Chapter 23

23

His breath caught in his throat, Lucien watched Chastity walk through the ballroom. It was the grand final ball of the house party, and his last day of celibate torture.

But he could think of nothing except the one woman who would be forever beyond his reach.

The glittering crystals of chandeliers, the gilded mirrors and frames all faded compared to the woman maneuvering through the crowd of guests with ease and grace. The yellow-sapphire gown he had designed for her flowed over her skin like water. Light fabric moved with her body, caressing her legs and her waist before being gathered seductively below the bust which hugged her round bosom, revealing a delicious display. Her dark hair was in a high, elaborate chignon embellished with yellow flowers and crystals. Bright yellow sapphires ringed her neck.

His colors.

And—damnation—every man’s eyes were on her, while Lucien’s chest ached and sweat broke through on his forehead and a blood-chilling realization pounded through him.

He loved her.

Lucifer, he loved her.

Blasted Lord Wardrobe hurried towards her like a vulture, offering her a glass of punch. She smiled at him, so pretty and blushing.

Then her gaze locked with Lucien’s across the room, and his stomach dropped at the pain and disappointment he saw in her eyes. Hurting her was the last thing he had ever wanted, and yet hurt her he had. Again.

Lord Wardbury had told him to step away for her sake.

And he had.

He loved her, and he wanted her to be happy. She felt something for him, too, but she deserved to be with a better man.

But could Lucien be that better man for her? For the both of them?

He hadn’t slept with anyone for an entire month, after all. Despite his body’s urgent and constant need for release, which had only grown stronger, he had not succumbed to temptation. Tomorrow the house party would be over, and he will have won the bet.

Pryde was about to announce a start to the evening’s dancing. Lucien had to have the first dance. He just had to.

To hell with his reservations and common sense; to hell with all precautions.

He strode through the room towards her.

As he hurried to Chastity, maneuvering between ladies in silk and satin, and gentlemen in perfectly tailored coats, breeches, and high cravats, he couldn’t feel the floor under his boots. He ignored the stares, urgent whispers, and narrowed eyes. When he reached her, he could feel his pulse pounding in his palms as he clasped his hands behind his back and bowed to Chastity. Very rudely interrupting Lord Wardbury, he proclaimed, “Lady Chastity, will you please allow me the honor of your first dance?”

“I’m afraid I just asked Lady Chastity,” said Lord Wardbury coldly.

“I don’t care,” said Lucien, looking into the only eyes that mattered.

The sky-blue eyes of the woman he loved.

He had always loved her, came a clear thought. Through the days of their turbulent childhoods, and the moments where both of their hearts bled… From the wounds that people who were supposed to protect and care for them had inflicted on them… Through the shared moments of chasing after dogs, and swimming in the pond, and secretly watching the river of stars high in the sky, through hiding from their tutors, and learning to ride horses, and shooting arrows in the woods.

It had always been her.

She had always been a part of him—the best part.

He had allowed sin to take him over because it was his armor against hurt and heartache. But seeing her with other men, all these suitors he had pushed her towards, was worse.

“Will you dance with me, Lady Chastity?” he repeated the question.

She looked at Lord Wardbury. “Forgive me, Lord Wardbury, I will be right with you.”

Lord Wardbury’s eyes shone with displeasure, but always the perfect gentleman, he bowed, his mouth a stern straight line.

She placed her gloved hand in Lucien’s, and he never wanted to let her go.

He led her out to the center of the ballroom where the couples were already lined up for the dance.The first note was struck. It was a slow dance, a waltz. Forbidden and disapproved of by the old matrons; he could hear Lady Virtoux’s loud displeasure.

They came together, and he felt Chastity’s foot stomp on his, and chuckled.

“What is this, Lucien?” she asked coldly. “Why are you dancing with me?”

“Because I couldn’t not dance with you.”

“Do not play with me,” she said, her eyes gaining an undertone of steel.

“I do not intend to. Today is the last day of the house party. Everyone leaves for home tomorrow.”

“I am very well aware,” she spat as they whirled.

She felt so right in his arms, the smooth silk warm with the heat of her body. Oh, he remembered the satiny feel of her skin, her narrow waist under his palms.

