Page 14 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“True enough.” Bartley’s charming smile twisted into something cruel. “Though I must admit, drowning seems a rather dramatic way to escape a marriage. Most men simply keep a mistress.”

Marina’s chest tightened, but she kept her spine straight.

“You forget yourself, My Lord,” Harold stepped forward.

“Harold,” Caroline warned, catching her husband’s arm.

“I believe you owe the lady an apology.” Harold’s voice was icy.

“Oh, come now, Lord Clarkshire,” Lord Bartley’s friend jeered. “Everyone knows she as good as murdered poor Henry. Drove him to drink with her frigid?—”

“I suggest,” a deep voice cut into the conversation, “you consider your next words carefully.”

The Duke of Blackmere materialized from the shadows. His powerful frame radiated with barely contained menace.

Lord Bartley paled. “Your Grace, we were merely?—”

“Merely showing why your fathers should have invested more heavily in your education and less in your tailoring.” Leo’s voice could have frozen champagne. “I believe you were about to apologize to Lady Asquith.”

The stammered apologies that followed would have amused her if Marina’s heart weren’t racing so wildly. The two lords practically tripped over themselves in their haste to leave.

“Your Grace,” Marina began, but the opening notes of a waltz interrupted her.

The Duke held out his hand. “My Lady, may I have this dance?”

It wasn’t really a question. With half the ballroom watching, Marina had no choice but to accept. She caught Caroline’s warning look as he led her onto the floor.

“I don’t need you to defend my honor,” she muttered as they took their positions.

“Clearly not. You were handling their insults so effectively on your own.” His hand at her waist was warm through her silk gown as they began to move.

“Better than drawing attention. Which is precisely what you are doing now.” She fought to keep her voice steady as they turned. “People will talk.”

“People already talk.” His thumb traced a small circle against her back. “Though I wonder what they would say if they knew about your literary endeavors.”

“They would say nothing because they will never know.” She met his eyes with a challenge. “Unless you wish to confirm their suspicions about your exploits.”

“Careful, darling.” His grip tightened fractionally. “You are lighting a fire that might burn you.”

“Am I? I rather thought I was writing fiction. Though your reaction suggests perhaps my imagination isn’t as creative as I believed.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You have no idea what you are playing at.”

“Don’t I?” Marina retorted. “Because all you claim is that I know far too much about you, Your Grace.”

“Oh, no, My Lady,” he chuckled darkly, “you only know half of what I could do to you. Only half of the pleasure I could give you.”

The heat in his eyes made her catch her breath. For a moment, the rest of the ballroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the intensity of his gaze and the electric awareness where his hand rested on her back.

Then the music ended. His hand lingered at her waist a beat too long before he stepped back and offered her a perfectly correct bow.

“A pleasure, as always, Lady Asquith.”

Marina forced herself to curtsy, glad that no one could see her trembling knees beneath her gown. “Your Grace.”

She made her way back to Caroline, aware of the stares and whispers that followed her across the ballroom.

For once, she barely registered their spite. Her skin still tingled where his hands had touched her, and her mind raced with ideas for her next story.