Page 78
Story: A Bride for the Duke of Sin
Now, to find my poor, romantic, naive, and idealistic wife.
He grinned to himself as he crossed the ballroom towards her.
Phoebe looked at him in surprise. “Ethan.”
“Duchess.” He smiled at her. “Missed me?”
Before she could utter a contrary word, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “I believe that your dance card has been sadly empty all evening,” he sighed with sham solemnity. “Why don’t we take care of that?”
She smiled up at him, her gold-flecked emerald-green eyes twinkling at him. “Married women do not have dance cards, Your Grace,” she reminded him politely. “And neither should we dance with our husbands.”
“You are a duchess now, sweetheart,” he replied with a rakish grin. “We can do as we please, and the rest of Society can just stuff their opinions—preferably where the sun never shines.”
His adorable wife let out a choked laugh, and he caught Daniel smirking in approval, most likely because the man had just been dancing with his wife and only his wife that evening.
“You can ask the Duke of Ashton himself,” he continued jovially. “After all, he follows the rules better than I.”
“When it suits him, yes,” Evie remarked, wrinkling her nose. She smiled at her friend and urged her, “Go dance with your husband, dearest. I assure you, they will only talk for a while before they move on to Sir Winfrey’s puce pantaloons.”
“So horrid, they will be talking about it for weeks,” Scarlett assured her.
Phoebe’s hesitation began to wane, and she smiled shyly up at Ethan. “I do not suppose a dance will hurt anyone,” she said.
Her voice was soft, but steady, gently wrapping around his heart.
Ethan led her to the dance floor, but at that point, he had no idea who was truly leading whom.
All he knew was that the most beautiful woman in the ballroom was in his arms, and not even twenty voluptuous, highly experienced widows could make him leave her side at that moment.
“Come, sweetheart,” he told her with a wicked smile. “Let us break all the rules one by one, you and I.”
Phoebe laughed. “Are you going to turn me into a Wolf like you, husband?”
He flashed her a grin as the music started. “Not a bad idea at all, Duchess.”
Her answering smile made his heart stutter in his chest. How odd. It had never done that before.
“Then, let us shock them all, husband!”
CHAPTER 23
Lips on hers in a sensual caress. His hands roaming all over her body. Fingers digging into her flesh as if he was loath to let her go…
Phoebe let out a soft moan as she twisted a little between the silken sheets of her bed, her body stretching luxuriously like a cat as a smile traced itself across her lips.
Last night, the tonhad watched, transfixed, as the Duke of Sinclair, the Wolf of Sin, and the bane of many an ambitious mama’s plans, remained by her side for the rest of the evening after their dance.
Phoebe giggled as she rolled onto her back. It was simply the most scandalous thing she had ever done in her life. No doubt that her mama would have a word with her the next time they met.
She swung her legs over the bed and rang for Ella. What time was it already? She always did wake up late after these seemingly endless balls.
Only last night, it did not seem unbearably interminable.
Oh no—in fact, it rather seemed all too short, for all that it ended close to sunrise.
“Quick, Ella, help me get washed,” she called out to the maid. “And for this afternoon’s tea with the Duke, I think that pale blue dress with the ruffled lace at the neckline would do nicely…”
Ella laughed lightly as she brought out the basin and towels for her mistress. “Your Grace is in good spirits—this is wonderful.”
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