Page 43 of The Duke In My Bed (The Heirs’ Club of Scoundrels #1)

… my heart dances; But not for joy; not joy.

Bray’s stomach was twisted into a knot. A feeling he didn’t quite understand or know how to handle stirred inside him. He kept telling himself it couldn’t be jealousy.

He refused to let it be jealousy. He could have any woman he wanted. Why did he only want Louisa?

This was the third night in a row he’d come to the Great Hall and watched Louisa dancing with Lord Bitterhaven, and it was at least the eighth night they’d danced in the past two weeks.

There could have been other times—probably were other times—that Bray didn’t know about.

The thought of that man making inroads into her affections ate at Bray, making him want to walk over and yank the earl away from her.

Bray hadn’t tried to speak to Louisa since the night they spent together.

She hadn’t tried to talk to him either. It had been almost three weeks since he went to her house and comforted her, held her, and made love to her.

Many were the times he’d closed his eyes and remembered each whispered sigh, each caress.

Thoughts of her beneath him again were killing him.

But his feelings were more than just being restless and missing Louisa.

He missed the girls, too. He wanted to see if Bonnie’s teeth had started coming down.

He wanted to know what Sybil was up to and if Lillian was still playing the pianoforte.

Blast it all, he wanted to hear them squeal in laughter again.

A server passed by with a tray, and he grabbed a glass of red wine. When he turned back around, he saw that Lord Sanburne had walked up beside him. Bray was in no mood for the man’s idle prattle.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

“Lord Sanburne,” Bray acknowledged dryly, and took a sip of the wine, but kept his gaze on the crowded ballroom below.

“We’re more than halfway through the Season, and no one has seen you dance with Miss Prim yet.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, and quite frankly, we all find it extremely odd.”

“Do you?” he said, still not bothering to look at the pompous earl.

“Don’t you?”

“No. You’ve danced with her, haven’t you?”

“Y—yes,” Lord Sanburne said, stumbling over the word.

“Many gentlemen have danced with her, as you well know. Someone needs to, given the fact that you haven’t.

The question is, why haven’t you? No one has even seen you talk to her since the first night of the Season.

And that was more than a month ago now.”

Bray knew exactly how long it had been, and he didn’t need reminders from this man. “Sanburne, your fascination with my life is beginning to worry me.”

“What? What do you mean? I don’t have fascination with your life. That’s an absurd accusation, and you know it.”

Bray took another drink from his glass and remained silent. The man didn’t know when to quit.

“Well, what do you have to say?” the earl asked pointedly.

“Hold this,” Bray said, and shoved his wineglass into the earl’s hands.

“Ah, ah—now, see here, Your Grace, I’m not your servant!”

Bray paid the man no mind. He strode down into the swirling throng of people in the ballroom.

As was his custom, he headed to pay his respects to the widows, dowagers, and spinsters.

He waded through the crowd, speaking to some, nodding to others, but as usual, not allowing anyone to detain him for long until he’d kissed the hands of all the ladies lining the dance floor.

He knew that would be the one part of the evening he would enjoy.

The ladies looked forward to the attention he gave them, and he looked forward to their smiles.

By the time he’d greeted them all, a new dance was starting, so he invited an elderly but still lovely viscountess to join him on the dance floor.

Louisa had a new partner, too, a younger, more handsome man than Lord Bitterhaven, but for the life of him, Bray couldn’t remember his name.

Miss Gwen was on the dance floor, too, with Mr. Standish.

Bray assumed that meant the rakish blade was behaving himself when he was with her. That surprised Bray and pleased him.

Bray kept the conversation going with the viscountess, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to Louisa every chance he got.

Her light pink gown was cut far too low.

He didn’t know what Mrs. Colthrust was thinking in letting her wear it.

Surely Louisa could see that the dandy she was waltzing with had his thoughts on her bosom and not on what she was saying.

Thankfully, just as Bray was thinking he’d leave his partner stranded in the middle of the floor and go jerk the man’s head off, the dance ended.

He smiled at the vicountess and escorted her back to her seat. His duty for the evening accomplished, he searched for Louisa once more. He didn’t know why he came to the Great Hall when it was such torture to watch her dancing, talking, and laughing with other men.

