Chapter 3
Three
Deena’s lips parted, and she let out a small gasp the moment Austin drew her into their first turn. Every rational thought of his was scattered.
She feels… perfect.
Her body moved with his as though they had danced a hundred times before.
The curve of her waist beneath his palm was warm and supple, and the subtle press of her frame against his chest sent heat straight through his body.
He could feel the quick rise and fall of her breathing, and the faint tremor she tried to hide in her soft hands.
This is Dominic’s sister. She is off-limits. Sacred.
And that single fact made the forbidden fruit of her infinitely sweeter.
“Am I that terrible at dancing?” Her soft voice splintered his thoughts.
“Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“You’re frowning.”
“I am just…thinking.”
“About how terrible I dance?”
“No. You dance beautifully,” he murmured, low enough for only her ears. “Someone in Paris taught you well.”
“Someone in Paris taught me many things,” she replied, green eyes meeting his without flinching. “But it was in London where I learned to dance.”
“Have you not danced with a man in Paris?”
“The last I danced was at my debut…”
He spun her through a tighter turn, drawing her fractionally closer than propriety allowed. The floral scent of her rose between them, and he breathed her in deeply.
“When did you return to England?” he asked, trying to anchor himself in conversation rather than sensation.
“Only yesterday.”
“So soon? Dominic said nothing of it, although he was hopeful.”
“I decided to surprise him.” Her tone was dry. “Or, as Grandmother taught us, I decided to ambush him.”
Austin’s lips curved. “An ambush. How very Archdall of you.”
She tilted her head. “I’m curious…”
Austin raised a brow. “I fear your curiosity, but do go on?”
“Have you really seduced scores of young ladies in and outside of London?”
Austin let out a bark of laughter, caught off guard by her question. “Deena, I am a gentleman—”
“So, it is not true?” she frowned up at him, and Austin knew that she found out who he was.
“A true gentleman never reveals his secrets; we keep our ladies safe that way.” He winked at her, hoping it would work like a charm on her as it did for every other young lady, but instead she rolled her eyes.
“Safe? You break their hearts and ruin them.” She scoffed.
Austin was not sure why he felt stung by her words. “I am unsure about what you have heard of me, but I can assure you that it is not my intention to break hearts.”
“Of course it is not,” she replied drily. “And what of your mistresses scattered around London?”
“Hmm.” He hummed as they waltzed. “Where have you heard about such things?”
He felt her pulse race and watched her skin bloom under his steady gaze.
“From…the whispers in the ton,” she said on a shaky breath.
“I do not keep mistresses.” He twirled her around and brought her back to him. “And I have never had any complaints from the women in my past.”
She swallowed. “I’m starting to believe they call you the arrogant duke instead.”
He tilted his head back and let out a laugh. “Some do.”
“Do you ever tire of having to keep a certain… reputation?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “But reputations are like armor. They’re easier to wear than the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
He studied her before answering. “That even dukes want to be wanted for more than a title.”
Austin noticed a flicker of understanding in her eyes before she looked away.
“And do you believe you’ll find that here?” She looked around the ballroom dully as they danced. “Amongst Grandmother’s carefully selected ladies?”
His eyes never left her. “I’m starting to think the most interesting one wasn’t on the original list.” Deena’s breath caught, and her gaze dropped. “And how long will you grace us with your presence?” Austin continued.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On how quickly certain… matters are resolved.”
Her answers were careful and evasive. He felt the tension in her frame now, not just the pleasant warmth of her body but something coiled and almost anxious. She was hiding something.
“What could be so urgent that you had to flee Paris to resolve it here?” he asked curiously, guiding her through another turn.
“It’s not mine to speak of.” Her cheeks flamed.
“Are you all right?”
“I am perfectly fine,” she snapped back.
“Liar,” Austin muttered under his breath.
She shot him a sharp glance. “I’m not a liar. I simply dislike being interrogated on the dance floor.”
“Or perhaps,” he countered, “you are digging for information yourself.”
Austin thought about the threat to his title, and his heart clenched.
What if she has something to do with it?
He argued with himself internally; the idea of not trusting anyone, including his best friend’s sister, never occurred to him.
He let his thumb brush the inside of her wrist before he turned her, and he was surprised to find that her pulse beat as fast as his. “Are you nervous, Dee?”
Her head snapped up. “I told you not to call me that, and you’ve asked me more questions in the last minute.”
