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“Why ever not?” She pointed across the room. “Ariana is right there. I shall be fine. Go and dance with your husband.”

With a reluctant sigh, Georgiana took Robert’s arm and let him lead her to the dance floor.

She could barely look at him, but he was staring quite intently at her.

She was not used to this caliber of attention from a man; it made her feel off-kilter and awkward.

She placed her hand on his shoulder as he clasped her other hand and led her around the room in a graceful waltz. His eyes did not leave her, and she hardly knew where to look.

“It is rude to stare, you know,” she whispered softly.

“Oh, is it?” he said with a smirk.

“It is,” she insisted.

“Is it truly rude when one stares at his wife?”

“Why are you acting as if you have never seen me before in your life?”

“You are dazzling tonight. I am merely being appreciative.”

Her face grew hotter. “You are too kind.”

“Am I? I would not say so. I am merely honest.”

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “It is Daisy who insisted we must be very well shod for this soiree. She said it was the most important ball of the Season.”

“Is it? I would not know.”

“As…unenthused as you are to be here…it seems plenty of the ladies are glad to see you.”

“That is hardly of interest to me. I am taken now,” he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, his hot breath tickling the naked skin of her neck and shoulders.

“Perhaps we should make it clear,” he whispered, making her shiver.

“How?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

He turned his head, his nose brushing her cheek. “Arch your back. Allow your mouth to brush against my neck. Your rouge should leave a mark on me.”

She whimpered nervously, feeling her mind go blank with confusion. She almost stumbled, her feet tangling together as she momentarily forgot her steps, but his strong arm around her waist saved her from taking a spill.

“You like it, do you not? When I whisper in your ear? When I tell you things too risqué for polite company?”

She breathed shakily, unable to articulate anything, her fingers digging into his coat to hold her up because her knees had gone weak.

“You cannot…” she said at last.

His hand trailed downward, just barely brushing her bottom before he returned it to her waist.

“I cannot…what?” he asked.

She shivered, eyes closed.

“You…you…”

She lost track of her train of thought, wondering if the whole room could see how…aroused she was. She oscillated between mortification and desire, cursing the moment she agreed to come to the godforsaken ball.

“Yes?” he teased with a self-satisfied smirk.