Time for a Duke (8 page)

Whrr.

Izzy inwardly groaned. How was she supposed to act interested in a boring, nose-whistling dance partner when all she wanted to do was be with Charles? She'd imagined their first dance together here at the ball, him holding her in his strong arms as they glided around the polished floor. Others would nod and smile at them, admiring how perfectly paired they were. It would have been her first actual dance outside of Charles' den.

Whrr.

She held back a pout at her dilemma and focused again on counting dance steps. No use making a further spectacle of herself than she already had. Her appearance here with Charles and her accent accomplished it by themselves. She had no wish to embarrass him further.

Whrr.

Oh bother, couldn't the man control his noisy nose? A glance to her left showed amused stares from other dancers, especially some of the women. Had they all at one time been subjected to Lord Whistler? She darted another glimpse around the room found Charles and his dance partner. Merciful Heavens, the poor girl he danced with resembled a buck-toothed canary. Charles had a fake smile plastered on his face making him look as if he'd swallowed something distasteful.

How had Izzy and Charles ended up apart, dancing with not only other partners, but also partners who happened to be so unpleasant? She sighed. It couldn't be helped now. Hopefully Charles would rescue her soon. Surely the dance music would end this month. How long could one song be?

Izzy let out a breath when the music ended.
Finally
. She glanced behind her to look for Charles then felt a tug on her hand. When she angled a glance back at her dance partner, she remembered her manners. Pasting what hopefully passed as a pleasant expression on her lips, she waited.

Lord Stanchbach bowed, planting a noisy slurpy kiss on her hand. Thank goodness for gloves.
Gross.
"Lady Isabella, it's been a pleasure dancing with you."

Izzy steeled herself for the untruthful remark she must make. "And what a pleasure for me as well, Lord Stanchbach." There. Now maybe she could escape the man and his magical singing nostril.

But the man wouldn't release her hand. "If I may, Lady Isabella, could I escort you to the refreshment ta—"

A hand grasped the lord's shoulder.
It
'
s Charles.
"Lord Stanchbach, I believe I heard your aunt calling for you. Way over there, across the room."

The man frowned, nodded, and released Izzy's hand. "Lady Isabella, perhaps another time?"

"Certainly, my lord." Izzy waited until Lord Stanchbach was out of earshot. She leaned closer to Charles and lowered her voice. "Oh, Charles, it was hideous. The man's nose—"

He held up a hand. "Trust me, Isabella, I know. When I saw what had happened to you, I felt horrible."

"It wasn't your fault. You were waylaid by that yellow canary."

"Lady Alberta. Actually her mother did the waylaying, but the end result was the same."

Music filtered to them from the orchestra. Soft strains surrounded them, causing Izzy's heartbeat to increase. Would it now be her turn to dance with Charles?

He held out his hands. "Lady Isabella, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"

"Your grace, it would be my honor."

As they walked toward the dance floor, Izzy noticed some of the women. They weren't just staring; they were also pointing and whispering. Then they were laughing.
At her
. Izzy stole a glance at Charles. Headed toward the middle of the floor, he didn't seem to notice what was happening. Were the other women jealous? Had some of them hoped Charles would have asked them to dance?

Izzy squared her shoulders and decided not to let it bother her. Dancing with Charles was the only thing she'd been looking forward to this night. She was determined to enjoy it.

She fit in Charles' arms as if she were made for him. As soon as they moved to the music, everything, everyone else faded away. Charles' face was all Izzy could see, his sweet whispered encouragement, all she could hear. Izzy now knew that Charles' lips were indeed as sweet to kiss. It was as if no other dancers shared the floor with them. They were two dancing as one, their heartbeats aligned with each other's.

