AS Minerva traveled in the coach with Grace and Lovingdon—he’d been good enough to provide her with transportation this evening—she didn’t think she’d been filled with this much anticipation when she attended her first ball. She was wearing her favorite white gown, elaborate pink silk roses stitched along the front that trailed down just past her hips to end at the short train. A layer of ruffles added a bit more elegance. Her hair was swept up off her neck, held up with strategically placed silk roses that matched those adorning her gown. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she’d brought an extra pair of slippers. Not that two dances would wear out the soles of the ones she was presently wearing, but if she began her evening with Ashe’s attention, she might find herself dancing a bit more than usual.
Not that she wanted to dance with anyone else. If it wouldn’t send a hundred tongues wagging, she’d dance every dance with him.
They said absence made the heart grow fonder. How much she’d missed him surprised her, had her considering the merits of marrying him. He was a duke, his lineage respected, his estates flourishing from what she’d been able to gather from her closest friends. He’d never once mentioned her dowry or his need for it. He traveled, he had adequate staff, he moved into another residence without much ado. He dressed well, his clothing the latest fashion, finely stitched by the best tailors. Not a single thread frayed or worn.
He didn’t need her dowry. He wanted her. He didn’t mind that she spoke her mind. Seemed to enjoy it actually. He made her smile and laugh and be glad that he was about. And the passion that flared between them—she missed it as well.
“You look particularly lovely this evening, Minerva,” Grace said.
“Thank you.”
“There’s not a particular reason is there? A certain gentleman you’re hoping to impress?”
She couldn’t stop her smile from spreading across her face. “Maybe.”
“I’d advise you to avoid going into the garden with him,” Lovingdon said with a voice that brooked no disobedience, that signaled he was a man accustomed to giving orders.
“I’d advise you to mind your own business.”
“Minerva, you are playing a very dangerous game.”
She released a heavy sigh. “What is the very worst that could happen?”
“He could leave you with child.”
His words were a blow, as though he knew exactly how far she had gone with this man. “I don’t know why you think so ill of him.”
“I saw him kiss you the morning he was taking your photograph in my garden.”
“You had no right to spy, but be that as it may, are you telling me you never kissed Grace before you married?”
“What I did with Grace has no bearing on this matter.”
“Why can’t he want me for me?”
“I’m not saying he can’t. Just be wise about it.”
That was one of the problems with having a brother who had possessed a scandalous reputation before he settled into marriage. “I’m not a fool, Lovingdon, and I know that there is absolutely no reason for him to want me, to give attention—”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that he seems to be moving very quickly.”
“Which I’m grateful for as I’m aging quickly.” She bit her lower lip. “Trust me, dear brother, I do keep questioning. As it makes no sense whatsoever. He could have anyone. Why me? Is he in debt?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” Her brother knew a great deal about a great many lords. “I can ask around if you like.”
“No. I’m enjoying his attention. I won’t do anything stupid.” Although he would no doubt claim that she already had if he knew about her trips to the Nightingale.
“I think he’s giving you attention because he’s a smart man,” Grace said. “And because he’s enamored.”
“You are a loyal friend, Grace,” Minerva assured her.
“It’s not that. I watched him the other night. Watched him watching you. In his eyes, I saw admiration, affection, warmth—anytime he looked at you. He paid little attention to the cards you were striving to share with him. All his focus was on you. I think he cares for you. I think that’s why you have garnered his interest.”
“But why this Season? It’s not as though either of us has suddenly burst into the ballrooms. He’s been in them for as long as I have.”
“It has been my experience that when one faces death, one comes away from the encounter with not only a greater appreciation of life but an understanding that it’s incredibly precarious. Perhaps that lion’s pouncing on him made him realize it was time to put his affairs in order and settle down.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“You enjoy his company, so simply bask in his attentions and be happy.”
“I suppose I do seek out too many answers.”
“Having been in your position of fending off fortune hunters, I know we tend to be suspicious, but when all is said and done, I believe we should trust our instincts. And how he makes us feel.”
She smiled. “He makes me feel treasured.”
“There you are then.”
Grace made it sound so simple, so uncomplicated. Perhaps she had the right of it, and Minerva should simply embrace the moment and, if opportunity arose, embrace Ashe as well.
HE would have preferred not to have three women fluttering their fans in his face or whispering to him behind their hand when he first caught sight of Minerva, but he’d been fending off advances for the better part of half an hour now, and it was growing wearisome. He shouldn’t have arrived as early as he had, but he wanted to ensure she didn’t have too much time to capture anyone else’s attention.
She looked ravishing tonight in her white and silk. He thought of her on other nights in white and silk. She didn’t need the pink roses for embellishment. The sleekness of her lines enhanced the gown all on their own.
The broad smile she’s been wearing when she first walked in dimmed a little when she saw him. He should have made excuses to this trio sooner. “If you ladies will excuse me . . .”
“You haven’t signed our cards,” Lady Honoria said.
