Page 72 of Dukes All Night Long

The dance was fast and required quick steps. It was an ordinary country dance, but it required concentration. “Why? What do you want to know?” she asked.

“I’d like to know more about the lady I’ve been kissing.”

She almost missed a dance step. Her cheeks burned. “I’d hardly call that a kiss,” she said.

His mouth dropped open and his eyes danced. “My apologies, miss. I shall try and do better next time.”

She turned her head. This conversation would not do. It was impolite, bordering on indecent, even if it excited her. He excited her.

She could feel it, a warm feeling right down to her toes, a thrill that filled her each time the dance required him to take her hand.

“You assume that there will be a next time.”

His grin widened and he took the opportunity to press her hand as they clasped palms again in the dance. “I am an optimist.”

She rolled her eyes. “This thief you spoke of,” she said, “how do you hope to catch them?”

“By laying a trap. Of course, my uncle’s cufflinks should be temptation enough.”

Her eyes narrowed. He looked so confident, part of her wanted to wipe the smile off his face. Here he was playing games with a thief and dancing. It spoke of not taking the world seriously.

“You dislike something I’ve said. I can tell by your expression. What is it?” he asked.

“You dance and kiss random women and lay traps with thieves. But do you have any thought of what happens if you fail?”

Falstaff’s smile disappeared.

“It is the servants who will pay the price for your games,” she pointed out.

“There is no need to worry about them,” a young male voice interrupted. “They would all steal our last knife and fork if they could. I never trust a servant. I’ve had a new one every few months for the past five years, and they never stay long, not once they can tell you’re onto their tricks.”

The impeccably dressed young man with a green mask had slick, black hair and dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t wait for a reply as he moved away in another dance formation.

Falstaff said, “Don’t listen to him. Chaundry always tries his luck with the women servants and is so horrible, the servants never stay longer than a year. He’s constantly trying to steal away other people’s servants. But it never lasts long.” He shook his head.

“You don’t think he would try to steal the cufflinks, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Chaundry, the Ton thief? No, he’s rich enough. He doesn’t need the money. And to be honest…” Falstaff leaned in close. “I don’t think he could do it successfully. I mean, he’s all talk and no action.”

Lucy nodded, slightly distracted by Falstaff’s musky, slightly spicy scent. It smelled masculine and inviting, and a part of her relished being this close to him.

The dance ended and they stepped apart. Lucy noted the distance between them with some regret.

“Come. Let us simply pretend that we are guests tonight at a ball and there is nothing underfoot except maybe a few stolen kisses.” Falstaff’s smile returned.

She couldn’t help but smile back.

Then came a tap at a shoulder. Miss Butters stood there, dressed in lilac and with her mouth in a pretty, pursed frown. “There you are. Dancing the night away when you should be meeting people. Come, Falstaff. There’s someone you simply have to meet.”

Her smile at Lucy was so saccharine sweet, Lucy fancied she might get a toothache.

Instead, Lucy inclined her head and stepped away, content to let him go. He might have been free and easy when it came to setting a trap for a thief, but she had other ideas.

The duke was kind and did not deserve to have his ruby cufflinks stolen. She wanted to prevent that from happening if she could. At the same time, the thief might not even have been at the party. All their plans and plots might be for nothing, which, in retrospect, would be a good thing.

Lucy decided to enjoy herself. So she danced two dances with different gentlemen, drank champagne, ate pastries and delectable savory finger foods, then danced some more until her feet ached.

She wandered into the room with the display of ruby cufflinks and coughed at the scent of rosewater perfume.

She looked more closely at the display and noticed a pearl brooch, a golden cross inlaid with precious stones.

The room itself was a sort of collection room, and the walls bore a few old family portraits, and there, lurking at the back of the room, stood a suit of medieval armor against the back wall, like a silent statue amongst the shadows, keeping watch.

She shivered. Had it just moved? She turned and glanced at an ornate crossbow hung over the doorway and was peering at a range of historical muskets when a voice came from behind her.

“See anything you like?”

It was the duke’s nephew, Falstaff. Her blood began to pulse in her veins and a thrill passed over her.

“Maybe. I do like history. I always have,” she said.

He came closer. “You wouldn’t rather be reading poetry or a novel, a ladies’ magazine, perhaps?” he teased.

“No, there is a time and place for that, but this isn’t it.” She met his blue eyes, but before they could speak, the candles went out. They were plunged into darkness.

