When she peered around the pillar to scan the spot where he’d been only moments ago, he stopped a respectable distance behind her and exclaimed, “Why, Miss Forster.”
She turned slowly to face him, a crushing look of horror on her face.
“How delightful to see you in such an appropriate setting,” he continued on, “as opposed to oh, say, the entry hall of my home at seven o’clock in the morning?”
She took a step towards him. “Shhhh! Lower your voice.”
As she looked up into his face his breath seemed to stutter, stopping and then restarting awkwardly. She was too near. Much too near.
Appearing to read his mind, she hastily stepped back. Her features firmed into a semblance of control. “Your Grace, I sincerely apologize for disrupting you and your household that morning. I truly hope I didn’t disturb anyone else in your family.”
Her words might have been simply that, polite words that meant nothing, but the way her eyes warmed to a heartfelt blue convinced him she was in earnest. He nodded his acceptance of the apology. Still, his curiosity persisted.
He took a step forward, once again eliminating the space between them and lowered his voice as she had requested. “Would you care to explain how your mangy feline came to be sleeping on my chest?”
Miss Forster stood mute before him for far too long, gazing intently at the aforementioned part of his body. Slowly she raised her face to look up at him. Her cheeks were suffused with color and her eyes had darkened slightly with what appeared to be a hint of desire.
Desire? An answering shot of lust flooded his bloodstream.
Taviston took a step backward without breaking eye contact. No, no, no. He did not want this woman. How absurd. Before this week he hadn’t even known she existed.
“Dear little cousin, there you are! I have been searching the ballroom for you.”
Miss Forster jumped back a good eight inches as a sharp-nosed blonde drew near and linked arms with her. The woman’s voice and physical touch seemed to jolt the young lady back to the moment.
“Oh! Louisa, how nice to see you. May I introduce—?”
“Darling cousin, Taviston and I are already acquainted. How are you this evening, Your Grace?” She gave a curtsy and raised her hand.
Taviston reluctantly took her hand and bowed over it. “Mrs. Browne. I am well this evening, thank you. I trust you have been enjoying yourself?”
He released her hand as quickly as possible and turned his gaze upon Miss Forster. She was related to this creature? Now there was an interesting piece of information. He tried to catch her eye, but she had acquired a sudden fascination with the tiled floor.
At the next words out of Mrs. Browne’s mouth, he understood her discomfort.
“Dear, dear Victoria. I had no idea you were acquainted with Taviston. I certainly didn’t introduce you. It makes me curious to know who, exactly, did.” Mrs. Browne turned a pointed look upon her shorter cousin.
Taviston’s insides twitched uneasily. Young ladies such as Miss Forster didn’t introduce themselves to gentlemen, especially not peers such as him. He saw her shoulders visibly slump. Hesitating but a moment, while he searched his brain for an appropriate personage, he finally settled on the only one that made sense.
“My mother introduced us, Mrs. Browne. Just this evening.”
Louisa Browne’s eyebrows rose in suspicion and disbelief, but she didn’t call his bluff. Instead, she grabbed Miss Forster’s arm and said, “Come, dear cousin. Mr. Browne has been asking after you all evening. You know how he enjoys taking you for a spin around the dance floor.”
Surprised by their sudden departure, Taviston could only watch them walk away. Miss Forster glanced back once and gave him a shy smile. His blood instantly heated.
Hell’s teeth. He did not want that woman.
Chapter Seven
After giving Taviston a small, grateful smile over her shoulder, Victoria turned back around and disengaged herself from her cousin. She wanted to laugh in Louisa’s face. Barrett Browne was perfectly happy to pretend his ward didn’t even exist. Victoria had never danced with him before and she doubted she would tonight, if ever.
Louisa, normally the very antithesis of a proper chaperone, now seemed loath to let Victoria leave her side. For the next thirty minutes Louisa hauled her around the crowded room, introducing her to people she didn’t care to meet, people equally unimpressed with Victoria’s acquaintance. Finally, Victoria had had enough and she informed Louisa she needed to visit the ladies’ retiring room.
Once inside, she collapsed into a chair in the corner. This had been a thoroughly exhausting, not to mention disastrous few days. At this time last week, she hadn’t even known there was a Duke of Taviston. Now she couldn’t seem to escape him. While she realized some of the horrendous activities of the last forty-eight hours were most certainly her fault, she laid most of the blame on His Grace’s doorstep. She had been minding her own business, walking her cat, when he approached her. She had been right in thinking he followed her all evening. She needed to focus on her husband hunt. She had no time for naked dukes.
But then his interaction with Lady Julianna had distracted her. Had he been struck by sudden blindness? For he gave the girl only a lackluster greeting, without even attempting to smile. It couldn’t possibly be normal for a man to look upon such beauty and not react. She’d watched with fascination as Lady Julianna drenched the duke with charm, only to receive an indifferent comment here and there. Then again, he’d been searching the room for her, Victoria, and had somehow outflanked her. Hoping to appease him so she could resume her dukeless life, she had apologized.
And then promptly ogled his chest like a loose woman. But what else was she to think of when his words had conjured the image of Arthur curled intimately on his bare torso? The bare, sculpted-in-muscle, black-haired chest she had gaped at and then drawn oh-so-accurately? Lucky cat.