Page 50 of Her Heartless Duke

But how she wanted to make things right between them!

CHAPTERTWENTY

The ballroom of Anderleigh Hall was maintained exquisitely and just as before, there was a table laden with refreshments for them to enjoy at intervals during their practice—although there was no sign of the butler, Horace, or any of the great number of staff responsible for maintaining the London residence of the Duke of Langley.

That afternoon, it was Isaac who met her at the front door, and although she refused to meet his gaze after their encounter at Lady Willow’s opera, he remained ever the gracious host and patient teacher.

Both of them refrained from discussing that night and all the other things past.

I think it is just as well,Olivia thought to herself miserably as they paced around in a graceful circle.He still desires to be with Lady Vivian, and I am the one who is deceiving him into thinking his suit stands a chance.

It was a horrible thing to do, convincing him to teach her under false pretenses, but it was too late for her to back out now.

With her worsening condition, she might not even live long enough to be able to tell him the truth. She sincerely hoped she would at least have until the dance competition, to have all these stolen moments with Isaac—borrowed as they were—until the very end.

He released her from his arms and she pivoted lithely on her feet, twirling across the dance floor with one arm arched over her head, her chin raised slightly as she spun.

“Perfect,” he murmured, as he drew her back into his arms, their bodies falling in perfect synchrony to a melody only they could hear. “You have improved greatly, my Lady.”

“All thanks to your efforts, Your Grace,” she smiled at him from over her shoulder. “I only endeavor to be worthy of the time you have spent on me.”

They were Lady Olivia and the Duke of Langley and there would forever be a divide between them, much to the lamentation of her soul. But there were times when the lines blurred so much until she was not sure where she ended and he began.

It was as if dancing served to fuse their souls until they shared the same breath, the same quickening cadence of their hearts.

As the afternoon sunlight shone through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, rendering his deep dark hair a burnished hue, Olivia found herself praying only for his happiness and peace—that he might find them both even when she would no longer be there to be happy for him.

* * *

They never danced to music, although Horace had suggested that they hire some musicians to aid them in their practice. Isaac had refused his butler’s offer, claiming that Lady Olivia meant to keep their dance lessons a secret. The butler had been dismayed, but immediately recovered by preparing a bounty of refreshments for them in the ballroom. There was even achaise longuewhere one may rest after the rigors of dancing.

Isaac had felt that particular piece of furniture to be extremely out of place in the ballroom, but he recalled how Colonel Pierre had advised him that good nourishment and ample rest would help in stalling Olivia’s condition. Thus, it remained as it was in the ballroom, ready for her use, should she have need of it.

As he spun her around, he could not help but notice how greatly she had improved in recent weeks. In spite of her supposed condition, her cheeks were slightly flushed as she pirouetted lightly on her feet, her arm held aloft, their fingers lightly entwined as he led her around the dance floor.

Inwardly, he nearly laughed at the notion of ever needing music for their dance when his very blood called out her name with every beat of his heart.

Olivia, Olivia, Olivia, it sang, as if her name was the very hymn of the sirens themselves.

“Do you wish to stop?” he asked her, noting that her chest was rising and falling more rapidly than before their dance.

She shook her head. “I think I would like one more dance.”

He smiled and obliged her, although his gaze was drawn to her chest once more.

For that day, she had chosen a rose-colored dress shot through with silver threads, the square neckline providing an ample view of her bosom. It reminded him incessantly of how she tasted on his tongue—and how he wanted to taste more of her.

As a gentleman, he knew he should have regretted his actions last night at the opera, taking liberties with her person as he did. But when it came to Olivia, he found that he was intriguingly insatiable.

Their kisses never seemed enough. Their dances always seemed too short.

The time he spent with her was quite miserably inadequate.

He wanted more and more of her, even as he told himself that it was Lady Vivian he meant to marry.

This particular dance was one they seldom practiced, due to the intricacy of its steps and the sheer intensity it demanded. Dance, he had told her, was like a conversation between two people and this particular dance was the story of a passionate encounter.

It was rarely ever danced in respectable ballrooms as it had the ability to offend sensibilities, particularly in the more old-fashioned set.