Page 32 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

T wo weeks had passed since she had seen Gerard. His face refused to fade in the mists of time, and Dorothy found her eyes sweeping over every garden, park, and ballroom in search of him. She had not yet found him and had wandered through the days as if in a dream.

And then?—

When she entered the ballroom, all the air left her lungs. Her heart beat so violently against her rib cage that she thought she might be ill. Dorothy raised an instinctive hand to her chest, trying to calm her nerves. It was him.

Gerard.

She shivered and rubbed her arms, as if she could force warmth into them.

“Is something the matter?” asked Elias, who halted beside her.

“No,” she said. “Nothing.”

Gerard had not yet seen her, for his attention was occupied by his friend, the Duke of St. Claire. Her eyes traced along his profile—his strong jaw, his high cheekbones, his sharp eyes—and to his thick, dark hair. It took all her power not to whimper at the sight of him.

The urge to flee swept over her, but Dorothy’s body refused to do even as much as turn away. She remained fixed in place, as if she had turned to stone.

He looked well. Was she to be relieved or dismayed that this man, her former lover, looked as though he was content with his life?

Gerard did not seem to carry the same weariness as she did.

Nor did he seem to be searching the crowd with reckless, feverish longing as she had. Dorothy bit the inside of her cheek.

Gerard had rejected her. She did not want him. It was pointless.

Elias sighed. “Very well.”

Dorothy’s eyes remained fixed on Gerard’s face, drinking him in as though she had not seen him in years.

He turned his head, and the easy smile on his face fell instantly.

His eyes widened, and although she was too far away to hear him, she saw his chest rise and fall in a gasp. Did he long for her?

Of course, he did not! How could he—the man who had rejected her? Dorothy tried to force a smile. She had some vague thought that she might convince him that she did not continue to think of him, but her mouth refused to move into even the smallest smile.

At last, Dorothy managed to avert her gaze. By chance, her eyes locked with those of Lady Everleigh, a stately widow. “Are you enjoying the evening?” The words stuck in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

Maybe she could distract herself with the conversation. If not, she might at least be able to convince Gerard that she was no longer thinking of him. She could have conversations and interests that were not about him .

Her chest ached, and her face grew hot. Even when she had resolved to ignore him, she wanted to look at him to see if he still watched her.

“The ball is adequate,” Lady Everleigh said, fanning herself.

It was a perfectly acceptable answer, but it left Dorothy with little to respond to. She searched for something mildly intelligent to say, but all her thoughts turned to Gerard. Was he watching her?

“The company is better,” Lady Everleigh added, casting Dorothy a shrewd look.

She did not know what that meant. It was doubtful that Lady Everleigh, with whom Dorothy had only exchanged a handful of conversations, found Dorothy to be particularly stimulating company.

“I agree,” Dorothy said.

She had no reason to disagree , except for Gerard’s presence, and she was not about to indicate to Lady Everleigh that there was anything amiss. But Lady Everleigh’s eyes flitted to just behind Dorothy, whose heart raced. Gerard was in that direction. Was it he whom Lady Everleigh gazed at?

Dorothy dared to look and found that Gerard’s face was turned to her. He looked away in an instant in a clear attempt to feign that he had not been watching her.

“The Duke of Greenway is watching us,” Lady Everleigh said, sounding as though she was choosing her words with exceptional care. “Are you acquainted with him?”

“Passingly,” Dorothy said. “Are you?”

“Indeed. His Grace and I are good friends.”

How good, exactly ? Dorothy’s face warmed at the insidious, provocative thought. Was she standing beside one of Gerard’s old lovers?

“He is a complicated man,” Lady Everleigh added, with that same sense that she was weighing every word quite carefully before speaking. “Frustrating, like most men. But uniquely frustrating.”

Dorothy let out a small, startled laugh. Lady Everleigh was correct, but the statement had been so direct and blunt that it caught her by surprise.

“If you know him…” Lady Everleigh trailed off. Her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to assess Dorothy quite closely. “I imagine you also find him uniquely frustrating. If you do not, you soon will.”

“I did find him frustrating,” Dorothy said, “but I do not imagine that we will speak often. I cannot find him to be vexing if I do not interact with him.”

“That is untrue,” Lady Everleigh said.

“How so?”

“Vexing people have a way of lingering in the mind,” Lady Everleigh explained. “Even if you do not speak to him, you will find yourself ruminating over his presence. Sometimes, you will be caught unaware by it. You will not think of him for days or weeks…until suddenly, you do.

Dorothy’s heart was in her throat, for Lady Everleigh had described her situation in part. “If you…if you did ruminate, would you ever…” Dorothy trailed off.

Lady Everleigh fanned herself. The woman’s face softened with something like sympathy, and Dorothy had the sinking feeling that her suspicions were correct. Lady Everleigh knew Gerard very intimately, indeed.

The revelation affected her more than it likely should have, for Dorothy had known that Gerard had lovers. Many of them, in fact. Why should it be a surprise to encounter one?