But then, he couldn’t fool himself. He did know why.

Every once in a while, he would catch her staring at him with her gorgeous blue eyes, and the attention thrilled him.

He’d bet his title that whenever she was watching him, she was remembering, like him, their few moments of stolen ecstasy on the settee in her drawing room.

He still couldn’t believe she’d let him make love to her and then had the nerve to tell him she didn’t want to marry him. For days, he felt as if she’d gotten what she sought from him and then sent him on his way as if he were an unwelcome suitor.

He knew he was a difficult man at times, but Louisa was a difficult lady at times, too.

She was just too damn independent for her own good.

Not only that, but he didn’t have five—he stopped and swore under his breath— four sisters to bring into a marriage.

Hearing those girls’ screams, squeals, and crying had always made him want to bolt for the door—but Louisa made him want to run to her door.

For over two years, he’d thought he would be happy if she didn’t want to marry him. But that was before he met her, got to know her, kissed her, and made her his. That was before she made him feel things he didn’t want to even think about: jealousy, anger, hurt, and love.

Love?

Hell no. He knew how to make a woman feel loved, but he didn’t know how to love one. It wasn’t in him to do so.

Could that be the reason she’d rejected his offer of marriage, could it be that she was waiting for him to declare his love for her?

Hell, what was he thinking? She didn’t want to marry him, because she didn’t need to marry him. He was her guardian. She knew that he would see to it she and her sisters had very comfortable lives. Still, it rankled that she was the one dismissing him.

He glanced around the room, hoping to see Seaton or Harrison, but all he saw was Louisa heading to the dance floor with yet another partner.

Was she going to dance every dance and wear out her shoes?

He looked for a young lady he might quickly sweep onto the dance floor himself when he caught sight of Mr. Hopscotch standing on the landing, searching the faces in the crowded room.

No doubt the man was looking for him. In Bray’s current mood, he’d probably smash the man’s face in if he insisted one more time that he must marry Louisa to save the Prince from embarrassment.

Bray was near the door to the courtyard, so he quickly opened it and dashed out onto the slate terrace.

The night air had a chill, and to add to his already foul mood, it was foggy as well. There were several couples close together in various parts of the lighted grounds. He didn’t want to watch lovers whispering to each other in the dark.

Bray walked down past the cupid fountain that centered the courtyard and saw even more lovers taking advantage of the foggy evening.

He grunted to himself. There was no peace for him at this place tonight and maybe not anywhere.

He knew the only reason he was hanging around and didn’t go to one of his clubs was because he didn’t want to leave so long as Louisa was there.

But worse than that, he was aching to hold her, to hear her contented sighs, to feel her beneath him moaning softly with sweet pleasure.

A sound of feminine distress reached him and disturbed his thoughts. He listened. He could barely make out the woman’s words, but it sounded like she was saying, “No, let me go.”

He looked around. The sounds hadn’t seemed to disturb any of the couples who were dotting the landscape and the terrace. Some young buck had obviously had too much to drink and was trying to steal a few kisses and caresses from an unwilling female. It wasn’t his problem.

When would young ladies learn that the reason a man took them for a walk in the garden was so he could kiss them and touch them?

Men were born to try to dominate females, and it was up to the woman not to let that happen.

He certainly hadn’t been able to dominate Miss Prim.

If anything, she had been dominating his thoughts ever since he met her.

Bray started to walk off when he heard running. He stopped and looked in the direction of the footsteps and saw Gwen hurrying up the pathway.

His breath stalled in his lungs. “What the bloody hell?” he mumbled as a fierce protectiveness rose up in him.

He hurried across the courtyard at an angle and caught up to her and said, “Miss Gwen, stop.”

She glanced over at him and quickly looked away. “No, please, I want to be alone.”

He grabbed her arm, stopping her. He took notice of the other couples nearby. It appeared only one had paused their conversation to look at them, so he let go of her.

“You can try to run away and make a scene so everyone will know what’s wrong with you, or you can stand here and quietly tell only me what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” she said, keeping her head down.

“That is not the truth.”