Page 34 of Her Rogue of a Duke
“Unorthodox? Oh, I see nothing wrong with such extravagance,” Lady Susan replied as she surveyed the room. “Lord Carrington has been bestowed with such magnificent wealth. Why should he not flaunt it?”
Bestowed?Joshua almost laughed. That was precisely the response he would have anticipated from a daughter of the Earlof Gladstone. While Lady Susan’s attention was momentarily diverted taking in the surroundings, Benedict shot him a look filled with regret, silently apologizing for almost revealing Joshua’s guarded secret. Admittedly, Joshua was greatly relieved that Lady Susan appeared not to have heard anything, but he was not about to cling to his irritation at Benedict's near slip-up. He gave his friend a small smile and nod, indicating that all was well between them.
When Lady Susan turned her attention back to them, she appeared to once again have missed the important details of the two friends’ exchange.
“I say,” she began, fixing up her saccharine smile, “the orchestra tonight is rather delightful. Shall we move closer to the dance floor, Your Grace?”
Truly, the last thing that Joshua cared to do was dance, let alone with Lady Susan. Yet, just as he prepared to fabricate an excuse to avoid that entire section of the ballroom, his attention was abruptly drawn to Francesca, who was gracefully moving amidst the dancers.
Worse, she was on the arm of Lord Terrell.
A surge of anger colored his vision, and for a moment, he was tempted to stride over and extricate Francesca from that blackguard’s clutches. He managed to keep his temper in check, however. Still, he could not resist getting closer to observe them more clearly.
What on earth was she thinking? Was she pursuing Hucklow again as a potential suitor? Even after his recent indiscretion?
Joshua hated not knowing, so, turning to Lady Susan with a smile that belied his true feelings, he replied a touch enthusiastically, “I agree, my lady, proceeding towards the dance floor sounds most… agreeable.”
Lady Susan appeared delighted, while Benedict shot him a bewildered glance, fully aware of Joshua's aversion to dancing in public. However, Joshua ignored them both, his gaze honing in on Francesca as he tried to decipher if she had truly felt desperate enough to settle for the likes of a rake such as Liam Terrell.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lord Terrell was still talking. No, rather,drawling.There was a part of Francesca that was begrudgingly impressed by his ability to prattle endlessly while saying essentially nothing of substance. He was merely weaving a tapestry of excuses to justify why she had found him in the passionate grasp of another lady.
“—So naturally, it was beyond my control,” he persisted, as they continued to move across the dance floor together. “She was decidedly the seductress, and your arrival was nothing short of timely, to rescue me from the chit.”
Francesca barely kept herself from rolling her eyes at him. She did not want to continue this conversation. Why did this dance piece seem to stretch into eternity? She yearned for its climax with every fiber of her being.
“And you. You, my dear, possess such generosity of spirit,” he eventually declared, apparently exhausting his list of justifications. “Surely, you can extend your forgiveness to me.You must now realize my absolute innocence in that regrettable affair.”
Francesca sighed, but she did not respond to him right away. He did not seem to mind her silence, however. If anything, he appeared to take it as acceptance of his apology.
“I assure you, I shall make amends,” he vowed.
Frustration welled within Francesca. She should not be wasting her time with Lord Terrell. She needed to be mingling with other suitors, not lingering with a man whose intentions she already doubted. Yet, a nagging thought reminded her that Lord Terrell could present an easy solution to her pressing need for marriage. The prospect of rekindling their courtship loomed as a practical, albeit unpalatable, possibility.
The very notion made her want to gag, but her situation did not afford her the luxury of being overly selective.
What if Lord Terrell was her only viable option? Could she permit her family's estate, her very home, to escape her grasp simply due to her belief that the only man willing to wed her was utterly repugnant?
It felt as though a stone had dropped in her stomach. If she were forced to marry Lord Terrell, would she really be able to go through with it?
Her tumultuous thoughts were abruptly disrupted when she felt Lord Terrell's hand slip, inappropriately, from her waist, lower to her hip. She blinked, caught off guard by his wandering touch. What in good heavens was he thinking? Still not wanting to draw attention to them and cause a scene, Francesca tried to discourage his exploration by shifting her hip and nudging his hand upward. Unfortunately, her subtle rebuff seemed to go either unnoticed or outright ignored.
His hand moved from her hip to wrap completely around her waist and he pulled her flush against him. Francesca was horrified. They were far too close for this to be considered proper, and what made him think he had the right to take such liberties with her, especially in public? She tried to push against his chest to put some distance between them, but his arm around her waist was like iron and she could not budge him.
“My lord,” she admonished through gritted teeth. “It is quite… unseemly to be...”
“I ran into your cousin, Gerard, the other day at White’s,” Lord Terrell suddenly muttered.
It took Francesca a moment to catch up with the abrupt change in subject.
“He inquired extensively about the nature of our relationship,” he continued. “He repeatedly questioned my intentions regarding marriage to you. Though he seemed rather displeased by the idea, I assured him of my… or rather,ourcommitment.”
Francesca frowned up at him, utterly confused.
“Why should Gerard concern himself with my marriage?” she muttered more to herself than to him.
Does he intend to make a play for the remnants of the Oakvale fortune?