Sinful in Scarlet: The Brothers Duke: Book One
Page 8
It was working. Good Lord, it was working.
The spell only intensified as her feet touched the shining parquet of the ballroom. The hush of awe became a positive hubbub of exclamations, bows, compliments—the air filled with Miss Radcliffe, Dorothea Radcliffe, my goodness, is that an Anne Fletcher gown…
Dorothea smiled, curtseyed, spoke prettily. The happiness growing within her was so fragile, so delicate, that she didn’t want to disturb it by expressing desires beyond those that were already being met.
‘Miss Radcliffe? It is Miss Radcliffe, isn’t it?’ A pleasant-faced gentleman with faded blonde hair bowed low; Dorothea curtseyed, wondering where on earth she had seen him before. ‘It’s highly likely that you don’t remember me.’
‘Oh, goodness no!’ Completely accurate. ‘Of course I remember you.’
‘Thank goodness.’ The gentleman smiled. It was a nice smile, but somehow insipid. ‘Then Miss Radcliffe, the completely unforgettable Lord Walgrave would like to ask you for the next dance—the waltz that is about to—hey!’
His face darkened. Dorothea found herself being gently but firmly turned around, an unwilling but irrepressible smile growing on her lips.
There was nothing insipid about Thomas Duke. He was force and gentleness in equal, powerful measure. As he boldly took her hand, the delighted chatter of onlookers increasing to a fever-pitch, Dorothea knew her joy was evident on her face.
‘Please dance with me.’ The pain in his voice was difficult to listen to, but affirmed her own pain. Their encounter in London had been truly difficult, not a foolish misunderstanding of her own invention. ‘I know I don’t deserve it, but—’
There was no time to waste. As the music decisively began, other couples craning their necks as they took their places, Dorothea pulled Thomas into position as the rhythm of the waltz filled the room.
‘You stole a waltz.’ She looked at her hands in his, hardly daring to believe that it was real. Thomas, dancing with her in front of a crowd. ‘You–you stole it from Lord Walgrave. Not that I remembered who he was.’
‘Yes. Yes, I did. He was entirely too excited about it. All of them are.’
‘All of them?’
‘Every man in this bloody room.’
‘… Good.’ It did feel good. All of this felt good, as terrifying as it was to consider in the abstract. ‘And you?’
‘Don’t you dare put me in the same category as Lord Walgrave.’
‘Why? Are you not excited?’
‘Don’t tease me in the middle of a waltz.’
‘And why shouldn’t I?’
‘Because you’ll force me to carry you out of the room and find the nearest bedroom.’
If she didn’t have the courage to say it now, waltzing around a ballroom in a scarlet gown with fifty eyes upon her, she would probably never manage it. ‘You’ve already made the most shocking use of a curtain and a desk. Why would you need a bedroom?’
She had murmured it so quietly that no-one had heard but Thomas. The glint in his eyes and twist to his mouth was a more than just reward. But she could not, absolutely could not, allow herself to get caught up in the moment without demanding her richly deserved apology.
‘I’m so dreadfully sorry, Dorothea.’
Hmm. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to demand it. ‘I’m glad.’
‘I’ve been stupid. Deeply, piggishly stupid. I invented a narrative of our meeting and what it meant, and didn’t bother to tell you your part in it—I didn’t even ask you if you wanted to be a part of it.’ Thomas’s eyes were full of hurt, even as his steps were faultless. ‘I’m more sorry than you know.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And there’s no earthly need for you to be sorry at all.’
‘I know that. Of course I know that.’ Dorothea bit her lip, the happiness in her chest growing strong enough to drown out all other sentiments. ‘I’m sorry for other things.’
‘What things? Your every action in this—this beautiful chaos has been faultless. Without impediment. Always explainable to a fault.’
‘Yes. I do hope such an accurate assessment of my character continues.’ How gloriously strange it was to speak to him like this—laugh with him like this. As if the stretch of time without him had only prepared her further for this single, spectacular moment. ‘But I’m sorry for things besides that. The circumstances that ensured our growing apart—the length of time we spent without one another.’
‘And if I were to tell you that we need never spend another moment without each other?’
‘Oh, yes. That helps.’ Dorothea smiled, blinking away a sudden flash of happy tears. ‘Saying things like that will help tremendously.’
‘And if I told you that I loved you?’
‘I would have to say the usual things about not knowing one another well enough, and reminding you that my parents are now much less rich than they were. But I think you could persuade me to return your sentiments—I already share them, after all.’
Thomas’s relieved smile was wonderful. ‘And if I were to kiss you in the middle of this ballroom, scandalising all concerned?’
‘If I were the Dorothea I was two days ago, I would have run away. Or worse—I would have let you, and demanded nothing else.’ Dorothea laughed, stroking her finger over Thomas’s uplifted palm as the music gathered pace. ‘But now, as the woman who wears scarlet gowns, I have so many demands.’
‘Every kiss you demand, I’ll give a thousand times over.’
‘And marriage?’
‘A thousand marriages, each better than the last.’
‘And a curtain?’
‘A—a what?’
‘Find me a curtain, Thomas Duke.’ Dorothea murmured in his ear as her happiness overflowed, filling her with light. ‘Find me a curtain when this dance ends, and we’ll have all the kisses we missed.’
THE END
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