“I’m afraid I’ve already reserved my dances for the night.” Turning, he searched the crowd for dark auburn hair and pink roses. Finally, he spotted her on the dance floor performing a quadrille. Her partner . . . Edward. He stifled a groan. Hopefully, the man was merely serving to keep other would-be suitors away, but if his sister-by-marriage really was advocating that Grey give him less of an allowance, then he might have decided to go into the hunt for a dowry. Edward wouldn’t settle for a pittance. Of them all, Edward was the spendthrift, the one who found pleasure in simply handing over money.
Moving to the edge of the dance floor, Ashe let his irritation float away as he watched Minerva, the grace of her movements, the sparkle in her eyes. He didn’t resent that she was enjoying herself. He merely wished she was with him.
He hated that he needed money. He hated that she had so much. Always his debt and her dowry would be between them. Even if she never learned of his financial situation, he would know. The trick was not to let it matter. But studying her, he feared it would matter a great deal.
The song ended, and the couples began to scatter, Edward leading Minerva off the floor to a distant side. Ashe began wending his way around people, trying not to get sucked into conversations. The next dance was a waltz. He intended to have her in his arms the moment that the first chord was struck.
IN spite of the concentration that the quadrille took, Minerva had been very much aware of Ashe’s gaze on her for a good part of it. She didn’t know why she’d thought he’d be standing off to the side like some wilting wallflower waiting for her to arrive. He’d always attracted the ladies, probably always would.
As Edward escorted her from the dance floor, she had to admit that she’d enjoyed his company, in spite of his irreverent comments regarding what some of the ladies were wearing. Or perhaps because of the comments. He didn’t seem to take himself seriously, and yet she sensed that he was a man within whom still waters ran deep.
“Thank you for the dance,” he said, delivering her to an area where girls were lined up as though they were on a bidding block. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss against her knuckles. His eyes shifted slightly, and the humor reflected in them deepened. “Ashe.”
Minerva spun around, not able to go nearly as far as she’d have liked because Edward still had hold of her hand and seemed determined not to release it. She gave it a little shake to gain her freedom, then smiled at Ashe. “Your Grace.”
“Miss Dodger. I believe the upcoming waltz is mine.”
It absolutely, most assuredly was.
“I enjoyed the dance, Miss Dodger,” Edward said as though he hadn’t already thanked her or was trying to convey some message to Ashe.
“Thank you, sir.”
Then Ashe was taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor. They were positioned before the first tinkling of music reached across the salon.
“Why were you dancing with him?” Ashe asked as he swept her into the circle of dancers.
“He asked.” She furrowed her brow. “He is more family to you than friend. Why are you upset?”
“Because I know him, and he’s always up to no good.”
“Are you jealous?”
He scowled, and she thought a lesser woman would be intimidated, might even swoon. She couldn’t stop her smile from spreading. “I’ve never had a man be jealous where I was concerned. I’m very flattered.”
“I don’t like seeing you with other men.”
“And yet I’m forced to see you with other women.”
He groaned. “I wasn’t enjoying their company. I was simply being a pleasing guest.”
“Are you dancing with them?”
“No. Tonight I shall dance only with you.”
Pleasure sluiced through her. He always knew the right thing to say to bring gladness to her heart. “Well, then, I suppose I can forgive you.”
She so enjoyed being with him. She enjoyed the way he held her gaze, not looking around as other men had done. The way his eyes glinted with pleasure as though he found it pleasing to have her in his arms. The way he held her firmly and a little too closely to be entirely proper. The way he made her not care.
All too soon, the music faded and they were left standing in the middle of the dance floor.
“Take a turn about the garden with me,” he said, not so much request as command, and maybe with a little desperation as though he couldn’t bear the thought of not having another minute in her company.
With a small nod, she wrapped her fingers around the crook of his elbow. As he escorted her from the ballroom, she realized she’d never anticipated a visit to the garden with quite so much excitement. It was a little frightening to acknowledge that she would go anywhere he asked, to let him have such power over her when she’d never allowed any other man to have it. Yet he never made her feel as though she were not in control. With him, she had a sense of equality that she had never experienced with anyone outside of her family and closest of friends.
They stepped out onto the terrace where other couples were already mingling. The drone of their whispers reminded her of the Nightingale. Was what happened out here so very different? People striving to take their flirtation to a level that required shadows. Striving for the appearance of all being proper when she suspected—knew now—that a good deal of it wasn’t proper. That some ladies were fortunate enough to be courted by a gentleman who wanted to do improper things with them.
Before Ashe, she’d not been that fortunate. Her walks with gentlemen had been more about exercising her legs rather than exercising her fantasies.
“Claybourne doesn’t have a pond,” she said, as they took the steps down to a dimly lit path.
“Pity. But we’ll make do.” His free hand covered hers where it rested on his arm. Glove to glove when she longed for skin to skin. Before him, there had been no gentleman who made her wish that gloves had never been invented.
“Is there some gentleman who will be disappointed not to find you in the ballroom?” he asked.
“Langdon, but he’ll make do.”
“As close as you are, I’m surprised he didn’t court you.”