Around and around, they glided and turned. Izzy had never felt so alive, never so… loved. Love? Was this the elusive emotion she'd longed for but thought would never be hers? She tilted her head, peering into Charles' dark eyes. In that moment, she thought she saw love there, for her, and only her. Feeling as if she could conquer the world, she felt laughter bubble up from her chest. Swaying and leaning against Charles, her life seemed now complete, as if the missing piece of her heart was now in place.

The music ended. Charles released her, except for her hand. He bowed, kissed her hand gently, and tilted his head toward the sitting area.

Izzy nodded. They didn't need words, it seemed, as they were so in tune with each other. How had this happened, that someone she'd known for two weeks held the key to her heart, the key to her future? She shook her head as they made their way from the dance floor. Her future? Her past? How confusing it all seemed, yet somehow, so right, so perfect. Charles glanced back toward her, the left side of his mouth rose, which formed his dimple. She loved that dimple. It did things to her, things she could only whisper in private to him, and would, given the chance.

Voices carried from the fall wall. At first, it was just background noise, then more insistent. She blocked it out, her only focus being Charles. But then… she heard her name.

"
Lady Isabella, indeed. I
'
ve never heard of her before. Have you?
"

"
Did you see how close they danced?
"

"
Quite a spectacle on the ballroom floor. They should be ashamed to act so in public.
"

"
No, Lady Isabella is new. Where his grace found her, I haven
'
t a clue.
But they seem a little too familiar.
"

"
Scandalous how they danced. Simply scandalous!
"

Izzy's face burned. It was surely red. Should she act like she hadn't heard them? A quick glance to her left told her everyone near had heard. What should she do? Had she and Charles danced inappropriately? She'd been so focused on him she hadn't paid attention to how they might have appeared to the
ton
.

Charles stopped walking and angled toward Izzy. Taking her hands in his, he said, "Lady Isabella, I think it is time to escort you home. Come, let us depart from this…
place
."

Gasps of horror zipped through the crowd.

"
Did you hear him?
"

"
How rude!
"

"
Such behavior from a duke. Dancing so close, then insulting the
ton
!
"

Izzy hurried behind Charles as he picked up his pace. The set of his shoulders showed tension. He was angry. Was it on her behalf? While she was flattered, she also felt as if she'd let him down. Embarrassment had rained down upon him and his reputation because of her. If they had been in her time, nothing they'd said or done would have caused a ripple of notice from anyone, here everything was scrutinized and dissected. While dancing with Charles, Izzy hadn't meant to be so close to him. It just seemed… right.

Charles led Izzy to the Kringles. After thanking them for their hospitality, their coats were fetched by the butler. Charles took her hand, leading her down the steps. They'd not spoken a word to each other since the dance. She knew he was angry. Was it directed at the
ton
or at her?

She swallowed hard. It had never been her intention to hurt him. Now, recognizing her feelings for him as being love, her heart felt it would break. Tears threatened to squeeze past her eyelids. Izzy kept the tears back by holding her eyes shut for a moment.

She stood outside the gate while Charles flagged down their driver. Until then, Izzy hadn't given a thought to where the driver had been. The poor man must have sat in the coach nearby just waiting for Charles' signal when they were ready to leave. As the carriage pulled up, Charles took her hand in his. He wouldn't make eye contact with her. Had she ruined any chance for them to be together now that she'd realized she loved him?

Charles helped Izzy climb into the carriage then followed her. He sat on the opposite seat, looking out the window at the bright starry night. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, but the words died on her tongue. What could she say? She'd ruined his chance of ever being comfortable with his friends again. Would he ever forgive her?

Just when she feared he wouldn't speak, he angled closer but kept his gaze on his knees. "Isabella, please forgive me."

"What?" Surely she hadn't heard him correctly.

"I've treated you unfairly."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"It was to be your special night. Your first ball."

"That doesn't matter to me. I did this for you." Izzy reached out a hand to him then pulled it back.

He raised his glance to her. "But—"

"The only reason we're here is so your uncle would leave you alone about finding a wife, remember?"

