Page 29 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

Was he teasing her? Frances thought so and ventured a tremulous smile. He grinned back and spun the two of them around faster.

“I suppose you already know of that little fit of jealousy Lucien had recently,” Benjamin added. “He truly believed you were in love with the man you almost married.”

“A ridiculous notion.”

“I concur. I’m glad it’s smoothed over.”

Frances gave him a more sincere smile at that. “I want us all to be friends. I want a peaceful life, and an honest one.”

Benjamin nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose I want things to be the way they were before, too.”

Frances wasn’t sure that they were actually agreeing, but decided that an argument would not be in anyone’s best interest. The music reached a crescendo, and the time had come to switch back. Frances left Benjamin behind, spinning around again somewhat blindly.

She bumped into a firm, warm body.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” came a familiar voice. “I have you.”

She opened her eyes and peered up at Lucien, smiling down at her. His eyes crinkled up at the corners, and he was flushed from the dancing.

“Nearly done,” he added, grinning.

A few more spins, a few more reels, and the music ended with a flourish. Frances barely had breath to clap, but she tried anyway.

“Nicely done,” Lucien murmured, his breath warm in her ear. “You dance very elegantly.”

“I could say the same of you.”

His gaze lingered on hers, and Frances’s heart began to beat a little faster than before. She did not look away, letting the moment intensify.

I want him, she realized, with a juddering rush. I want him to kiss me again, to put his hands on me as he did before. I want him so much it hurts .

How could she convey such a thing? Frances had no idea how to ask for any of it. In the books—the ones Proper Ladies were not meant to read—heroines never asked for anything. It just happened. In fact, that was what had happened at the underground ball, too.

I don’t want to be the swooning type of heroine who never knows what she wants, Frances thought, with a pang. I want to be me.

“Lucien,” she began carefully, her voice wobbling, “I wondered if…”

She was cut off as a figure bumped into her from behind, hard. Lurching forward, Frances thumped against Lucien, who steadied her with both hands on her shoulders.

“Have a care, sir!” he shouted, eyes blazing at the gentleman who’d bumped her. “You…” he trailed off, recognition dawning in his face.

Frances knew who it would be before she even turned around.

“Look at you, little Miss Knight,” Nicholas sneered, slurring his words. “Mixing with your betters as though you belong here. You’re no more noble than the footman in the corner.”

Frances sucked in a sharp breath, clutching at Lucien’s arm. Nicholas was not speaking loudly, and so far nobody seemed to have noticed him, but to say such things in public!

“You must not speak to me that way, Lord Easton,” Frances heard herself say, voice quavering. “It is not proper.”

He focused his unsteady gaze upon her.

“Proper? Proper ? How dare you tell me what is proper and what is not? I know all about you , Frances. Oh, yes, I do. To think I almost sullied myself…” he broke off, giving an alarmed squawk, as Lucien lunged forward and fisted his hand in Nicholas’ cravat.

“You’re in your cups,” Lucien murmured, his voice low and deep. “Lucky for you that you are, because if you said these things sober, I would break your head in two, in front of all these fine ladies and gentlemen. You know why I chose to leave the country, after all, do you not?”

Nicholas paled a little, but perhaps the proximity of other people gave him more courage, because he wrenched himself free and stepped back. Now, others were looking their way, perhaps sensing gossip.

“Do you know who she truly is, I wonder?” Nicholas whispered. “ Pretensions to grandeur are tiresome indeed. My darling, I see through your lies. ”

“You dare to recite such slander in here?” Lucien said, his voice surprisingly cool and even.

When Frances glanced up at him, however, she saw that his eyes were twitching and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

His fists were clenched at his sides, the knuckles standing out white.

He was close to snapping. “I shall have satisfaction for this, sir.”

“Oh, go and boil your head,” Nicholas hissed.

Lucien lunged forward again, and this time Frances was entirely sure he was going to strike Nicholas. She gave a yelp of alarm, clinging to his elbow, but it seemed to do no good.

And then, out of nowhere, Benjamin appeared, smoothly stepping between the two.

“I hope you aren’t about to strike a drunken fool like this, Lucien,” Benjamin remarked jovially. “It would be most unsporting. Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Lucien seemed to calm down a little, glancing at Frances as if to reassure himself that she was safe. He could not strike Nicholas now in any case, not without striking Benjamin first.

Benjamin gripped the back of Nicholas’ neck, and the drunken man’s eyes bulged.

“I shall take him outside to cool off and sober up,” Benjamin said, carefully keeping his voice even. “A lot of eyes are turned our way, Lucien. Duchess, are you quite safe? Not hurt?”

“He only bumped into me,” Frances whispered.

Benjamin nodded. “As I said, I shall take him away. Lucien, I suggest you go somewhere to let the duchess recover and to cool your own temper. It would be unforgivable to humiliate our hostess by causing a scene.”

Lucien’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, of course. Of course. Thank you, Benjamin.”

His friend gave a brief nod and a smile, and began to half-shove, half-drag Nicholas through the crowd. Lucien placed a hand on Frances’s elbow.

“I am sorry for the scene.”

“I’m not angry,” she answered, her voice small. “I… I feel dizzy, Lucien. As though I can’t breathe.”

His gaze sharpened. “Your nerves must have been quite shaken. Here, I know where we can go. Follow me.”