Page 11 of The Duke’s Second Bride (Regency Second Chances #4)

His strong form pressed against the fabric of his well-tailored suit, his legs muscular where they rose out of his boots. He carried himself well as always, with the easy grace of a man who had spent many of his hours outside, engaged in all kinds of athletic pursuits.

And his eyes. They carried such unknowable depths and such fierce passion. Ava realized, for a breathless moment, that he was looking back at her. Unlike the way she felt when Brandon looked at her, she wasn’t frightened by the intensity of the duke’s gaze.

Rather, she felt warm and liquid deep inside.

It was like holding her hand over an open flame, a moment before it became too hot to bear; she was thrilled by the nearness to something so bright, even if it meant risking being burned.

When he broke eye contact just a short moment later, she tried to tamp down the flicker of disappointment that blazed up alongside her brief desire.

Christian had barely been in the ballroom for thirty seconds before he was accosted.

The first to approach him was the dowager duchess, his aunt, and the grandmother of his late cousins, Jasper and Nicholas.

“Christian!” she cried, a feather bobbing from where it had been stuck into her fashionably coiffed white hair.

“Oh, it has been too long. How are you? How is sweet Luke? How old must he be now, eleven? It has been too long since I have seen him, as well! How is the estate? Has he grown out of that dear sweet stutter?”

Christian wasn’t sure how to respond to this bombardment of questions, but he particularly bristled at that last one.

What could he say?

He cleared his throat. He would have to come up with something. “Well?—”

“Ah, Richmond! I was wondering if you would show your face tonight,” a deep, jovial voice said from behind him. He turned to see, with relief, Vincent and his wife, Sophia. “To what do we owe the distinct pleasure of your company?”

Though he was glad to see his friend, amidst this sea of people who only wanted something from him, Christian could not help but narrow his eyes with suspicion at the jest. Vincent laughed, clapping a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“I only jest, friend,” he said kindly. “We’re glad to see you, truly. I was just saying you need to get out to social soirees more often! The ton misses you.”

Christian gave a small, grim smile. “Well, then, I’m sorry to disappoint you and the ton both,” he said. “For I assure you, I am here only for business.”

Vincent clasped both hands against his heart with faux wounded-ness, and both his wife and the dowager duchess laughed at the melodrama.

“Ah, Christian, my boy! That’s not what I like to hear,” the dowager duchess said, her tone disapproving, but not cold, as she wagged a finger at Christian. “You are working far too hard! When was the last time you truly came out just to enjoy yourself?”

“Just as I was saying, Your Grace,” Vincent replied smartly, giving Christian a raised brow as if to say, See? It’s not just me who thinks so.

“A ball is a time for pleasure!” the older woman continued, gesturing at the ballroom, “not for business! Let your work matters fall to the side just for this one evening, my child. Enjoy yourself; have a drink; dance with a lady.” Here she paused to give him a cheeky nudge in the side.

“It’s not right for a man to be alone when there are so many lovely women in attendance waiting to be asked to the dance floor. ”

Christian maintained his composure, though he could not entirely keep his eye from twitching.

Sophia, perhaps noticing this, touched her husband’s arm.

“Vincent, darling, perhaps you should take a turn about the room with the duke? You could help him look for his business partner. Surely the sooner he is done with his work, the sooner he can properly turn his attention to the efforts of fully enjoying the festivities, like the rest of us.”

Christian recognized that she was offering him a chance to escape the dowager duchess’s insistence on inundating him with questions, and he gave her a nod of silent thanks.

Vincent nodded. “Of course!” As soon as they were a little way away from the ladies, he lowered his voice and said to Christian. “Business, eh? Is that really why you are here? Or is there perhaps a certain lady who has caught your eye?”

Christian glared at him. “Leave it alone.”

Vincent laughed. “All right, all right. Very well. How is Luke, then?”

“He is as well as always.”

“Is he faring well with the new tutor?”

“Seems so,” Christian said blandly.

“That’s good, that’s good,” Vincent said.

Before he could say anything more, Christian’s eyes fell on Lady Dunfair across the room.

She looked ravishing, her figure caressed by a satin gown the color of rich forest moss.