“Are you trying to ask if it ever becomes easier?” Lady Everleigh asked gently. “One may heal from heartache. That much is quite true. It takes time, though. Is there something dreadful from which you are recovering?”

Dorothy swallowed and shook her head. “No, I just assumed that we were speaking philosophically.”

“I see. I do not know if I can share any particular philosophy on love,” Lady Everleigh said. “Sometimes, I am quite certain that such a thing does not even exist.”

“If love does not exist, it would not hurt to be rejected by another,” Dorothy said.

“Ah, I suppose that is a point to consider,” Lady Everleigh replied. “But with men like Hs Grace…perhaps, the rejection comes from knowing that one is never enough. The duke, for all his good qualities, has an insatiable appetite.”

That was certainly true. Dorothy’s mind readily supplied her with all the images and sensations of their late-night encounters. She clasped her wrists before her as the phantom bite of the ropes encircled them.

“It is difficult to have any…affection—” Lady Everleigh made a strange face, as though she was uncertain that she had chosen the correct word “—for such a man. He will inevitably decide that you are no longer what he desires.”

Dorothy’s chest tightened. A new pressure formed behind her eyes. It felt suspiciously like forming tears, but she refused to cry before Lady Everleigh.

“But there must be one woman who would satisfy him,” Dorothy said. “I find it difficult to believe that there is any living man for whom there is no suitable love match.”

Lady Everleigh raised an eyebrow. “Love? Most people do not find love. Did you not resign yourself to spinsterdom? I am surprised to hear you argue that His Grace must have a love match, given that you have not found your own.”

“He is…” Dorothy trailed off, a strange dread creeping up her spine and across her shoulders.

A rational part of her knew that there was no real defense for her to offer.

Everything Lady Everleigh was saying about love and rakes made complete sense, yet the urge to fight rose within her—as hot and fierce as flame.

She could not, or would not, believe that everything Gerard had done or said, every glance and touch, was that of a man who did not deserve love.

Of a man who could not have love.

“You are a fool if you have let yourself love him,” Lady Everleigh said softly.

“I never said that.”

Lady Everleigh’s gaze never faltered, though. Her expression was too knowing. It hardly mattered if Dorothy claimed that she was not in love with Gerard, for Lady Everleigh had already arrived at that conclusion, and the steel in her eyes made it apparent that she would not be easily dissuaded.

A couple of ladies took a turn past them, but they were engrossed in their own conversation. They seemed to pay Dorothy and Lady Everleigh no mind. And why would they? An elderly widow and a spinster were of interest to no one.

“If you love him, it would be best to put an end to it,” Lady Everleigh said. “The longer you let yourself love him, the more difficult it will be to free yourself of him.”

“Why do you say it all like that?” Dorothy asked, a sense of despair sweeping over her.

Lady Everleigh sighed. “It is folly to love a man like that. If you are going to be involved with a rake, you must be certain that you do not relinquish your heart to such a man. It will never end well.”

It had already ended and—not well—just as she said.

Dorothy knew that she ought to accept defeat, but there was another part of her, the smallest spark of hope, that refused to be smothered. Could she rekindle his love for her? Even thinking that she might somehow win his affections again sent a surge of anxiety and dismay coursing through her.

“I know that you are right,” Dorothy conceded softly. “But I wish that you were not.”

“So do all women who find themselves in your position,” Lady Everleigh said, her voice softening with sympathy. “But if you are to be a spinster who engages with men like His Grace, you must learn this lesson and learn it well.”

Learning the lesson was not difficult. Abiding by it was another matter entirely.

“Thank you for your advice,” Dorothy murmured.

Dorothy was not entirely certain that she wanted to be grateful for such advice, but it had been kind, if too brazen, for a woman to speak to another.

“Of course,” Lady Everleigh said. “But you will do what you will, regardless of what I say. People are eager to listen to advice but seldom wish to accept it.”

Lady Everleigh walked away, and with nothing else to serve as a distraction, Dorothy’s eyes drifted to Gerard once more.

He still stood nearby, surrounded by his companions, but his eyes were fixed upon her.

Her breath caught in his throat. Was it her imagination that he looked as though he had not followed his friends’ conversation for some time?

Dorothy forced down the lump that rose in her throat. She took a step forward. So did he.

Were they going to speak? Her heart thundered against her ribs, its beats so mighty that she heard their echo reverberating through her skull.

Dorothy’s mind raced desperately for the best words to say; words which would make her appear unaffected by him.

She would prove that she no longer held the infuriating man inside her heart, and yet no words came.

Gerard’s lips parted, and all air left Dorothy’s chest. He was going to speak to her. She shivered, uncertain how she could possibly survive speaking to him. Dorothy felt as though she was going to fall apart and as though she was putting herself together both at the same time.

“Dorothy!” Elias’s urgent voice shattered the moment.

Dorothy’s head snapped to him. Her brother’s eyes were wide and his jaw tight.

“What is the matter?” Dorothy asked.

“Bridget,” he said, his voice tight. “She has been caught in a scandal. We must find her at once.”