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“I do.” The duke nodded. “I am the finest man of my acquaintance, in my own opinion.”

She laughed despite herself. There really was nothing to say to that. The man’s unearned self-confidence was rather impressive, really.

And it wasn’texactlyunearned.

The music ended, to Emily’s surprise. Generally, dances seemed to last forever, with her counting the seconds until she could make her excuses and escape her partner. This time, she did not want the dance to end.

Almost reluctantly, Emily took her hand off the duke’s shoulder, letting her fingers slip away from him, and stepped back.

He was watching her, his expression dark and unreadable. She felt a pressure building up in her chest, a sort ofyearningthat she could not quite interpret. Around them, couples were talking and laughing, some going their separate ways, others finding excuses to stay together. They milled around Emily and her duke, leaving a wide ring of space around the two of them.

Not my duke,she told herself, faintly horrified.He’s never been mine.

The duke broke the spell first, his eyes flicking away from hers and over her shoulder. They narrowed.

“My cousin approaches,” he remarked, almost off-handedly. “I suspect he is about to ask you to dance, Miss Belmont. Richard is nothing if not polite. I should warn you to be careful of your reply.”

She blinked up at him. “And why is that?”

He gave her that vulpine smile again. “Because I am a rather jealous man, my dear. If I am to court you, you should know this about me. I do not like to share.”

Before Emily could think up a suitable response, Richard St. John was upon them, bowing politely to her and glancing shrewdly at his cousin.

“Miss Belmont, what a pleasure to see you,” he said kindly.

Emily found it hard to believe that he’d written that sharp, threatening letter to her, even under his domineering cousin’s instruction.

“I was wondering if you would like to dance the next set with me. I believe it’s a country dance.”

Emily found herself answering before she had even picked out the words in her head.

“Oh, no thank you, Mr. St. John. My dance card is full already, you see.” She lifted her wrist, and he glanced briefly across it, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course. My apologies,” he responded, never missing a beat. He turned to the duke. “Cousin, might I have a word with you?”

The duke smiled faintly. “Naturally. Do excuse us, Miss Belmont. Might I suggest biscuits in our absence?”

“What… Oh, never mind,” Mr. St. John muttered, turning and walking away. The duke followed, leaving Emily alone.

She had forgotten about the biscuits.

Why on earth did I obey him? I should have made sure to dance with Mr. St. John simply to spite him! Yes, that would show him.

She could imagine it now—herself, spinning around the dance floor with the obliging Mr. St John, while the duke glared from the sidelines. She could almost imagine the heat and anger in his eyes, his gaze dragging over her like a physical touch, following her every move. Perhaps he would come charging to the dance floor, tearing her away from her partner and holding her tight.Mine,he would say, his voice clipped and harsh.

Emily gave her head a little shake, clearing her throat.

I need a glass of water. Cold water.

* * *

Cassian could not quite decide why he was so pleased with Miss Belmont’s response. He had told her not to dance with Richard, and she hadn’t. When she’d lifted her dance card, revealing his name in all of the slots, a warm, crushing wave of something like pride and desire had swept through him, almost stealing his breath away.

Mine. She’s mine. She all but told him that she was mine.

He gave himself a little shake. This courtship was a strange one, and their marriage was going to be nothing more than convenient. He knew that. She knew that. Why complicate matters?

Richard strode off to a quiet corner, then turned to await his cousin, his arms folded tight across his chest.