His dark hair glimmered with a faint hint of blue as he allowed the guests to take him in.
His legs—my God—there was nothing adequate she could even say about them. She shouldn’t even acknowledge that they existed, but how could one not look at such powerful limbs enclosed by snug breeches?
Everything about him was powerful.
And everyone seemed in danger of swooning in his presence. It was a miracle they all remained standing.
Even the gentlemen were rapt by his spell.
She wondered if they envied him. She could see why; he certainly was the envy of everyone that she could deduce. And she couldn’t quite tear her own gaze away from him, either.
It was most annoying.
No one should be that transfixing.
And his attitude?
It was not lofty. It was not superior. It was the very fact that he seemed so, well…pleasingthat made it so very impossible.
Surely, he should have been superior and cold and arrogant. Hewasarrogant. There was no denying it, but there was a certain sort of affability about him which suggested that one could go right up to him, shake his hand, and ask him to have a drink. Even if they had not been introduced.
And that he would say yes and make that person feel special, as if they were the only person in the room.
In fact, she felt certain that every single lord and lady felt special in his presence.
How the blazes did one do that?
Everyone held their breath.
’Twas as if the entire room was waiting on his every word, his every movement. And his approval.
And then, abruptly, he gave the slightest of nods and swept into the room with such dignity and strength that everyone drew in a collective breath.
It was as if he had suddenly given life to the evening, and everyone was filled with delight.
Immediately, partners turned to each other, resuming their dance. Conversations began again, but only this time with more volume and more verve. No doubt every single one of them was talking about the arrival of the marvelous Duke of Stone.
She found herself wishing to give him a good talking to about the fact that he could be so captivating.
Or perhaps she’d ask for lessons.
Now that was a thought.
Just as she was about to give it more room for consideration, her sister Louise danced by with her affianced vicar to the sweet, lilting tunes of a waltz.
The two were ridiculously happy in each other’s arms as they rotated in circles along the polished floor.
They were not in love.
Or at least so Louise had claimed.
And yet Louise had been quite firm about the fact that he was the man for her, and he had been quite firm about the fact that she was the lady for him.
They were a perfect match, with interests aligned.
It was almost astonishing, for one would assume that if one was going to marry a vicar, one should be in love. Apparently not. They were simply absolutely compatible as if they were the perfect friends.
It seemed to be a mark of the duke’s matches. The couples held each other in high esteem and were a perfect fit. But love did not seem to ever be mentioned.