by Regina Darcy
It was with quiet discomfort that he saw the Countess glide seductively towards him across the ballroom. Douglas frowned at this outward display. At this rate she would have the gossip tongues wagging before the end of the night. Even at an event such as this, a modicum of discretion was required.
Her elaborate gown with its full skirt, no doubt the latest French style, emphasised her 15 inch waist. The front was cut as low as decency permitted – which was very low indeed. But it served to accentuate her creamy shoulders and her ample bosom. Her mask served only to highlight the curves of her perfect mouth. Where once he would have been mesmerised by the sight, he was instead slightly irritated. Before she reached him, he turned and walked to a nearby alcove. He had no doubt she would follow.
“Douglas,” Desdemona whispered.
“Good evening Countess, how nice to see you in good health,” he replied coldly. It was best to get these matters over with as swiftly as possible in his experience.
“Why so cold my love? Do you not remember the heat of my embrace,” she pouted, while placing her hand on his arm. He promptly disengaged it.
“Desdemona, darling, stop wearing your affections on your sleeves. It is unseemly,” Douglas said in a cold voice.
It finally dawned on the Countess that this was not a secret rendezvous. Annoyed, she wrinkled her perfect forehead.
“Why did you call me here?” the Duke continued.
“Do I need a reason? Do you not long for my company as I crave yours?” she responded, fanning herself.
“No, my lady I do not.” Their gaze locked and it was in that moment the Countess understood she was in the process of being cast aside.
“I take no joy in this conversation,” Douglas resumed. But before he could finish he was abruptly interrupted. The Countess closed her fan violently and looked at him with venom. “My dear Douglas, I will not be cast aside as last night’s stale pastry,” she said and then smiled sweetly.
Douglas sighed deeply, “Surely you did not expect this to last? I have warned you on numerous occasions not to mistake our dalliance for more than a momentary pastime.”
“You do mean to cast me aside,” Desdemona said in a disbelieving voice. “Who do you take me for?” Douglas now suspected that their goodbyes were going to be much more tiring than he anticipated.
“I know too well the look you are currently sporting. I had not imagined to be on the receiving end of your scorn,” Desdemona spat. “Mark my words, Your Grace, you will feel my wrath and regret your actions today,” she whispered venomously.
Before the matter got completely out of hand, a male voice called the Duke’s name from behind. “Your Grace! So this is where you have been hiding out all night.”
It was with huge relief he welcomed the sight of Lord Nathaniel Hughes, the Viscount of Wiltshire, his nearest and dearest friend. Despite his mask, Nathaniel’s stature and sky-blue eyes were so distinctive, his disguise was unnecessary. The Viscount was impeccably well-dressed. Not a chemise misaligned.
“Countess,” he greeted with a nod. Desdemona spared him not so much as a glance, but instead sailed regally back out to the ballroom.
The moment she was out of sight, Nathaniel’s face cracked a big smile and he clasped hands with his friend.
“Monty, good to see you,” he said with a smile.
“Hughes, I was almost afraid you would leave me standing here with that shrew for another two hours, whilst you busied yourself with your cravat,” his friend replied, with a knowing smile.
“Give it a rest Monty, I get enough of a grilling from the chaps at the club.” Nathaniel removed an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “Besides, I just saved you from what looked to be a very unpleasant exchange. Not to mention, I am only in this godforsaken countryside hole to lend you a hand.”
“That you are indeed.”
“Is he here?”
“Yes, he is currently occupied in the gaming room.”
“Let’s get to the matter at hand.”
Douglas turned around and started walking back to the main room when he stopped dead in his tracks. Despite her mask, the cascade of flaming hair from the beauty in the far room, beckoned him like a beacon. He looked in bemusement as the dainty little lady stomped her foot.
“Quite a beauty, old chap,” the Viscount whispered amused, “I wonder what has her so riled up?”
The beauty in question looked furious to say the least. Douglas watched intrigued as the man she was conversing with turned around and walked away. He could only assume this was her lover and he was witnessing an awkward end to their assignation. The woman was exceedingly young to be involved in such matters of the flesh. But based on the outwardly passion she exhibited, he could only imagine she was a hellion between the sheets. He smiled knowingly to himself as he watched her fan her heaving bosom.
“Monty, we do not have time for this,” Nathaniel warned in an exasperated voice, “we need to focus on this charade you dragged me to, not on some slip of a girl.”
“Not to worry Hughes, I will be with you shortly. Save a space for me at the whist table,” he replied with a distracted smile. Before the Viscount could reply, the Duke started making his way through the crowd; the woman and her ethereal beauty his sole focus.
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Regina Darcy
More Title By The Author
Regency LORDS Series
Book 1: Mesmerising the Duke
Book 2: Winning the Viscount heart
Book 3: Bewitching the Viscount
Regency TALES Series
Book 1: An Earl for the desperate bride