He shrugged. "I think I lost sight of the fact as we prepared for the ball. With the dancing, the plan of what we would tell the
ton
, it all seemed to—"

"Fall away?"

He nodded. "Yes. Exactly. So you're not angry?"

"I thought you would be. With
me
."

"Oh, Isabella. Not with you. Never with you."

He
'
s not upset with me!

"Then…" She lifted her hand, palm up.

Charles aimed his thumb toward the back of the carriage. "Those people back there. Close-minded and narrow-focused. They have no decency or compassion. If something or someone doesn't fit their tiny idea of propriety, they ridicule and point fingers."

Izzy frowned. "While I didn't like hearing them talk about us like they did, believe me, I've heard much worse."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "I wanted to remove you from the situation before it escalated. If we had stayed, they would have eventually pressured you, us, with so many pointed question and accusations, it would have been uncomfortable at best, and extremely hurtful otherwise. I've seen people, men and women alike, reduced to sobs from the venom the people of the
ton
can spew."

Izzy shook her head. "My word, how do you call them your friends if they're like that?"

"They are not my friends. Friends should be trustworthy, honest, kind."

Izzy felt the corners of her mouth lift. "Like you. You're all those things."

He took her hands in his and cleared his throat. "I thought, that is to say, I hoped…"

"You hoped what?"

He squeezed her hands gently. "That you and I were more than friends."

"You did?"
Can it be true?

He nodded. "And you?"

Izzy felt heat creep up her face, certain she was red from her chin to her forehead. Thankfully, Charles wouldn't be able to see her clearly in the darkness. As if using her last breath to utter the words, she whispered, "Yes, Charles, I feel the same."

As quick as lightning, Charles pulled her onto his lap, holding her in a tight, strong embrace. His lips claimed hers, devouring her with his want. This was no chaste kiss, as the one before the ball. This was pure male need. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. His breath, hot on her lips, warmed the rest of her body, though the air outside was frigid. In the darkness, she gasped as his fingers massaged beneath her collarbone. His hand drifted lower, pausing at the lace of her low neckline.

The carriage bounced and slowed. This time, Charles didn't release her as when they'd pulled up in front of the ball.

Izzy leaned away. "Charles, the driver…"

He pulled her close. "I've paid him well. He'll not speak of it."

She buried her face in his neck.

He whispered into her hair. "You're uncomfortable."

Izzy nodded.

"Come, then. Let's go inside."

He helped her down from the carriage, never letting his hand leave at least one part of her. She felt his warmth either on her back or shoulders the whole walk to the door. As they passed the driver, Izzy ducked her head. Maybe the driver wouldn't say anything, but he'd heard, and possibly even seen things. Private things.

Charles had Izzy wait on the porch until he made sure no one was in the lobby or den. They still needed to keep her hidden from view. She darted a glance up when the hinges of the door squeaked as he reopened it.

"It's safe. I see no one about." He stretched out his hand, inviting her in. "Let's get you to your room."

She giggled. "
My
room. It's not as if I'm—"

He leaned toward her, looking as if the weight of the universe bore down on him. "Staying? Oh, Isabella. I wish you were staying. We could—"

Izzy heard a shuffle from somewhere in the back of the house. She grabbed his arm. "What was that?"

He pivoted and stood motionless, listening. Something shuffled again. Charles took her hand again and gave her a slight tug. "Up the stairs, quickly. Someone is
coming
."

Holding her skirt above the steep steps with her other hand was difficult enough, but trying to run in it as well seemed downright dangerous. What if she got tangled up in all the folds of the hem and took a tumble? Then everyone would definitely know she was here. It would be hard to explain a strange woman lying at the foot of the stairs with two broken legs and her skirt hiked up over her head.

Izzy released a large gulp of air when they made it unscathed to the top. When she hurried toward her bedroom, she almost collided with Charles when he stopped to open the door. Polished floors could be deadly to a woman wearing slippers.