Page 14

Lily had not thought for a moment that the duke would single her out in this way by asking her to dance. A request which had, she realized, halted all conversation in their immediate vicinity and beyond.
Rightly so when this gentleman, if he did deign to attend a ball during the Season, had never been known to dance at any of them since the evening of the ball in which he had danced with Chloe when she was introduced into Society.
Yet that same aloof gentleman was now asking Lily to dance.
Her bodice suddenly felt too tight for Lily to be able to breathe comfortably. Her legs were trembling so badly, beneath her ankle-length gown, she wasn’t sure how much longer they would be able to support her.
As for answering him… Lily’s mouth had become so dry, she could barely swallow, let alone speak.
“If you will excuse us, ladies.” Taking Lily’s silence as agreement, St. Albans bowed to the group before he took a firm grasp of one of her gloved hands and placed it upon his forearm. “Maybury,” he dismissed in a hard voice before leading Lily back toward the dance floor.
Lily glanced at St. Albans, a heaviness forming in her chest at the coldness she could see in his austerely withdrawn expression. She could also feel how rigid his arm was beneath her gloved hand. The tension in the rest of his body was also discernable in the stiff manner in which he held himself as the people who had the misfortune to be in his way quickly moved aside.
He appeared to Lily as Moses must have when he took his people through the parted Red Sea!
“I really do not care to dance again so soon.” Lily spoke softly enough so that only St. Albans could hear her at the same time as she heard the hiss of the gossip beginning again in whispers behind them.
He turned to look down the length of his aristocratic nose at her. Whatever he read from her expression caused him to veer slightly to the right and toward the French doors leading outside and onto the terrace that ran the length of the garden at the back of Landers House.
“We cannot go outside together either,” Lily hissed.
“I beg to differ.” St. Albans nodded acknowledgment to a footman as he opened one of the doors for them. “After you,” he prompted Lily.
She gave a desperate glance at the other people now gathered together in groups in the ballroom, talking in hushed whispers.
The quartet of musicians was only playing softly.
Her group of friends were all watching in wide-eyed wonder. Except Georgiana, who was, as usual, scowling her displeasure with the world, rather than only Lily.
Without exception, all the ladies and gentlemen present were openly staring at them.
Her mother’s brows were raised so high in shock, they almost touched her hairline.
But it was the avaricious expression Lily so easily read on her father’s face that caused her to purposefully remove her hand from St. Albans’s forearm. “I am afraid I must refuse your generous offer. I have a headache and had already decided totake my leave before you arrived.” She curtseyed her indication of leaving him.
She could not, would not, be a party to any machinations her father might conceive in regard to the unexpected interest St. Albans was showing in her this evening by taking her out onto the terrace.
The whole idea of that happening made Lily feel as if she might burst into tears if she did not immediately escape the gawping speculation of her family and other members of theton.
When she looked up from curtseying, it was to find the duke’s pale blue eyes narrowed intently on what Lily was sure must be the paleness of her cheeks.
That questioning gaze remained on her for several long seconds before St. Albans nodded abruptly. “If you insist upon leaving, then I am equally insistent on being the one to escort you back to Truro House.”
“No!” Lily protested loudly enough that she was immediately aware of the increased speculation of the others in the room. “You cannot take me home,” she muttered fiercely. “We both know it would be scandalous for you to do so.”
St. Albans gave a dismissive snort. “My dear girl, I can, and invariably do, behave exactly as I please.”
“And no doubt you do so without fear of recrimination, but I am a far less important mortal than the Duke of St. Albans,” she stated firmly. “As such, I am forced to follow certain rules set by Society.”
He scowled. “I am sure you must agree that the two of us need to talk.”
Because this man had kissed her.
Because Lily had kissedhim.
“Even if we do, it does not need to happen now,” she insisted.
“Then when?”