Theo smiled. “I knew it would be splendid. Youarethe Countess Wycliffe. It is time thetonknows it, and that is best done with a lavish ball.”
“It is also time for my lord to know I am his countess,” Prue murmured, her gaze going to her imposing and very dashing husband who had recently entered the ballroom.
Since their marriage three years ago, Prue had spent most of her time in the country, except for this season when she had boldly stepped into town, shaking the barrier the earl seemed to place around their marriage and relationship.
“Since his entrance, he has not stopped staring at you,” Theo said with a light laugh. “Thatis most glorious.”
The man’s eyes devoured his wife’s voluptuous form like a hungry wolf, yet he did not approach her or ask for her hand in a dance. Everyone expected the earl and countess to take to the dancefloor once the waltz was announced, and Theo feared the blasted man would disappoint his wife’s expectation and bruise her tender feelings. Their union hadn’t been a love match, and the earl had made little effort to grow close to his countess. Theo faced Prue and gave her a reassuring smile. “Well done.”
The countess’s eyes swept the packed ballroom. “It seems Perdie has left already. She has ignored all my overtures.”
A painful weight settled across Theo’s chest. “I fear I hurt her dreadfully. I have not been able to sleep well since I told her she is no longer welcome at 48 Berkeley Street. I must find a way to fix it. I did explain it was only temporary, but I do not think she believed me.”
Prue snapped her fan open with agile swiftness, the edge covering her mouth. “Upon my word, someoneveryeligible and a bit wicked this way comes.”
The excited alarm in Prue’s voice had Theo whirling around. Her heart lurched to see the Duke of Hartford, looking terribly handsome, cutting a swathe directly toward their location. Theo’s heart beat erratically with curiosity and fascination as he came closer. She had seen him earlier up in the upper balcony but had not dreamed the man would approach her.
“I do believe he is coming to you, Theo,” Prue said, the fan masking the rapid movement of her mouth. “Andeveryoneis staring.”
They most certainly were.
“Do you know the duke, Theo?”
“I…”Botheration. Her cheeks heated, and for a brief moment, she wondered if it might be wise to escape into the gardens. Perhaps it was better they met publicly. “He is the true reason I stopped Perdie from visiting us.”
“Upon my word, you are entirely serious! You kept that from us,” Prue said accusingly. “Why ever would you do so? That was a piece of most pertinent information, Theo.”
She swallowed a rising grown. The club and all its happenings were her responsibility. Theo hadn’t wanted to involve her dear friends with the intimate threat from the duke. They would have worried and tried to interfere. “The duke is Perdie’s brother.”
“I thought her brother an old, uncompromising man,” Prue said, looking a bit troubled.
“She was very wide off the mark with that description though I can very well believe he is uncompromising in his manners. He paid an unexpected visit to 48 Berkeley Square about a week ago and demanded I end her membership. Since he warned me to stay clear of his path, I cannot fathom why he should approach me. Unless it is not me.”
“Pish! It is you. His regard borders on scandalous!”
The duke was indeed too intense, uncaring that he stared at her in such an encompassing manner, uncaring that a few notable lords tried to capture his attention. Being the sole regard of this man’s stare had an uncomfortable and very heated sensation fluttering low in her belly and embarrassingly even lower. Theo had never reacted so to any man, and she felt flustered.
“To my regret, I did what he demanded,” Theo murmured. “I cannot imagine why he should approach me now.”
Prue touched her hand. “You made the right decision.”
“Did I? Lady Perdie is clearly unhappy, and I gave in without fighting for her. I have been so wretched since trying to find a solution. I even thought perhaps I should pay her a call this week. We do not need to be friends only through the club.”
“And will the duke agree?”
“Hang the duke,” she said, vexation surging in her heart.
“The duke is not a man you want to cross.”
No, he was a man she actually dreamed of kissing three nights in a row to her undying shame. Theo could not deceive herself; she was awfully attracted to the duke, enough so she found herself wondering what it would be like to dance within his arms, to perhaps press her mouth against his. The admission horrified her. He was a man uncaring of his sister’s tender sensibilities and the hopes in her heart.
It had been a long time since a man inspired Theo to girlish fantasies of kissing and dancing. It quite irritated her the duke evoked these feelings inside without any indication that he might have felt a similar attraction. What woman would want to kiss that stern, arrogant mouth?
The orchestra of twenty souls leaped to life, and the opening strains of the waltz rode the air. Thrilled ladies and gentlemen moved into the wide-open space reserved for dancing.
“Lady Winfern,” the duke greeted, bending into a quick bow.
He straightened, and his gaze pierced hers. His eyes truly were striking…magnificent, appearing even darker with an emotion she could not discern. A long-suppressed sensation stirred in the pit of Theo’s stomach and an ache of want settled low in her belly. The visceral feeling shocked her, and she dipped in a quick curtsey. “Your Grace, a pleasure to see you again.”