Page 17 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“I’m working on convincing the author to quit publishing.”

Both duchesses frowned at this, earning sharp looks from their husbands.

“But they are so refreshing,” Seraphina protested. “Finally, something with actual passion instead of those insipid marriage mart chronicles.”

“I assure you, my love,” Gerard said stiffly, “you don’t need inspiration.”

“Oh, don’t worry, darling.” Seraphina patted his arm. “The stories merely provide some interesting ideas for us to explore.”

Gerard’s eyebrows shot upward toward his hairline.

“Perhaps,” Dorian said slowly, “these publications aren’t without some value.” He caught his wife’s gaze. “For the general improvement of marital relations of course.”

“Of course,” Alice agreed demurely, a pretty pink flush stained her cheeks.

Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I am delighted my private affairs are enhancing your marriages, but this cannot continue.”

He spotted Lady Asquith across the ballroom, now safely ensconced between Lord and Lady Clarkshire. Even at this distance, he could see the proud tilt of her chin and the way she deliberately ignored the increased whispers that followed in the wake of their dance.

“Still brooding, I see,” Dorian said beside him.

Leo shot his friend a quelling look. “I don’t brood.”

“No? Then why are you staring at Lady Asquith as though she’s a vexing chess problem?”

Before Leo could respond, the orchestra struck up another waltz, and he was saved from further interrogation by the arrival of his hosts seeking introductions.

Marina pressed her fan to her burning cheeks, painfully aware of the curious glances cast in her direction.

Her dance with the Duke had caused exactly the type of attention she’d been trying to avoid.

Needing a moment to calm herself, she made her way to the refreshment table where she accepted a glass of lemonade from a footman. The cool drink soothed her throat though it did little to calm her racing pulse or cool the flush that refused to leave her skin.

She took another sip, using the moment to look around the ballroom. Small clusters of ladies with their heads bent together in whispered conversation darted questioning looks in her direction.

Near the doors to the terrace, she spotted Lady Thornley and Miss Ashworth—the very two whose conversation she had overheard at the last ball. They, too, were watching her with undisguised curiosity, no doubt wondering about her unexpected waltz with the Duke of Blackmere.

Setting her empty glass on a passing tray, Marina squared her shoulders and crossed the ballroom to rejoin Caroline and Harold, determined to maintain whatever dignity remained after that dance.

“My goodness,” Caroline said as Marina rejoined them, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. “That was quite a performance.”

“Caroline.” Harold’s voice was warning though his own expression was filled with curiosity.

“I was merely commenting on their excellent execution of the waltz.” Caroline fanned herself dramatically. “Though I must say, your gracefulness was noteworthy this evening, Marina. The Duke seemed most attentive to your steps.”

“The Duke,” Marina retorted, “seems attentive to making my life difficult.”

“He did rescue you from those horrible men,” Caroline said.

“I didn’t need rescuing.” But even as she said it, Marina remembered the way the Duke had appeared like an avenging angel, his voice cutting through the men’s humiliating remarks with deadly precision.

“Of course not.” Harold’s tone was gentle. “Though I must confess, I was relieved he intervened before I was forced to call either of those cads out. My sword arm isn’t what it once was.”

“Harold!” Both women exclaimed in unified horror.

“Joking, my dears. I don’t even know where my sword is.” He patted his wife’s hand. “Though speaking of the Duke, he’s watching our little group with rather marked interest.”

Marina refused to turn and look though she imagined she could feel the weight of Leo’s gaze across the ballroom.