Page 24

The truth was, she had not often danced the waltz.

Out of her three sisters, Emily was the one asked last to dance. Anna was the most beautiful, Daphne was the most vibrant and spirited, and Emily was… well, she was not entirely sure whatshewas. It still baffled her that the duke had chosen to marry her when Daphne was available.

Stop it.Concentrate on not making a fool of yourself.

Countless eyes bored into them both as they took up their places on the dance floor. Of course, all of London was still talking about the farce of a wedding ceremony that had led to Daphne fleeing and subsequently marrying the Duke of Thornbridge. Whispers had followed Emily wherever she went since then.

She was obliged to face the duke, her face tilted up to look him in the eye. He carefully maneuvered her hands into the correct position—one hand in his, his hand on her waist, her free hand resting on his shoulder.

Hisbareshoulder.

Emily clenched her jaw, trying to look for all the world as if she touched a man’s bare skin every single day.

Had he deliberately organized it to be this way? No, that was silly. How was he to know that simply touching hisshoulderwould make her shiver inside in this way?

“Ready?” the duke drawled, meeting her eyes squarely.

She smiled faintly in response. “Ready.”

The music began immediately, as if it had been waiting for them.

Emily’s feet were hesitant to move—she’d never had the talent of rhythm the way her sisters did—but the duke carefully pulled her along with him. A waltz, after all, was one of the easiest dances. All she had to do was hold onto her partner and follow his lead.

And, of course, ignore her thumping heart, which was currently echoing in her eyes.

Calm down, you fool. It’s just a dance. And you don’t have to decide whether you wish to marry him or not. You have five more days to decide.

Well, it will be four days, tomorrow.

She swallowed down her panic at the approaching deadline and focused firmly on the hollow between the duke’s collarbones, which was directly before her eyes.

“You are doing very well, Miss Belmont,” the duke said, after a moment’s silence.

She glanced sharply up at him. “I am not sure I appreciate the condescension,” she responded shortly.

His grin widened, and before she could react in any way, he pulled her closer.

A waltz, of course, was danced in rathercloseproximity, but this… this was entirely too much. When she breathed deeply, her bosom brushed against his torso, sending tingles through her entire body. His arm was tight and warm around her waist, and the heat radiating from him seemed to seep easily through the thin material of her dress. And it was all so effortless! The man must be stronger than she had ever imagined.

Can he feel my heart beating, I wonder?

Heat coiled in her gut, pulsing in time to her pounding heart. She could feel his fingers, long and cool, curved over the slope of her hip. Was it her imagination, or did hesqueezejust a tiny bit?

He chuckled. “Sofeisty, my dear.”

“My apologies. If I were a soggy biscuit of a woman, would you be less interested in me?”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Asoggy biscuit? Heavens, wheredoyou get these ideas?”

She tossed back her hair. “I am an artist, and therefore possessed of a vivid imagination.”

“So I see. And the answer is no, I likely would not be interested in you. But you are not asoggy biscuit, so this line of reasoning is rather a waste of time. Pray tell, whybiscuits? They are not known for their structural integrity at the best of times.”

Emily sighed. “I’m a little peckish, actually. I was thinking about biscuits before you came and accosted me. I would have liked to go for refreshments when Mr. Evans asked me to, but I did not want to go for refreshments withhim.”

“A sensible choice,” he agreed. “Well, we shall fetch you some biscuits at the end of his dance. I should warn you—now that you’ve been seen dancing withme, you may be asked to dance by other gentlemen.”

She squinted at him. “My, youdohave a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”