She stiffened. “What happened?”

A chill wind blew into the room, sending the smoky tendrils of the candles into the air. They were pitched into shadow, and she felt a warm, masculine hand take hers.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Someone must have left a window open. The wind likely blew the candles out.”

“Falstaff? Falstaff, are you in here?” Miss Butters called.

Falstaff pulled Lucy’s hand with some urgency. “Here, do you trust me?”

“What? I hardly know you,” she said.

“Do you trust me?” he asked again.

“Falstaff?” Miss Butters’s voice grew louder.

Falstaff looked at Lucy intently.

“Yes. All right, yes. But why?” Lucy asked.

“This way, quickly.” He pulled her across the room to a floor to ceiling bookcase and tugged on a book. Slowly, a section of the bookcase began to slide open.

Lucy could have clapped in delight. A bookcase that led to a secret passage. This was too good to be true.

“Come on,” Falstaff said, and he pulled her into darkness.

Lucy’s heart beat in her throat as they stood together. Falstaff gently released her hand and pushed the open bookcase shut. It moved with agonizing slowness, then shut with a click.

“What are you do—?” she started when Falstaff whispered, “Don’t make a sound.”

Lucy pressed her lips tightly together and hardly dared breathe. They waited as he listened intently.

“Falstaff? Falstaff?” Miss Butters’s footsteps grew louder.

Then they heard a noise, and a moment later, the bookcase began to open.

Falstaff immediately pressed himself flat against Lucy’s body, pinning her to the wall.

She held her breath, inhaling his scent. His breath was tinged of champagne, and being so close to his skin, she breathed in the heady scent of his musky cologne.

Feeling his body pressed firmly against hers, Lucy found herself thoroughly enjoying the situation and began to relax.

He was all hard planes and muscle compared to her feminine softness.

And whilst her old governess would have been having a fit if they saw them together, frankly, she didn’t anticipate any more romance in her life for quite some time.

Possibly ever , she thought sadly. She was a bit tipsy, so she decided to enjoy the moment, as long as it lasted.

Falstaff was still, so she froze and didn’t move a muscle. It was exciting being trapped in here with him like this.

Her eyes were wide as a head peered into the darkness of the secret passageway. Miss Butters paused for a minute, then backed out. The bookcase began to close again, shutting a moment later.

Then came a crash, and Lucy jumped.

“Don’t worry,” Falstaff said. “It was probably the suit of armor we’ve got back there. It probably fell over in the wind.”

Once the door shut, Lucy asked, “Should we go see?”

Falstaff’s lips met hers.

He had silenced her with a kiss, she realized, but didn’t mind.

His mouth found hers in the dark and she reveled in the privacy of it all. The intimacy of two strangers in the darkness, both with a want and need like she’d never known.

He broke off the kiss, leaving her breathless. “You are so beautiful,” he mumbled. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You were cruel tonight, you know.”

“And how is that?” Her voice was breathy.

“You were cruel because I had to watch you dance with other men this evening, when all I wanted was to steal you away and dance with you in the moonlight.”

His words sent an icy shiver down her spine. “And what would we have danced? A quadrille, a country dance? A reel, perhaps.”

“Neither. I would hold you close, too close for propriety, and risk shocking anyone who came out and saw us. But I wouldn’t care. We would dance to the sound of the trees,” he murmured.

That sounds lovely , she thought. If a bit cold.

He trailed a finger down her jawline and like a cat, she luxuriated in his touch.

She didn’t know why. All she knew was as he pulled gently at the knotted ribbon behind her head, freeing her midnight-blue mask from her face, her heartbeat quickened.

Her chest rose and fell, a pale beauty in the darkness.

Lucy knew she shouldn’t have been enjoying herself this much, but her hands seemed to move of their own accord, entangling in Falstaff’s light-brown hair. As she heard a sound of appreciation from his throat, she loosened his mask and let it fall to the floor. “Where are we?”

“A secret passage. I should have known Miss Butters would look for me here. We explored all these passages together as children.”

But the way he said it, she wondered if exploring the passages was all they had done.

As if reading her thoughts, Falstaff said, “You have to understand. Miss Butters and I grew up together. Our families are old friends. I never realized until recently that she had feelings or romantic expectations.”

Falstaff’s hands lowered to her waist and pulled her closer.