately what had silenced him.
It was the Duke, coming right for them. What was more, the urgency of his stride and the hard look on his face made it appear as if he was furious. Yvette could not imagine why he might be… until she saw Carrowell withdraw beside her.
“Carrowell!” Alistair snapped as he came near. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Ah, Alistair…” Carrowell was on his feet, holding his hands out as if in surrender. “I swear, it is not as it looks.”
“And how does it look?”
“She slipped while we were dancing,” he explained. “I was merely carrying her someplace that she might rest her ankle.”
“She…” The Duke started with apparent confusion, even balked as the anger on his face vanished. His frown deepened when he looked from Carrowell to Yvette, a sense of realization slowly setting in, and then he saw her ankle. “You’re hurt!”
It was one of the stranger reactions that Yvette could have imagined.
When she saw the Duke storming toward her, he had looked incensed, which she assumed was on account of her injury. Apparently, he hadn’t even known that she was injured, which made her wonder why he was so angry in the first place.
His anger was for Carrowell… but not because he thought the lord was responsible for my ankle. That begs the question, why was he so filled with fury? Was it because… because he saw the man leading me away?
The mere thought of that made her heart flutter. That the Duke was so protective of her that he would be brought to such a rage at the idea that another was trying to steal her...
“It is not so bad,” Yvette said shyly. “Merely a sprain.”
“I was going to retrieve some ice…” Carrowell looked around, seemingly desperate to remove himself from the circumstance.
“Not here.” The Duke looked around them, and she saw him take note of those who were nearby. People were starting to stare, and more were starting to whisper. “Somewhere more private… There are rooms just beyond the hall, one of those should be free to use.”
The Duke stepped close to Yvette, and she expected him to offer a hand for her to stand, that he would help her walk through the hall and to one of these spare rooms. The Duke, however, had other ideas.
Without another word said, he crouched down, slipped his hands under her legs and back, and lifted her into the air as if she weighed nothing.
“Oh!” she yelped in surprise.
“I have you,” he told her as his strong arms held her tight to his body.
Her arms went naturally around his neck, and soon their faces were inches apart. “I know that you do,” she said sheepishly. “I trust you.”
Yvette’s heart thundered in her chest. Her body trembled. And a warm sensation spread through her limbs so that she was sure that the Duke could feel how hot she had suddenly become. But she kept a hold of his eyes, wanting him to see her gratitude… and how comfortable she was.
Around them, she sensed people watching on. And she noticed Carrowell take a step back in surprise at how forward the Duke was being. But still, the Duke carried her, no sense at all that he cared what others thought of his actions.
“Shall I…” Carrowell cleared his throat. “I shall fetch the ice and come find you. Yes… that is… I will be right back.”
The Duke did not spare a glance for his friend, just as he did not waste time looking at the crowd.
With Yvette held firm in his arms, he carried her down the length of the ballroom and out a side doorway that led into an expansive hall.
There, he walked a little further until they came upon a spare room.
He carried her into the room, aiming for a double bed in the corner. She guessed this to be a room for guests of the manor; it was richly decorated and the décor was splendid, but it also felt empty and not lived in.
The Duke reached the cot and gently placed her down…
“Careful,” he said as she settled. “Watch your ankle.” He was so gentle with her, so careful not to touch her ankle or hurt it. “You did this dancing?” Without asking, his hands slipped down her leg and wrapped her calf so that he could better see her swollen ankle.
Yvette’s entire body shook with nervous energy. The Duke was crouched right in front of her. Her leg was in his hands. They were alone, and such was the closeness of the scene that if anyone came in and found them, it would surely create a scandal.
She also did not care.
“My fault,” she said as the Duke held her leg out, ensuring the ankle did not touch the ground.
She did her best to ignore the way his hand held her leg, the feel of his fingers on her skin, the way her skin prickled at his touch, so that she could feel it in her heart.
“I… I got a little carried away and slipped.”
“Yes…” He focused on her ankle, as if he was afraid to look her in the eyes. “I saw that you were enjoying yourself.”
“I was,” she said, noting the change in tone. “Is that a problem?”
“What?” His eyes widened, he glanced at ger, then looked away. “Not at all. I just meant… if I had been the one dancing with you, I would have made sure that you did not fall.”
“And why weren’t you?” she asked. “The one dancing with me.”
It surprised her when he smiled. She thought he would shy away again. She assumed he would realize what he was implying and do as he always did; that being, changing the subject. But his smile was earnest and pure, and he looked at her properly, no shyness, no sense of shame.
Her heart flipped when she realized what the look in his eyes meant.
No… it can’t be…
“Next time,” he said softly, still with a wry smile. “I missed my chance tonight, but I owe you a dance.”
“I would like that,” she said, her heart racing. “Very much.”
The Duke went back to studying her swollen ankle.
It was black and blue, and it throbbed terribly.
In truth, Yvette hardly noticed the pain.
She was far too preoccupied with the situation at hand.
The Duke, on his knees before her. Her leg in his hands.
How soft and tender was his touch; his fingers traced her skin, and she trembled from it.
Beyond that, she watched his face. His brow was furrowed, he was deep in thought, and she could sense a question coming long before he spoke it. A question that, no doubt, took him much effort to ask.
“Might I… might I ask you a personal question, Miss Norleigh?” he said eventually, his voice soft, speaking into his chest as if he hoped she might not hear.
“Anything.”
“I have wondered… not too much, but the thought has crossed my mind.” He hesitated as he stared at her ankle, unable to bring himself to look at her. “Have you married before?”
“What?” she said with surprise.
“I meant nothing by it,” he hurried to explain.
“It is just strange to me that someone of your… beauty might not have found themselves a man to wed. And I have seen how you are with Hugh, and heard how you were with the children that your parish fed. You seem to have a natural inclination toward motherhood…”
“Which requires me to marry?”
“It is natural, no?” His cheeks turned a light shade of red, and still he could not bring himself to look at her. “To wish for a family. One that includes a husband, as well as children.”
“Perhaps there is something wrong with me?” she said defensively.
He laughed. “I doubt that very much.”
Yvette considered dismissing the question. She had a good inclination as to why the Duke was asking this, but she would not dare to push further on it. Better to leave such wonderings alone and do as she always did when this topic was raised: ignore it.
And she almost did just that… until she looked closer at the Duke.