Page 7 of The Lucky Catch (The Cricket Club #4)

L ord Oliver was true to his word. An hour later, the duke still hadn’t left Maggie’s side, and she was certain the ton would be living off stories of his smitten performance for the rest of the summer.

“Would you like some punch?” he asked, guiding her off the dance floor after their third dance.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Maggie insisted, waving her fan over her flushed face. She was actually sweating. And having fun. At a ball! Who would have thought?

Lord Oliver’s eyes slid around the room as he spoke to her. She noticed he did that a lot, as if he couldn’t help but make sure all attention was centered on him. The only time he hadn’t done it was when he’d spoken to Jo. “I’m a duke,” he replied, adding a playful little bow. “From time to time I allow myself to be charming and gallant. If I were you, I’d accept it while it lasts.”

“Why? Do you turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?”

“No. Just an arse.”

Maggie sighed through a chuckle. “Punch would be lovely, thank you.”

The smile stayed on her face as she watched Lord Oliver press through the crowd. He didn’t have to work too hard; the instant someone noticed him, they fell over themselves to give him room. What must that feel like, to have so much power? The duke wore it easily, as one did when they knew nothing else; nevertheless, behind his easy countenance and cutting quips, Maggie sensed something lonely inside of him, something almost mournful. And he wasn’t the kind of man who would ever tell anyone why, at least not her.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Maggie’s smile evaporated as she followed the voice to the man at her side. The man she’d been pretending not to watch all night. The man who—she was certain—had not been watching her.

Maggie told herself it was just Michael; however, being this close threatened to throw her off-kilter. His clothes were somber and still a smidge too tight around his arms and chest, and his hair had been styled back away off his forehead, leaving his face open and direct.

Maggie’s fan picked up speed.

Michael reminded her so much of Lord Oliver. But men carried themselves with poise, a self-assuredness that made them charge when others hesitated, but where the duke hid his feelings behind a composed, teasing veneer, Michael was more forthright. His emotions floated too close to the surface, and his disappointment was evident in his tone.

Maggie couldn’t let it bait her. Be serene. Be gracious. Don’t argue! She replaced her smile quickly. “Lady Ella encouraged me. She thought I would enjoy myself.”

Michael jutted his chin toward the refreshment room. “It certainly looks like you are.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Yes. Quite.”

Michael’s tone had lost some of its verve. Was her agreeableness really working?

“I didn’t know you were acquainted with the duke,” he said, almost too nonchalantly, as if he didn’t even care if she answered.

“For a man who’s said he knows me so well, you don’t seem to know much tonight.”

Michael humphed , and Maggie cursed herself. So much for agreeableness. But it was difficult, more difficult than she’d thought it would be. Acting this way felt so unnatural, like asking a kitten to fly.

But the thunder in his expression abated. “I suppose I don’t,” he replied softly. “I don’t mean to upset you. I just…” He glanced at his hands, and Maggie yearned to ask him to remove his gloves. Were his knuckles still bruised and broken? “I don’t mean to bother your fun ; I just came over to say I’m… You know, I’m sorry the way I left you the other night. I didn’t wish to… confuse things.”

Where had all the air gone in the room? Had someone sucked it all up? Maggie blinked. Confuse things ? Did he honestly believe she was upset and pining for him? Did he think she was some newly out, fresh-faced, na?ve chit who couldn’t control her attraction for him?

Maggie grabbed the reins inside her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of fixating on those words. She’d fixate on others.

“Left me?” Her question dripped with condescension.

Michael’s gaze latched on to hers, searching. “In Manchester, in your room.”

Maggie huffed. “Were you in my room?” She tapped her fingers against her chin. “Oh right, after I was overcome with the episode at the wedding.”

“You weren’t overcome. Your aunt—”

“My aunt asked you to carry me to my room. Thank you again, so kind. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”

“You would have walked,” Michael replied with bite. “You would have been fine.”

Maggie bobbed her shoulders. “If you say so.” The sentence landed with an audible thud. She scanned the room jovially, waiting for him to leave. Inside, well, she wasn’t nearly so placid.

When he continued to stand in front of her, Maggie returned a questioning smile.

Michael cleared his throat. “How… how have you been?”

She covered her laughter with her fan. “In the week since I last saw you? I’m fine, of course.” A swath of people scattered behind Michael and Maggie looked over his shoulder to see the fuss. Perfect timing. Lord Oliver returning with her punch. She made her voice cloyingly hopeful. “I’m better than fine, actually.”

Michael scowled, and a piece of hair fell over his face. “What the hell are you mooning at? How can you even see through all those feathers on your head?”

