Page 7 of The Marquess Match (Love’s a Game #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

T he massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling cast a golden glow over Southbury’s ballroom, illuminating the swirling silks and satins of some of London’s finest as they glided across the polished floor. The scent of beeswax, expensive perfume, and the sharp tang of champagne filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of the orchestra.

Ash exhaled slowly, adjusting the cuffs of his pristine ivory shirt beneath the midnight-blue velvet of his overcoat. His waistcoat, a shade lighter, was embroidered with silver thread, subtle but decadent, paired with an immaculate snowy-white cravat fastened by a sapphire pin. He looked every inch the marquess his sister so desperately wished he would behave like.

Unfortunately for Meredith, tonight was not going to be one of those nights.

She had threatened him—actually threatened him—if he didn’t choose a lady to dance with, she would trot one over and foist her upon him.

The problem was every eligible debutante she had hand-selected for his consideration and invited to this blasted house party had turned out to be a complete bore.

Simpering, shallow, utterly predictable.

They echoed back his own thoughts as if they had none of their own, their conversation limited to their latest gowns, the next ball, and which gentleman had the most agreeable prospects. Most annoying, however, was their tendency to stare at him as if he were a prized pig. He found few things as unattractive as desperation, and he could smell the desperation on every single one of the ladies Meredith had invited.

Was this truly the best selection Meredith could find?

If so, he would remain single indefinitely, thank you very much.

“What about Lady Julia? She’s sweet,” Meredith had pleaded earlier, right before the threatening had commenced.

“Sweet? Sweet is a word reserved for pastries and children. I’m not looking for sweet.”

Far from it, if he was looking for anyone, she would be quite the opposite. Someone intriguing, daring, unforgettable. Someone like…Clare.

After their kiss last night, he’d been unable to stop thinking about her, actually.

His sister might not believe it, but he did intend to ask a lady to dance tonight.

One Lady Clare Handleton.

And the devil take the consequences.

Oh, it would cause talk. He could practically hear the whispers already. Lady Clare— Scandalton —had likely not been asked to dance since her debut year. And yet, here he was, prepared to make a spectacle of the entire evening.

He had every intention of setting the ton ’s tongues wagging tonight. And he could not recall the last time he’d been looking forward to something so much.

He’d made the decision last night. There had been something about the way Clare had said the words so casually. “ I’m not expecting you to ask me to dance in a ballroom full of people. I’m only asking you to kiss me once, here, where only the two of us will know .” Those words were burned into his mind. He couldn’t forget them. Clare had been relegated to the shadows for so long that she no longer thought herself worthy of regard. She assumed no decent man would ever be so bold as to ask her to dance. And Ash intended to do something about it. Immediately.

Of course, their kiss had left a lasting impression on him too, one he didn’t dare dwell upon for long lest his breeches become too tight. Not quite a decent state of affairs for a ballroom in his sister’s house. But regardless of his indecent thoughts about Lady Clare, he intended to ask her to dance. He could only hope she would accept the invitation.

His gaze scanned the room until— there .

Across the ballroom, near a cluster of dowagers and wallflowers, stood Clare.

She was dressed in a gown the color of flames at sunset, rich and deep, catching the candlelight in molten waves as she shifted. The cut of the gown hugged her curves, the daring dip of the neckline offset by the elegant sweep of her shoulders. Her golden hair was pinned in a deceptively careless chignon, a few errant curls trailing down the nape of her neck in a way that made his fingers twitch with the sudden, overwhelming urge to touch them.

She took his breath away.

Ash ignored the longing stares of the debutantes, including Lady Julia, and the sharp, assessing gaze of his sister, and strode across the ballroom directly toward Clare.

Her back was to him as she spoke to Gemma, seemingly unaware of the ripple of awareness sweeping across the room. The moment he stopped behind her, the conversation halted.

She turned, her expression unreadable—until her dark eyes met his.

A flicker of surprise. Suspicion. Amusement.

And then wariness.

“Lady Clare,” Ash said smoothly, bowing slightly. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?”

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

Clare blinked, glancing around as if expecting someone to correct him.

“Me?” She pointed at her middle.

He arched a brow. “I see no other Lady Clare in attendance.”

She hesitated. Just for a moment. Then—slowly, deliberately—she placed her gloved hand in his.

“Yes,” she said simply.

The orchestra struck the first notes of a waltz.

Perfect timing.

Ash curled his fingers around hers, relishing the way she fit so neatly against him as he led her onto the dance floor.

The moment their hands met, the room shifted.

Everyone was watching.

Clare felt it—he could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, the way her gaze darted briefly to the gathered onlookers.

Let them watch .

“Strange,” Ash mused, his voice low as he guided her effortlessly through the first turn. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look nervous before.”

Her spine straightened instantly. “I am not nervous.”

He bit back a smile. There was her spirit again. “Good. I’d hate to think I was intimidating you.”

She scoffed. “You? Never.”

This time, he did smile.

They moved in perfect synchrony, as if they had danced together a hundred times before. As he spun around, he caught his sister’s gaze on the sidelines and gave her a very smug smile. Meredith’s mouth was gaping open. He blinked at her innocently.

“Thank you for dancing with me,” he said to Clare.

Her grip tightened on his shoulder. “Thank you for asking. I do hope you realize how much gossip we’re causing.”

“Better to be the cause of gossip than the gossiper,” he said, grinning down at her.

Clare smiled and shook her head. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone with less regard for what others think of them.” She paused for a beat. “Besides myself, that is.”

Ash threw back his head and laughed. “Then we are clearly a well-matched pair.”

“Don’t look now, but Lady Julia Fairbanks’s glare may burn a hole in your coat.”

Ash sighed. “Ah, that is the second time Lady Julia’s name has been mentioned to me today, and I can’t say I care any more now than I did the first time I heard it.”

“She’s considered the catch of the Season,” Clare informed him.

“Good for her.” Ash’s smile was droll.

Clare slapped his shoulder and gave him a fake-stern stare. “Your sister went to great lengths to bring these ladies here. The least you could do is pretend to be interested.”

“Never.” His stare penetrated her. “When I am truly interested, a lady knows it.”

Clare glanced away. Her throat worked as she swallowed.

“So,” he murmured, bending slightly to whisper in her ear, “am I to expect you in the study again tonight?”

She lifted her chin, lips curving up. “I did not think we had an appointment, my lord.”

His grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly. Oh, she was an intriguing one, to be sure. “We don’t. Yet. I’m asking you now.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement…and curiosity. “Don’t you think that dangerous?”

“Oh, I know it’s dangerous. But I was under the distinct impression that you and I aren’t dissuaded by danger.”

She gave him a reluctant smile. “I do not like to tempt fate.”

He allowed a hint of skepticism to touch his lips. “Don’t you?”

Clare’s observant eyes darted about the enormous room. “We’re already causing gossip. We’re certain to be watched more closely after this.”

Ash blew out a frustrated breath. He lowered his voice to a sultry whisper. “So that’s it? One kiss? That’s all you wanted from me?”

One of her elegant brows shot up. “Oh, now. I never said that.”