“You must secure his proposal tonight,” he said. “Or I win.”

“Yes. Though I already got two proposals.”

He frowned as he looked into her face. A terrible chasm of loss tore through his stomach. “What?”

“Four days ago. And my brother approves of at least one of them.”

Lucien froze for a moment, forgot to lead her, and her foot pressed on his again. “Let me guess,” he spat out. “Audley and Harrington.”

“Your perception is uncanny,” she said.

Blast it all—no. He could tear his hair out of his head. This was his own doing! He’d pushed her into other men’s arms. He’d encouraged her to wear prettier gowns and tutored her to be a better conversationalist. He’d adored seeing her come out of her shell, gain confidence, turn to the sides of herself she had denied her entire life, and transform into this stunning woman who radiated beauty and grace.

The true star he’d always known she was.

But it was not for another to claim her hand!

“Congratulations,” he said. “However, the bet was about Lord Wardbury. He has not yet proposed, has he?”

“No. How can he when you’re stealing his dances and his time with me?”

Good. At least he was not too late.

Too late for what? chided another voice within him. Are you going to propose, too?

The thought was both tantalizing and terrifying.

“True.” He whirled her around, bathing in her gentle flowery scent, which he wanted to keep inhaling like air. “But tell me if you want him as much as you want me.”

She glared at him. “It’s not a question of want.”

“It is. Marriage is for life. How do you suppose to live with a man you don’t love?”

“And what makes you think I don’t love him?”

“Because, darling—deny it all you want—you love me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly’s wings, and her cheeks flushed.

Good. He was right.

“Tell me it’s not true,” he murmured as they came together.

He could feel her fingers through her yellow silk gloves, warm and delicate. Even through the fabric, her touch sent tingles through his body.

“That is irrelevant,” she said as she stepped away from him. “There can never be a future for us. You made it abundantly clear four days ago. I received the message, Duke, believe me.”

“I was a fool,” he said. “I—I haven’t stopped thinking of you this entire month. My entire life, Star. It’s just this past month it became clear to me that I can’t lose you.”

“You can’t lose what you never had.”

She came back into his arms, and he could now hold her close. His eyes were drawn to her soft lips, and he almost groaned with the need to kiss her.

“Never? You loved me once.”

“Until you broke my heart. And you are doing it again.”

“Perhaps I can change. I want to, Chastity. I…” He shuddered.

I love you.

Three simple words ached to be said, to break through the invisible but impenetrable armor he’d built around his heart.

And yet, his throat clenched.

“I want to change for you. I want to be the man who can commit and be worthy of you.”

She blinked and sighed, her breath light and sweet. “I would like that, too, Lucien.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. The question is, will you?”

Her words sank into him. Will you?

She was right. He had taken her bet, he’d done what he thought he could never do—stayed celibate for a month.He’d confided in her, told her his secrets, his darkest thoughts about himself. He hadn’t thought he could do any of those things. And yet, he was no longer the man who’d stepped out of the carriage on the first day of the house party.

“I—”

Could he really ask her to marry him? Did he have such strength?

He opened his mouth. The waltz came to an end, and he grunted in displeasure. He needed a few more minutes to think, to decide, to gather his resolve.

But she withdrew her hands from his, and his fingertips felt cold without her warm touch.

She stepped back into the line of ladies, and he into the line of gentlemen. He bowed while she curtsied, and the space between them seemed to grow. He ached to move, to cross the chasm, and claim her.

This dance was his only chance to talk to her; he couldn’t ask her for another dance without being her betrothed, as it would imply a scandal.

But it was too late anyway.

Lord Wardbury was already by Chastity’s side, and the glare he threw at Lucien was furious. He saw the longing gazes of Audley and Harrington.Then Lord Wardbury led her to another part of the room, while Lady Osborn came to him, hanging on to his arm.

Damnation. As he half heard Lady Osborn’s words, he watched Chastity smile at Wardbury. This was it.

He knew what he must do: lay bare his vulnerabilities and accept the possibility of heartache.

And yet, his body remained still, as though bound by invisible chains.

He would act, in but a moment. He would whisk her away from all of them.

He need only summon the courage to face his inner demons.