Page 40 of Her Heartless Duke

As Miles and Fiona bowed to each other, the butler of Wellington Place continued to announce the arrival of the other guests.

“Lord Humphreys!”

“The Countess of Marlborough!”

“His Grace, the Duke of Langley!”

Olivia stiffened when she heard Isaac’s title called out. Slowly, she turned her gaze towards the grand staircase to see him casually striding down the carpeted steps. For that night, he had chosen a navy blue tailcoat that flaunted his broad shoulders to perfection. His wavy dark hair was combed back and neatly tied with a black velvet ribbon.

For a moment, he paused in the middle of the stairs, his eyes briefly scanning the room as if searching for something.

Or someone.

Perhaps he is looking for Lady Vivian, she realized bitterly.

But then, his gaze settled on her and a slow smile graced his face. Olivia suddenly felt warm, the tension in her body dissipating at that moment, and she found herself smiling back at him.

He gave her a subtle nod before turning towards a group of gentlemen and Olivia let out a soft sigh. Only Isaac could wind her up so tight, like a spring coil, and then unwind her just as quickly.

She fanned herself a little too frantically, turning away from him and the devastating effects of his gaze.

Calm yourself, Olivia, she admonished herself.You cannot let on that you are attracted to him!

Perhaps if she tried the very tactic that Fiona employed on Miles earlier, it might work on him, too… but then the very idea of it was laughable.

Isaac could not be more different from Lord Westmore. Where Miles was kind, charming, and funny at times, Isaac possessed a darker side to him that was made all the more prominent after his experience at the Peninsula.

But she had also seen the way he looked at her, caught glimpses of the man that lay shrouded in the barely tempered anguish and rage of his exterior.

“Such deep thoughts you have tonight, Lady Olivia,” a low baritone teased her. “My, what a terrifying prospect.”

She whirled around to find the very subject of her thoughts grinning at her and her heart began thumping crazily in her chest.

“Your Grace,” she curtsied politely to him.

“Lady Olivia,” he returned the greeting with a polished bow. “How are you this fine evening?”

What a question!

Olivia felt torn between nervousness and hilarity and in the back of her mind, there was a pounding headache she managed to keep at bay with copious amounts of rosemary tea. Hopefully, it would be enough to tide her over for the night.

“I am feeling rather well tonight, Your Grace,” she squeaked out. “And you?”

“I find myself astonishingly pleased to be here, for one who has been coerced to come,” he grinned.

Olivia felt warmth creep up her cheeks. It had been her idea to convince him to attend the ball tonight, but not exactly for the reasons she told him.

Leaning in, ever so subtly, he whispered, “Dance with me, Olivia.”

Her gaze drifted up to meet his with a tremulous smile. “Your Grace, I believe that it should be ‘Will you do me the honor of this dance?’”

“I should like to think we are well past such things,” he replied with a slight smile. “Dance with me.”

His voice was low, possessed of a hypnotic charm that she could not resist. With her head pounding to the beat of her own heart, she nodded and guided her hand into his. She felt the flutter deep in her belly when he smiled wider and tucked her hand into his arm as he led her to the dance floor.

The musicians started to play the first few strains and they bowed to each other.

“A waltz?” she asked him in confusion as he held her close. “B-but this is—”