Vivian Roycroft by Mischief on Albemarle Read Free Book Online Page B

covers. The gentlemen would simply have to make do as they could, should they decide to join the gossiping.
    The blood rushed to Miss Beryl's face, brightening her complexion to the most amazing scarlet. Then she whitened to ivory, equally astonishing against her coppery curls.
    Her eyes never left his. And of course, his never, ever left hers.
    She hadn't realized what two dances with him meant.
    She did now.
    ****
    A duke, well, yes, of course; his presence in any assembly would grab everyone's attention and grip them until they burst out into the most wretched gossiping. Not on a long-odds bet would she glance toward the corner where Fitz cowered with his old Oxford chums. Nor would she look at anyone else. Although she had to admit, having so much attention in such a good manner was rather fun, underneath all her embarrassment.
    And of course, Lady de Lisle had an apoplexy. Granted, she was sufficiently discreet to keep it from spraying out her ears. But not by much.
    The only gaze she dared to meet was his.
    Those pale blue eyes pierced her, peered through her skin, through her anatomical bits and pieces, and devoured her soul, kept devouring her, as if she were some tasty tidbit he'd long promised himself and meant to savor to the last teensy crumb. He looked away for the introduction to Lady de Lisle, to greet Violetta and Lissie and arrange their dances, and when one of them spoke to him and it was his turn to reply. Otherwise, she commanded his attention.
    Oh, not in a bad way, not at all. After his first sweeping, entirely masculine and wholly appreciative glance over her form — an expected and proper response on his part — after that, his gaze never dropped to her daring gown nor even to her lips. As if — as if it was her , her own ordinary, silly little self, who attracted him. As if he didn't see her as an acceptable match, a reasonable dowry, a proper companion, or a suitable mother for his children.
    But as if he saw her as her . As Beryl.
    And as if Beryl was all he hungered for.
    A lovely heaviness started low in her belly, heated her core, and flowed out to the rest of her. Of course she'd felt it before and knew what it meant. But along with it flowed a new and fascinating sort of power, a light, floating feeling, calm and confident and serene. After all, to command the attention of a duke — and such a duke, such a man — was no small feat. She'd never felt this sensation with Fitz, had never known with such certainty that he was hers, even if only for an evening — only for two dances.
    It didn't matter. She felt it now. His Grace had looked at her that way, initiating her into the rôle of a woman with a man, and her world would never be the same again.
    The first notes of the lead violinist sang above the crowd's muttering.
    "My dances, I believe." His voice was low, soft, inviting. Impossible to overhear. He offered his arm.
    While they waited in the dance's line, he spoke of individuals within the crowd around them, Alicia Lethbridge, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, Deborah Kringle; he delighted her no end by not mentioning the insufferable George Anson, loitering near Deborah as if hoping to regain his former place at her side. His Grace's eyes slid aside briefly each time, as if pointing to the subject of his current poisonless chatter; then he always returned his attention to her, gave her again the full weight of his devouring stare.
    It was going to be a wonderful evening.
    ****
    Of course the blaggard proved to be a brilliant dancer, too. Rider, lover, to all reports marksman and whip and swordsman and musician and hunter and pistol shot; of course he had to excel at dancing, as well.
    Otherwise his own nightmare wouldn't be complete.
    And now it was.
    Fitz huddled with his champagne, behind Caird's oversized and be-tartaned shoulder, and wished he could just look away from the excruciating scene. Cumberland and Beryl whirled through the lines, joined hands across their bodies, right to right and