Page 14 of Enchanting the Duke

Abingdon looked as though he’d just bitten into a lemon.“Anyone but you.”

The old Nomansland would have laughed, perhaps even agreed.But he was not the old Nomansland.Or if he was, he no longer found the joke so funny.“She’s a grown woman.And she can dance with whomever she pleases.”

Abingdon gave him a long, searching look.“You’re serious.I realize Dinah asked you to be the first to dance with Chrissy at our assembly, but you realize that was to make her look more desirable to the other men.”

Nomansland shrugged.“And being seen with me will have the same effect here.”

Abingdon’s mouth twitched, as if he might say something more, but then he shook his head and straightened his cuffs.“If you so much as make her cry, I’ll have you shot.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Abingdon clapped him on the back again—hard enough to bruise—then melted into the crowd, presumably to find his wife and warn her of the impending disaster.

Nomansland turned back to the dance floor.Chrissy was executing a turn with unexpected grace.She had always moved with a kind of nervous energy, but here it seemed distilled into something bright and lovely.Her gown was white with pale green ribbons, edged with the faintest shimmer of gold, and it made her look like the morning after a storm—fresh, unspoiled, and a little bit wild.

The music ended, and the dancers clapped politely.Nomansland watched as her partner bowed and returned her to the chaperone cluster at the edge of the room, where Dinah waited beside Abingdon.Chrissy said something, and Dinah laughed, then turned a keen eye on Nomansland across the crowd.

He winked.It was not an accident.

He waited a moment, just long enough to collect a glass of punch from a passing footman and take a measured sip.The drink was abominable, but it settled his nerves.

The next dance was forming, a quadrille, judging from the formation of the dancers lining up, and he made his move, gliding through the crowd with the unhurried confidence of a man who had never once failed to get what he wanted.

He approached the Westfall ladies with a bow, his focus never wavering from Chrissy.“Will you join me?”he asked, extending his hand.

She hesitated.He saw it in the tremble of her fingers, but then she placed her gloved hand in his.Her skin was warm, even through the barrier of their gloves.

“You came,” she said, her voice low and just for him.

He smiled, letting her feel the force of it.“I told you I would.”

Her smile sent a shock of pleasure through him, and he led her toward the other dancers.They joined a set, and he placed her hand on his arm, savoring the feel of her so close.

The quadrille began.It was a merciless dance, all quick turns and calculated proximity, and he took every opportunity to draw her near.She kept up admirably, never once missing a step.

“You must tell me about Nomansland,” she said when they drew close enough to speak again.“It’s such an odd title.”

He chuckled.“My grandfather was a favorite of the Queen, and performed some magnanimous duty for her.She insisted her husband bestow a title on him.Nothing but a dukedom would do, she demanded.The King was less inclined to such generosity, but a man must please his wife, mustn’t he?Clearly, he looked for the least noble town he could find to let Grandfather know where he ranked in the King’s eye.Thus, the dukedom of Nomansland.”

Her laugh rang out and she clapped her hand over her mouth.“Forgive me, but…”

“I understand.My grandfather laughed about it often.”

They parted again, and when the steps brought them close she asked, “What did your grandfather do to impress the Queen?”

Nomansland let his smile grow.He had no idea what act had taken place, but his grandfather had a reputation as a generous lover.He wiggled his eyebrows at Chrissy and let her imagination take over.

She gasped.“Oh!”

She turned away as the dance required, and when she was back at his side, she said, “He must have been very good.”

Now it was Nomansland’s turn to laugh loudly.That was the interpretation he’d hoped for.

The quadrille ended in a flurry of bows and curtsies.Nomansland lingered, unwilling to relinquish her arm.The quartet was shifting into a slower, more languorous waltz—the kind that turned every conversation on the floor into foreplay.

“Are you engaged for the next?”he asked.

“Several times over,” she replied, but her tone was mischievous.“But I suspect none of them would put up much of a fight if you insisted.”