Page 28 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

“You say that like I should feel better about the prospect.”

“Have you never taken a spill off a horse before?”

“I have. Didn’t enjoy it. Don’t recommend it for beautiful women with reckless streaks.”

She scoffed at that, though he could see the slight color rising in her cheeks.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said at last, “Though I am not fond of interference, I am grateful.”

“Interference,” he repeated, amused. “That’s what you’re calling saving your lovely, stubborn hide?”

A smile curved her lips—soft, almost unwillingly—and turned her head slightly, breaking the spell.

Dominic still hadn’t let go of her waist. He could feel the warmth of her through her riding jacket, and part of him didn’t want to ever release her.

But she shifted then, pulling back a few inches, enough to cool the moment.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Your Grace,” she said. “Always have been.”

He let his hand fall from her waist.

“Yes,” he said, quieter now. “I can tell.”

“Good.”

She watched him a beat longer, and then with a flick of the reins, turned her mare and took off again down the trail—faster this time, as if trying to outrun whatever had just passed between them.

Dominic didn’t follow immediately. He exhaled slowly, as if he’d just dismounted from battle. In a way, maybe he had.

She always ran.

But today, just for a moment, she had leaned into him.

And God help him, he would keep riding after her—again and again—until the day she finally stayed.

Chapter Fifteen

“They’re staring at us,” Elizabeth whispered shakily.

Somehow, a rough man like her father knew how to host a ball. The stag hunt, she could understand—Lord Grisham’s demeanor was almost predatory, veiled beneath politeness.

No,feralwas the better word. Cruel.

That same cruel man had the ballroom glittering with crystals and candles, while young women added their beauty with coiffed hair and satin gowns. If the first night had been filled with incredible music, tonight was even better. Laughter mingled with the melodies of piano and violins.

Marianne felt out of place in her own home, standing at one end and observing the others. Being a wallflower was far better than being noticed.

Tonight, she was dressed in green satin and velvet, the color of damp forest moss. Her hair was styled, with a few loose curls framing her face. Helena had done a fine job.

Beside her stood petite, blonde Elizabeth, fidgeting with her fan—open, close, open, close. Lizzie needed to relax. It was hard enough being two Grisham sisters, often ignored or maligned in Society.

Open. Close. Open. Close.

“Oh, let them,” Marianne replied, peering at the crowd through her lashes. “You are a lovely girl. If they are watching you, it’s to admire you.”

Elizabeth blushed but didn’t argue.

At two-and-twenty, Marianne was older than most young women being introduced to Society. Everything else about her felt strange, from her aversion to meat to her protests against hunting. She was too independent and opinionated to attract suitors. Add in having Serafina, she was merely a curiosity now—someone to gossip about, never to marry.