Page 81 of The Duke's Vice

“Who do you think you are coming in here and demanding a dance with me?”

Graham quirked an eye brow. “I did no such thing. I simply said I was going to ask you to dance, in fact, I don’t think I even asked.” His eyes went to Amos who was still standing there, comfortably watching them. “I asked Duncary, but I didn’t ask you.”

Beatrice scowled. “Exactly. You didn’t ask me, you pulled me out here like some barbarian.”

Graham smiled wickedly. “A barbarian would throw you over his shoulder.” He thought for a moment. “Which I guess we could try later, if you’d like.”

Beatrice stumbled at his suggestion. “How dare you”

Graham shrugged. “What? Just because our arrangement is over doesn’t mean-”

Beatrice shook her head as tears swelled in her eyes. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Graham studied her expression carefully. He was blissfully silent for a few moments while Beatrice’s mind wavered between finishing this dance with dignity or just running from the dancefloor. No. That wouldn’t do. It would cause a scene and put her relationship with the Duke back into question with the gossipmongers.

“You’re thinking.” Graham stated plainly.

Beatrice scowled. She forgot how well he could read her.

“Why did you want to dance with me? You’ve already made it perfectly clear what you think of me. I am of no consequence to you.”

Graham’s eye brows rose. “Ah. See that’s where you are wrong. You are of great consequence, little mouse. Which was why I reacted the way I did. But I was right, you are not for me.”

Beatrice had heard those words from him before, yet they hurt just as much as the first time. She opened her mouth to question why insisted on dancing with her when his words stopped her short.

“But you are not for Duncary either.”

Beatrice’s eyes flew to Graham’s, whose have hardened since the beginning of their dance.

“What do you mean?” Did Graham know about Amos’s proclivities? She didn’t know if she was going to take his offer, but she didn’t want to see harm come to him either way.

“You are too strong to be tied down. You are too beautiful to sit on someone’s shelf. You will not be happy with him.”

Beatrice lifted her chin. “That is none of your concern.” She sniffed.

Graham’s jaw ticked. “My concern or not I know you, mouse. I know you don’t want this, him.” His head motioned to where Amos was standing, now talking with friends.

Beatrice’s body warmed when he used his pet name for her. She tried cooling her body by recalling the utter humiliation and embarrassment this man had caused her. However, every time her mind replayed her sleepless nights full of tears, her body remembered how his touch felt, how passionate his kisses were.

This time the war between her heart and mind didn’t have a clear victor.

Graham lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “You once agreed to do everything I asked of you. I’m asking you not to do this.” His voice was low, his warm breath sent tingles down her spine.

Her body and heart yearned to lean into him, while her mind finally pushed through with their very last conversation.

“I don’t understand. Do you not like that?”

“No. I enjoy it very much. But…”

“Not from me.”

Beatrice cowered within his hold. She felt the floor give out from underneath her as her mind replayed that scene over and over again. It was something she wished she could edit from the story of he life, but she feared she was doomed to relive it over and over again

“You gave up that privilege the night you dismissed me from your home.” She swallowed back the tears as she stepped back from him.

“Thank you for the dance, Your Grace.” She dipped her head and walked back towards Amos.

Amos watched as Beatrice walked away from him and directly to Duncary. His body leaned, ready to stalk over to them and demand they not go any further with this charade.