Page 29 of A Duchess in Ten Days (Icy Dukes #2)

Lavinia bit her lower lip. "I think so," she answered. "No...I do. But I do not know what to do about these feelings, Emma. I cannot act on them because Andrew doesn't seem to feel the same."

"Are you certain?" Emma questioned. "You claim that the two of you almost shared a kiss. That has to mean something."

Lavinia shook her head. "He said that we aren't exactly a typical married couple," she explained. "Given the circumstances surrounding our marriage, he only sees this as an arrangement...and I think he wants to keep it that way."

Emma emitted a sigh. "I mean, whether or not this was a marriage of convenience doesn't matter. Sooner or later, you will have to become a real couple."

"I don't know Emma, and honestly, I think I want to stop analyzing this," she replied. "I was hoping the ball could take my mind off everything."

Emma raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Well, perhaps you should dance with a nice gentleman tonight, Lavinia. It's the perfect time to make Andrew jealous, don't you think? The next dance is about to start."

Lavinia scoffed, shaking her head. "Andrew? Jealous? He could never be jealous of me. He isn't the type to care that much."

Emma gave her a knowing look, but Lavinia was too caught up in her own thoughts to notice. She wasn't someone who could command his emotions, not in that way.

Still, she liked the idea of a dance tonight. Perhaps, she could ask David to join her for the next set. Andrew wasn't in sight, and she was certain that he wouldn't oblige her even if she asked.

"Are you...jealous, right now?" Victor asked Andrew, studying his face.

"Maybe I am," Andrew answered. "Maybe not."

Perhaps Lavinia shouldn't have worn that gown.

Andrew couldn't take his eyes off her. He had not taken his eyes off her since they had arrived at the ball. Every glance she received from the men in the room, every flirtatious smile, every bow...it all ignited a restless, unidentifiable feeling within him.

He hated it.

But again, he could not blame the gentlemen for their reaction to his wife.

She looked gorgeous. That gown accentuated every soft curve with an almost maddening perfection.

Her beauty—the way the gown embraced her form, the way the candlelight caught the shimmer of the fabric—seemed to command attention, as if she were the very center of the universe tonight.

"She is a married lady, for heaven's sake," Andrew rasped. "Why do they keep requesting her hand for a dance?" His fingers tightened around the stem of his glass.

Victor chuckled, entirely too amused by Andrew's growing frustration. "Perhaps because her husband is nowhere in sight?" he suggested, tilting his head. "From the moment you arrived, you have left her to fend for herself. There's no harm in a friendly dance."

"She's upset with me, I don't think she wants me by her side," he answered.

"What did you do this time?" Victor questioned and stepped forward. "Did you tell her the truth? The reason you married her?"

"I did. But that isn't why she's upset," he explained. "It's a long story."

"I must say, it is rather amusing watching you simmer like this," Victor mused. "You glare at every man who so much as breathes in her direction, yet you remain rooted to this spot like a statue. If you're so vexed, why not do something about it?"

Andrew exhaled sharply, his gaze never leaving Lavinia as she laughed at something one of the gentlemen had said. His stomach twisted at the sight. "She's enjoying herself," he muttered, more to himself than to Victor.

"Indeed, she is," Victor agreed, watching his friend closely. "And you? You look ready to challenge half the room to a duel. Very unlike you, Andrew. You do realize that, don't you?"

Andrew clenched his jaw. "I might not like it, but I'm not going to spoil her mood by intervening. Lavinia rarely enjoys balls, so it's quite...nice to see her laughing."

Victor arched a brow. "Truly? Because it looks as though she's about to dance."

Andrew turned his head sharply, and his stomach tightened at the sight before him. The gentleman—tall, impeccably dressed, and entirely too pleased with himself—was leading Lavinia toward the dance floor. Her hand rested lightly in his, and she was smiling.

Andrew instantly saw red.

Before he had fully processed his own movements, he was striding across the ballroom.

The closer he got, the more his pulse thundered in his ears.

The gentleman had barely led Lavinia to the center when Andrew reached them.

Without a word, he extended his hand and, with gentle but firm insistence, pulled Lavinia's hand away from the man's grasp.

Lavinia gasped softly, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I think it's only proper that the duchess dances with her husband, Lord Collins, wouldn't you say?"