“What?” Maggie’s hand flew to her headpiece, and she stroked a feather as if to apologize for the ogre’s offending words. “You don’t like them? I thought they were rather nice. A little large, perhaps—”

“They’re much too large. You won’t need a carriage tonight. You’ll be able to fly home.”

Stay calm. Stay poised. Stay sweet. Maggie’s stomach churned from the effort. “They’re no longer than anyone else’s,” she replied, upset that she could hear the hurt in her voice. Why did he always have to be so honest with her? What was next? Another cruel name? “My aunt said I looked lovely. I suppose I’ll let her know that you disagree.”

“I didn’t say that—” Michael clapped his mouth shut as if afraid of what might come out. “I just… I’m not used to seeing…”

“Me looking lovely?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!”

Maggie threw up her hands. So much for poised and sweet . “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you upset.”

“I’m not upset,” he boomed, losing composure as swiftly as she had. “ You’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

Michael ignored her. “And you’re not being honest with yourself. You love making me upset, teasing me. It’s one of your greatest joys!”

Maggie searched for the duke over Michael’s shoulder once more. The man was walking incredibly slowly and stopping to chat to anyone who would listen. He was doing it for her, Maggie realized. Lord Oliver didn’t want to interrupt this moment. Little did he know it was swiftly morphing into a catastrophe. She had to contain herself. Stay sweet. Stay poised. Be the girl that every man wants.

It took effort, but Maggie managed another unbothered smile. “Maybe when I was a child, Lord Michael, but let me assure you that I’m not a child anymore. No more games.”

Michael scoffed, folding his arms in stark defiance. Why didn’t he believe she was gentle and tender, dammit!

“Even if I let you win?” he goaded her with a sly grin.

Maggie released a frustrated breath. “You’ve never let me win a day in your life. And you never will.”

“But that’s why you like me so much.”

“I don’t like you.”

He showed all his teeth. “Oh, yes you do.”

Where had her plan gone? What had Jo told her to do? Be nice and accommodating? Something like that? Maggie couldn’t remember anymore. Oh well.

He held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

Maggie’s voice was impossibly faint. “I’ve already danced.”

“With the wrong man.”

“Oh,” Maggie said, chuckling, “there’s nothing wrong with that man.”

“There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to tell you what’s wrong with that man.”

Lord Oliver was a few feet behind Michael now. Michael had to feel him. How could he not? And yet he refused to turn from her.

His deep, fathomless eyes bored into her. “He’s not a man who will stay. You know that, don’t you? He’ll leave you just like everyone else—” Shaking his head, he rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have—”

“Leave me like everyone else?” Maggie replied. “Is that what you shouldn’t have said?”

Michael’s jaw flexed.

Maggie stopped fanning herself, keeping her gaze sharp. “I’m not the lonely little girl I used to be, Michael. I think it’s best if you remember that when you speak to me.”

“I didn’t mean…” Michael fought to contain himself. “I just meant you deserve better. You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted by peacocking men.”

Maggie sniffed. “And here I thought I was the one wearing all the feathers.”

Michael let out a mirthless chuckle and reached up to touch a bright gold feather hanging over her ear. His smile was a little sad as he pinched it between his fingers. “You don’t need these to get him to look at you. All they do is disguise who you really are.”

Maggie could feel that invisible string again, the one that always appeared ready and willing to pull her toward him. Her words came out like a whisper. “And why do you think you know who I really am?”

Michael’s hand was still outstretched before Maggie, waiting for her to accept it. He broke into a sheepish smile. “Because I’ve always known. We were children together—”

“But we’re not children anymore, are we?” Maggie stared at his hand, willing herself not to take it. Something clicked inside her.

She turned her neck, moving the feathers out of his touch. He might have thought them ridiculous, but they served their purpose. They’d gotten his attention, and they’d reminded her of the part she was playing. Michael thought he knew her, but he was wrong. This Maggie, with the fiery dress and the fancy admirer, wasn’t her. This Maggie was meant to entice, to tempt, to win Society’s long game with the only cards that women were dealt.

Giving in now would ruin everything. Allowing Michael to hold her would only grant him the power she craved.

This was only the beginning.

Maggie lifted her chin. “I appreciate your concern, my lord, but I’m a grown woman and I get to decide whom I want to be, and whom I want to spend my evenings with. It was a pleasure speaking to you tonight. I hope you have a lovely time.”

The hand fell, but Michael remained. A reluctant smile forced its way past his scowl. “You never did like to back down from a challenge, did you?”

Maggie slid past him, reaching for the glass the duke offered. But before she left, she leaned into Michael’s side and whispered, “Oh, my lord, you have no idea.”