“Well, you’ve asked me more scandalous questions, so who should be more suspicious of whom?”
“My questions are simply asked out of professional curiosity.”
“Are you a spy of some sort?”
“N…no, that’s insane of you to think that.” But her eyes darted nervously away from him.
“Then why are you professionally curious about me specifically?”
“I’m curious about dukes in general.” He felt her fingers tighten around his as the music and waltz sped up. “And you are conveniently here.”
He pulled her closer to him and whispered, “Either you have suddenly developed a romantic interest in me, which I would be delighted to explore, or you plan to renege on your promise and publish every scrap of dirt you can find.”
She gave a soft scoff. “Romantic interest? Please.”
“Then it’s the pamphlet.”
Her lips pressed together.
“Tell me, Dee,” he murmured, guiding her backward in a slow, gliding step that brought their bodies scandalously close for a heartbeat. “If I help you locate this mysterious Velvet Duke, will you relax? Enjoy the party? And allow yourself one evening without schemes?”
She met his gaze steadily. “You know perfectly well who the Velvet Duke is.”
Austin feigned surprise. “Who is he? I am at a loss!”
Deena rolled her eyes. “It’s you.”
He felt the corner of his mouth lift. “Oh?”
“Stop pretending.”
He spun her again, the motion pressing her briefly against him and he felt her soft curves, heard her quick breath, and savored the accidental brush of her hip. Heat flared low in his gut.
“Do you know why they call me that?” he asked in a low tone.
“I can only imagine.”
“Can you?” He let his hand slide a fraction lower on her back, just enough to feel the shiver she could not suppress.
“Velvet is soft. Smooth. Deceptively strong. It slides over skin and leaves a woman longing for more.” Her cheeks flushed as she mocked him, but her eyes didn’t waver.
“You’re a fast learner.” He smirked.
The music swelled. Around them, couples whirled in a blur of silk and candlelight, but the world had narrowed to the woman in his arms. Her scent, her warmth, and the forbidden thrill of holding her far closer than he should filled his senses.
Deena opened her mouth to retort when suddenly chaos struck. A debutante stumbled backward into Deena with a shrill cry. The impact sent her stumbling against him; he steadied her instinctively, but not before the sound of ripping fabric cut through the music.
“Oh!” Lady Ann gasped, hand to her mouth. “Lady Deena, I am so sorry! My heel caught on your dress. How clumsy of me!”
Deena glanced down. A long tear gaped along the side seam of her gown, exposing a sliver of stockinged ankle and the edge of a lace-trimmed petticoat.
“It’s quite all right, Lady Ann,” Deena said politely.
“Thank God it’s just a traveling dress. I’m sure it can be replaced easily in Paris when you return,” Lady Ann commented venomously.
Austin felt Deena stiffen, preparing to bolt.
Lady Ann’s wide eyes turned to him, suddenly luminous with calculation. “Your Grace, perhaps you could escort Lady Deena to—oh, but I feel faint myself. Might I impose upon you instead?”
Her hand fluttered towards his arm as if she might swoon.
“Lady Ann, I suggest you find your mama and practice your footing before attending such prestigious events.” Austin left no room for a response.
The girl’s mouth opened, closed, then she scurried away, cheeks scarlet and eyes filling up with tears. Austin held onto Deena’s arm, but she tried to pull free.
“I can manage—”
“No.” He tightened his hold, guiding her gently but firmly towards the edge of the floor. “You are not fleeing into the corridor with half your gown in tatters. Your grandmother will have my head.”
Austin guided Deena through the throng with careful precision, his arm curved protectively around her waist to shield the torn seam from curious eyes. The heat of her body lingered against his side, a torment he tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore.
As soon as they slipped through a side door into the quieter corridor beyond the ballroom, Deena pulled her hand free with a sharp tug.
“I don’t need your help,” she snapped. “I can find Grandmother perfectly well on my own.”
Austin stopped, turning to face her fully. The corridor was empty, and all he could hear was the distant strains of music muffled behind the heavy door. Deena’s green eyes flashed with annoyance, guilt, and defiance.
“You keep saying that,” he murmured, stepping closer until only a foot separated them. “Yet here we are.”
“Here we are,” she echoed, chin lifting. “Because you appointed yourself my guardian. I am not a child anymore, Austin. Nor am I one of your fluttering admirers who requires rescuing.”