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Why the bloody hell had he touched her tonight?

As soon as he caught sight of a flash of dark gold hair floating through the room, his mother in tow, he remembered why.

He had wanted to wipe the feel of the marquess's hands from her body, replace them with his until she couldn't remember anything about the man.

Had he succeeded? He didn't know.

It didn't matter anyway, he had acted like a right bastard and he had to apologize. But maybe not now, not when her taste was still so fresh in his tongue.

Never in his life had he lost control like that. For god sake he had almost taken her against that table like an animal, or like a light skirt, and not a lady that he planned to make his duchess.

No, he had to apologize this instant.

He searched the room for her frantically.

"If you are searching for your duchess, she's gone," Georgie appeared at his side, giving him a curious look.

"How do you know that?"

"I was just at the balcony and I saw her leave the house, her cousin was waiting for her with the carriage. Perhaps she had a headache."

Shame filled him. Because of him, she had had to escape like a disgraced woman, when earlier she had floated in like a beguiling vision in red, catching his eye and the interest of the rest of the room.

She should have been dancing her feet off right now, but instead...

"Have you seen Patrick?" he asked her.

The girl spluttered, "Why would you ask me? I am not his keeper. How am I to know where he is?"

If he hadn't been so distracted by the entire thing that had happened with Lavinia, he would have noted the guilty look in his sister's eyes and the way she was now trying to avoid his gaze.

"Where is Mother? I must take my leave."

"Is the ball no more fun with your lady love gone?"

He ignored her, "when you see Patrick, tell him to come around if he can."

Victor planned to drink himself to mindlessness, but it was pathetic even for him to drink alone. Maybe if he was drunk enough, he would have the guts to tell his friend about how irresponsible he had been.

Or maybe not.

The Viscount didn't know about the arrangement with Lavinia, neither did he know about the Duke's resolve to never fall in love and how he was now scrambling desperately to keep that resolve.

He hardly recognized himself these days and a small part of him wished Lavinia would do him the small mercy of ending the arrangement. That way, he would be free of all this.

Dragging a hand down his face, he wondered why he had been so averse to marrying one of his mother's selections. Lady Hannah might have been terribly dull, but at least she would never havemade him so green with jealousy to the point of almost taking her innocence at a ball. It would have been easy for him to keep his hands off her. He would never have felt this ache.

"You are behaving rather strangely," Georgie peered at him, "are you alright?"

No, he thought. He wasn't and he didn't think he had been for the longest time, but he was finally brave enough to admit it to himself.

"If you'll excuse me." He walked away before she could get another word in.

He pushed past the throng of people in the room, gaze determinedly ahead of him. Everyone who watched him walk past saw the look in his eyes and decided that he wasn't to be approached, which was his intention. The Duke just wanted to get home, get a head start on clearing his mind of everything Lavinia related and have join him later.

"Georgie said you were in a bad mood, but I didn't believe her," his friend's voice said from behind him as he made to step into his gleaming black coach.

"Get in," Victor bit out and disappeared into the dark interior of the vehicle.