A few tendrils had escaped her meticulously pinned hairstyle.

He had the urge to watch her take down her hair, to see it tumble down over her shoulders.

Her lips were pink and plush, and the exposed column of her neck was almost too much to bear.

If they were alone, he would scarcely be able to wait five minutes before tearing that beautiful dress from her, he thought. What soft skin and luscious curves must lie beneath? He longed to know the taste of her skin. He ached to feel himself slotted between her thighs.

He was doomed, he realized. As long as Lady Ava Dunfair was in London, she would continue to torment his every thought any time he saw her irresistible beauty.

“Ah, Lord Barringford! Just the man we were looking for,” Vincent exclaimed.

Christian was shaken from his lustful reverie and tore his gaze away from Lady Dunfair.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Good to see you, Barringford. I was hoping to discuss whether you had any news of …”

As the conversation continued, Christian only found himself with a moment to glance back at Lady Dunfair.

But when he looked at where she had been standing a few minutes ago, she was gone.

Soon enough, the musicians started up, and the dancing was in full swing. No sooner had the first waltz been announced than a young man approached Edith and Ava.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said with a bow, before extending a hand to Edith. “I would be most pleased, Madam, if you would give me the generosity of sharing the first dance with me.”

Edith’s eyes lit up. Ava knew how much her friend loved dancing. But then Edith hesitated, looking at Ava. Ava gave a little gesture indicating that Edith could go.

It’s all right , she tried to say with her eyes.

Edith smiled and left with the gentleman.

Watching her friend begin to whirl around the room, Ava looked about, hopeful that perhaps someone would ask her to dance, too.

How long had it been since she had been asked to dance?

Surely not for many years. The last time she recalled dancing with William was at their wedding, and that had been eight or nine years ago.

But no gentlemen approached. Not a single one.

She tried to temper her disappointment.

“… really, poor Lady Dunfair. Have you heard the awful things people have been saying about her?” came a whisper from a few steps away. “It is ridiculous. How could anyone be so silly as to spread around such foolish trollop?”

That bolstered her spirits a little bit to hear someone, anyone, defending her. Perhaps she should have let Edith tell off those rumormongers. But it would pass, she reassured herself. As the whisperer pointed out, rumors were too over-the-top to be believed for long.

“They may be ridiculous,” came another whisper. “But every rumor contains a grain of truth, don’t you believe?”

“Oh, come now. Surely you don’t think for one moment that Lady Dunfair was having an affair with her brother-in-law?”

“Oh, certainly not. But there’s no denying the late Lord Dunfair was far from faithful. After all, he did little to nothing to hide his indiscretions.”

“Yes. How ghastly. That is hardly the lady’s fault, though.”

“Well … perhaps it is.”

“How could you say that?”

“Well, I don’t think she was being unfaithful to him, but she never gave him children. Perhaps she was unable to, and that is why he had to seek comfort elsewhere.”

“And risk siring children out of wedlock?”

“With a barren wife, perhaps it was his only hope at having any sort of heir. I pity Lady Dunfair, make no mistake. But I do not know if I can entirely blame the late lord for having the desire to continue his legacy.”

Tears welled in Ava’s eyes, and she immediately made to exit the ballroom.

The insinuations that she was unfaithful, or somehow involved with Brandon, of all people—those were hurtful, yes, but they were also too far from the realm of reality to cut deep.

The implication that her failure to give William children somehow justified his affairs?

That was hurtful beyond measure. It was too close to the things he had heard William saying about her.

And even after what she had overheard between him and his physician, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder if it still was her fault after all.

Perhaps William could have been fertile if he had been married to another woman?

She hated William for making her feel this way.

Hated Brandon for doing everything he could to rob her of what little stability and reputation she might have left.

Hated everyone in the ballroom, saying such vicious things as though it were nothing but mere entertainment for them, as though it had no bearing on her life.

She hated this entire place. All she wanted was to go home.

She rushed through the halls of the estate until she was outside, in the garden by the entrance to the townhouse.

The night air helped some. Her tears cooled on her cheeks. She breathed deeply, in and out, until her heart rate steadied and the tears had somewhat abated, but she still ached terribly deep in her chest.

“Are you in need of assistance, my lady?”