“One does not court one’s sister.”
“You’re not related.”
“Not by blood, but I’ve always thought of him as a brother. I assume he viewed me as a sister.”
“Fortunate for me then.”
She laughed. “As though the Duke of Ashebury could have competition among the mortals.”
The gas lamps provided enough light for her to see his brow furrow. “What do you mean by that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. From a distance, I always thought you rather godlike. You’re handsome as the devil, have a smile that melts women’s hearts, can act as improperly as you like, and are forgiven by Society in a trice.”
His gaze on her intensified. “I’d like to act improperly with you.” He glanced back over his shoulder.
“He’s not there.”
He looked at her. “Lovingdon,” she clarified, knowing precisely who he was searching for. She’d never before been so in tune with someone else. It was a marvelous feeling to know what someone else was thinking. “I told him if he traipsed after us tonight, I’d bring him to his knees.”
“I’m disappointed he’s not there then. I should have liked to have seen you do that.”
Before she could think of anything to say, he took her hand and tugged her off the lit path through a break in the hedgerows and farther back, where there wasn’t any light at all. He spun her, and she was aware of her spine meeting the brick wall that enclosed Claybourne’s gardens. Warm hands were suddenly cradling her face, and she had half a heartbeat to wonder when he’d removed his gloves before his mouth unerringly blanketed hers, and his tongue swept through it to claim and conquer. She didn’t bother to subdue her sigh of pleasure as she scraped her fingers through his scalp, holding him near, her tongue parrying with his. She’d missed the taste of him, the feel of him. He was pressed against her, and she couldn’t miss the presence of the hard bulge against her belly. He wanted her, desired her, and she regretted that they weren’t at the Nightingale, so he could possess her completely.
“Damnation, but I want you,” he rasped, taking her earlobe between his teeth, sending shivers of delight coursing along her nerve endings.
Then let’s quit this place, she almost said. Lady V could have said that, and he’d have taken her away without a moment’s hesitation. But Minerva Dodger had a reputation to protect, a father and brother who would not see her ruined.
“You drive me to distraction,” he said as he trailed his mouth along her throat, lower, along the gentle swells of her breasts. “I want to taste, suckle, kiss every inch of you.”
She gasped a sharp intake of breath as he cradled her breast, his thumb toying with her taut nipple. Heat swirled, consumed. She knew where all these sensations could lead, and her body strained toward him, wanting to take the journey he offered. With her hand behind his head, she brought him in close, nuzzled her nose against the soft skin below his jaw, inhaled the fragrance of him, heated with his own desires, his need for her.
It was a heady feeling to be this wanted.
She became aware of his hand traveling along her leg, her skirts rising, his low groan as his fingers slipped through her curls to her dew-moistened core. He growled low. “You’re so ready for me. I would give my soul to possess you fully.”
Do it, do it, do it, her mind screamed, but the lady she was supposed to be kept her lips sealed tightly. What would he think of a woman who opened herself up to him completely in a garden where anyone could stumble across them?
She was certain they weren’t the only ones seeking out shadows for an illicit few moments, but she relished the fact that he was here with her now, that he was doing things he ought not to be doing, that even though she was fully clothed, he could make her body sing.
His hand cupped her intimately, his fingers stroked and teased, his mouth covered hers just as she began writhing against him, as sensations coursed through her, building to a crescendo—
She clutched him, holding on tightly as he ravished and plundered, as her body surrendered and shattered. With his mouth, he captured her scream, while his fingers gentled their movements, and his other arm snaked around her waist, holding her firmly against him, so her weakened knees didn’t carry her to the ground. She clung to his shoulders, clung to him, trembling with the almost violent release.
How she longed to feel the weight of him buried inside her.
His mouth left hers, and he pressed his hot, damp lips to her temple. “Spare me this interminable torment. Marry me, Minerva. We can have this every night, every afternoon, every morning,” he said, his voice rough, low.
Breathing rapidly, she leaned back slightly, trying to see him more clearly, but they were lost in the darkness. Still, she could feel his gaze homing in on her.
“I could speak to your father tomorrow evening,” he said. “If you’re agreeable.”
A bubble of laughter escaped before she could stop it. She pressed her fingers to her mouth as joy spiraled through her. “You keep talking of marriage, but I find it difficult to believe that you truly want me for an eternity.”
“I shall spend the remainder of my life demonstrating that I do.” He cupped her cheek. “You complete me.”
She wanted to believe him. He’d given her no reason not to.
“I’m not like the others,” he said quietly.
Pressing her face to his chest, she welcomed his arms coming around her, holding her near. No, he wasn’t like the others. He’d never been. The fault was with her. She who was so confident in all matters save this one. He might not say that he loved her, but surely he did. Otherwise, he would have walked away long ago.
“Yes,” she whispered nodding. Tilting her head back, she met his gaze. “Yes,” she said more loudly. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
He slashed his mouth over hers. She felt the joy cascading through him, through her. He wanted her. She was lovable. She was going to have her own happily-ever-after.