Page 18 of A Gamble on the Duke (The Gambling Dukes #4)

“And when his valet married last year, Kineallen gave the couple five hundred pounds, and a lodge on his country estate,” Catherine continued, with a knowing smile that was far too enticing. “There was a butcher who had lost his hand in an accident, and Kineallen?—”

“But these are trifles,” the Earl of Tuxford said, bewildered. “These are just ordinary people!”

I winced. I may have only known Catherine a week, but I knew her well enough to predict her response to such a statement.

And I was right. Catherine drew herself and said, in a kind but definitive tone, “We are all ordinary people really. Who can help but admire a man who takes such an interest in those around him? ”

And she looked at me.

I could have melted. No, not melted. That word could not fully describe the burning heat that was roaring through me as I saw Catherine’s approval radiate through me.

She…she admired me.

Perhaps it should not have been a surprise. She had hardly made her approval a secret, when we had spoken long into the night…spoken, and then shared something that did not require words.

But to see her so boldly and blatantly admire me in public…it made my throat hoarse and my fists clench. It made me want to cry out, to shout at the top of a tower or a tree, to declare to the world that I was enough.

I was enough.

The moment passed but the warmth remained as Catherine turned back to the Earl of Tuxford with a defiant smile. “I can think of almost no one else that I admire more. Excuse me, gentlemen. I must see to my other guests.”

In a rustle of silk and an elegance that truly was quite unfair, Catherine rose and stepped lightly away towards a gaggle of guests.

I blew out a long, slow breath. It was only when it had ended that I realized the Earl of Tuxford had just done pretty much the same thing.

“Damn, Kineallen,” said my guest quietly. “That is a woman you should be guarding with her life.”

“Her…erm, relatives are in Bath,” I said lightly, remembering the clever lie she had told my friends about a great aunt who was a dowager countess. “She is under my roof. My protection.”

“I just bet she is,” murmured the Earl of Tuxford, before adding, “now, then, do not take offence. I meant nothing by it but the highest praise. She is a treasure.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice level as my head turned toward her like a sunflower. “Yes, she is.”

She was. Catherine laughed, tilting her head back in unadulterated joy as she giggled at a jest that Markham had made. She was arms in arms with Markham’s wife, Briar, and the two of them were giggling so merrily, it seemed to lift the mood of the whole party.

How did she do it? Meander through life finding nothing but joy?

In a world in which I had always found so much pain, so much hardship…she was a beacon. A lighthouse.

With every day that passed, Miss Catherine Shenton was feeling less and less like a gamble I had taken, and more of a certainty.

“You are different.”

I turned back to the Earl of Tuxford. “Different?”

The older man nodded slowly. “You probably do not recall, but you and I met in London last year, at one of the end of Season balls. You danced with my wife.”

I did?

I suppose I did. That had been a strange time for me, for all of us. The Gambling Dukes had started making money and the fear that it would disappear, that we would be forced to return to our penniless lives, had quite taken hold of me.

Far too much—I had moved through the end of last year’s Season in a dream.

“My apologies, my lord, I do not recall?—”

“I am not surprised. You were distracted then. Never present,” said the Earl of Tuxford, his features turning into a smile.

“I will admit, I almost did not bother considering your invitation to join this club of yours when I received it a month ago. I had no interest in aligning myself with a man who took so little joy in the world.”

Joy.

It had been an emotion I had believed myself no longer able to feel. Last year, joy had not been a present companion. Not even a close one. I could barely recall her face.

When had that changed? It could not have only been Catherine…could it?

“And yet now look at you.” The Earl of Tuxford beamed. “She has changed you, you know.”

“She…she has?”

Of course she had. Catherine had made me want a woman in a way I had not wanted anyone since…

Oh my God. I had forgotten her name.

Just for a moment, I had forgotten Olivia’s name.

And there was no shame in that. No rush of remorse.

Was this it? Was this the knowledge that I was ready…ready to love another?

“Miss Catherine Shenton has brought you out of your shell, and I must say I am delighted to see it,” continued the Earl of Tuxford, utterly unaware of the shock reeling through my chest. “She has grounded you. Tethered you to life in a new way. Don’t you see it?”

Catherine had stepped away from Markham and his wife and was now chattering to William, Lilah’s husband, and the Viscount Kirekwall. She said something with a lilting smile and the two men chuckled appreciatively.

Jealousy rose once again, but it was tempered with something else. Something I did not recognize.

I swallowed. It was pride.

I was proud of her.

“She has grounded me,” I said aloud, realizing in that instant that the Earl of Tuxford was probably waiting for a reply. “In a way, I had not noticed.”

“Ah, one does not notice when one is falling in love,” said the Earl of Tuxford, rising to his feet and slapping me on the back.

In love?

No. No, absolutely not. Absolutely?—

“I said before, Kineallen, that I like to know a business acquaintance of mine is taking the future of his duchy seriously,” continued the Earl of Tuxford with a raised eyebrow. “I had worried that you had decided to court young Miss Shenton merely to please me.”

Oh hell?—

“But now I can see that your affections for her are far beyond that,” he said happily. “You interest me, Kineallen, and so does this Gambling Dukes of yours. Let us speak more on it—another night.”

He stepped away to join his wife, her hand reaching naturally for his arm which he gave without seemingly a thought.

That was what I wanted.

The thought was sharp and unexpected but not unwelcome.

That was what I wanted. The seamless connection, the knowledge that if she reached out for me, I was already expecting her.

Affection, between two people.

I glanced back over at Catherine, who was looking at me. Her smile was knowing, her eyes bright, and she wore that silk gown as though she had been born to be a duchess.

Born to be a duchess?

Oh, hell.