Lord Collins forced a sharp smile. "I must admit, Your Grace, I did not anticipate such a reaction from a man of your reputation." His tone was polite, but the insinuation beneath it was clear.

Andrew's grip on Lavinia's hand tightened ever so slightly.

His jaw clenched, his posture stiffening as barely contained fury simmered beneath the surface.

He took a measured step forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous register.

"I would advise you to watch your words when addressing me, Lord Collins," he said.

"Of course, Your Grace," Lord Collins said smoothly, mellowing. "Enjoy your dance."

Lavinia, still stunned, turned to Andrew. "What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft hum of the music beginning to play.

Andrew didn't answer immediately. Instead, he guided her onto the dance floor with effortless precision, his grip on her waist firmer than necessary.

"You will dance with no one else tonight," he said. His eyes locked onto hers, unwavering, commanding. "Understand?"

Lavinia nodded, still very obviously flustered. "I couldn't turn him down for a dance. It would seem...rude."

"You're allowed to be rude...occasionally," he said and looked down at her.

Lavinia tilted her head up, her brows furrowing slightly. "Why are you acting like this, Andrew?" she asked, her voice just loud enough for him to hear over the music.

His jaw tightened. "Like what?"

"I believe there may not be a word in the English dictionary to describe this behavior," she retorted.

Andrew did not falter in his steps. "I am simply doing what any husband would do when other men take too much interest in his wife."

Her lips curved, teasing. "How peculiar. For a moment there, you almost acted like a real husband."

"You have every right to be upset with me, Lavinia," Andrew said. "I know that my actions—and sometimes, my inactions—can be...frustrating."

"You know?" she questioned and arched her eyebrows.

Andrew exhaled, his grip on her tightening for the briefest second before he forced himself to loosen it. "I do."

Lavinia studied him, searching his face as they moved across the ballroom floor in perfect, practiced steps. "And yet, you still persist in being this way."

"This way?"

"Distant. Confusing." Her voice was quieter now, as though she hadn't meant to reveal so much.

Andrew exhaled sharply. "It was not my intention to confuse you," he said, his voice measured. "But that doesn't change the fact that we are still married, Lavinia."

"I did not forget that," Lavinia answered and looked away.

Andrew looked away too. "I may not have been your first choice, Lavinia," he said. But as my wife, you cannot be seen openly enjoying the company of other men. It gives the wrong impression."

Lavinia's spine straightened, and something in her eyes darkened. Her lips parted, as though she had something to say, but she quickly pressed them together, her jaw tightening.

Andrew instantly regretted his words. They hung between them, thick and suffocating, like a dense fog that refused to lift.

The moment they’d left his lips, he had known he’d had made a mistake.

He hadn't meant to say it...not like that, not with that edge of... what? Possessiveness? It had crept into his voice before he could temper it, revealing far more than he’d intended.

He had seen the way Lavinia's spine straightened, her lips parting as if to speak before she pressed them together, locking whatever thought had risen. Her jaw tightened, her fingers twitching slightly where they rested against his shoulder. She was upset.

He had not meant to scold her. He wasn't even sure what had driven him to say it in the first place. It was only the truth, wasn't it? She was his wife.

His duchess.

The final notes of the waltz played, drawing their dance to a close. He let go of her hand, the absence of her touch felt colder than he’d expected. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for the dance, Your Grace."

Lavinia said nothing in response and curtsied. Then, she turned, walking away without so much as a backward glance.

Andrew exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair.

Deep down, he knew he should be relieved that this might finally create the distance they needed, that she might now think twice before stepping too close, before looking at him with those searching eyes, before making him question everything he had told himself about this marriage.

But instead, he was starting to believe that the ache in his chest had been jealousy all along.

Andrew straightened and shook his head, trying to ward off the thoughts swirling in his mind. It was then that he felt it...an unmistakable sensation, the prickling awareness of being watched.

As he turned, something—or someone—caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A figure lingering just beyond the edge of the ballroom, half-hidden in the dim glow of the chandeliers. The presence was fleeting, barely there, yet unmistakably focused on him.

But the moment Andrew shifted his gaze, the figure slipped into the shadows, disappearing into a darkened corner of the hall.

His brows furrowed, but he forced himself to let it go. There were enough things troubling him tonight and he had no patience for ghosts lurking in the dark.

With a measured breath, he made his way back to Victor, willing himself not to think about Lavinia.