Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

O liver Hayward, Duke of Norfolk, bowed to his partner, Grace, from across the line. He could feel the stares from everyone in the room. This was decidedly a very dangerous idea to come here like this. He had appeared fashionably late, and had stayed in the shadows for a set watching Grace dance with other partners.

When she'd sat out for a set, he'd hoped to make his way to her, but she'd gone outside before he was able to reach her. He'd tried to follow after her, and had been swarmed by several women all begging for dances for their daughters. It was then that Oliver had gone out through the front door, and come around through an adjoining path to the back of the terrace. Not wanting to draw more attention to himself, he'd waited until the other couples on the balcony had left before he approached Grace.

He'd wanted to talk outside with her for longer, but she'd been cold, and the protective part of him that had saved her in the forest wanted to make sure that she was safe and inside again, not outside exposed to the elements.

As they twirled around for the first move of the dance, he supported her, only slightly lifting her off her toes, reminiscent of the way he'd done when they were dancing together in his hunting lodge.

Grace's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she smiled at him.

"I agree with you," he said.

"On what subject, pray tell?" she asked.

"You once said you were an excellent dancer."

"Did I? How boastful of me to admit it," she said, their easy rapport coming quickly with each step.

"Yes, at the time I thought it was very boastful."

"There you go, saying things too bluntly for proper society." She smiled at him playfully.

His heart skipped a beat. "Shouldn't you like to hear statements bluntly, even if it lacks tact? After all, I should think you would prefer truth over just flattering words."

"So you do not mean to flatter me?"

He spun her around, pulling her closer than was absolutely necessary. He lowered his voice. "Make no mistake about it, my dear Grace. I mean to flatter you, but it is not for the sake of flattery alone that I tell you the truth of the matter."

She swallowed, and a slight blush formed on her cheeks. " You always speak your mind, so I do not think that you flatter me insincerely."

"And you are an excellent dancer, I quite agree." He pulled her closer. "I had my suspicions when we first danced, but it was quite hard to tell with that ankle at the time."

Her cheeks colored. "I am glad you did not judge my skills earlier. After all, I could barely walk at the time."

"Perhaps it was all about having the right partner when you're dancing," he said, wondering if she would catch his full meaning.

She inhaled sharply. "Everyone is staring at us."

He shook his head. "I believe it is you everyone is looking at. You've captured the whole room without exception." Including himself.

"Do I have a chance at winning people over with my dancing skills, do you think?" She looked at him thoughtfully.

Did she mean him, or the duke? Or someone entirely different? Somehow the answer to the question was based more on which one she was thinking about in the moment. "I believe you will win over many," he said vaguely. "But excellent dancing requires an excellent partner."

They were apart for a few steps, but when they came back together and promenaded hand in hand, she whispered, "Are you staying in town?"

His chest tightened. "Why would you ask that?"

"Only that it is a very long way back to your house tonight, and without a carriage it seems most uncomfortable."

"You're worried for my safety? I am quite able to take care of myself."

She smiled and shook her head playfully. "Not your safety. But you have a beautiful horse. I would hate for Poseidon to get lost and spooked."

He smiled at her, enjoying the banter between them like he had when they'd been together in his hunting lodge. He found himself wanting to rise to the challenge with her around. He liked her fire and her drive for life. And he sensed in their conversation a deeper concern that she had for him. She didn't want him, or his horse, to be in a situation like she'd been in.

"I have a confession to make," he whispered, hoping no one around them caught their conversation. "I shall not be going back to … the cottage … as you call it, for quite some time."

She raised her eyebrows, interest sparking in her eyes. "And why is that?"

"Only that I have reasons to be in town more now than I did before."

"In London?"

"No. Here."

"And what reasons do you have for such a move?" she asked.

He searched her face, contemplating how bold he should be. According to her, he'd come a long way, so she didn't know. She hadn't made the connection. Part of him wanted to keep it that way, but he knew it was impossible. "I think you already know the answer to that. I have something I must confess to you," he said, not wanting to wait until a secluded moment at the end of the dance. He needed to tell her now, help her understand how this connection between them aligned with what she wanted, and what he needed.

"Ollie, I am flattered by your attentions. But you know my family situation …"

"You have your heart set on the duke." He set the stage perfectly for her to understand who he was, but she interrupted him before he could continue.

She wrinkled her brow. "Yes. No. I don't even know the man yet. But my family is depending on me. I cannot let them down, no matter how much—" She shook her head, not finishing the sentence.

The dance pulled them apart again, and when he was once again next to her, he said, "I understand familial duty. But, Grace—"

Pain filled Grace's eyes. "Perhaps we can finish this conversation after the dance," she said.

He nodded, aware of the many prying ears around him for the first time. They danced the rest of the set in silence, and though she smiled at him, there was something different in her eyes, a sadness that had not been there before. His own pulse raced at the sight. Soon enough he would be able to wipe the worried look from her eyes.

The dance ended, and he escorted her off the dance floor. He held onto her delicate hand with a firm grip, never wishing to let it go. Bowing over her hand, he placed a small kiss on the back of her gloved knuckles.

Grace smiled, but didn't make eye contact, only focused on his cravat while she whispered, "Thank you for the dance, Ollie."

"It was my pleasure. There is something which I wish to discuss with you," he said.

She bit her lip. "I do not think there is more we need to discuss about the matter."

"If you would let me explain—" he said. And then, without warning the entire room seemed to descend upon the corner where they stood.

"Your Grace, it is good to see you in town," a woman said, coming up to them.

"Will you be here long?" another gentleman asked.

Oliver stood a little taller, bowing to the people in front of him. "Thank you, Mrs. Williams. It is good to be in town. I shall be here until the start of the Season, and then I will remove to London, Lord Hampton."

"That is good to hear, Your Grace," Lord Hampton said.

He caught Grace's wide eyes as conversation filled the air around them. She mouthed "Your Grace," her eyes searching his. His heart sank and his gut clenched. She'd learned the truth about his identity before he'd been able to explain it to her personally. He should have gone back out onto the terrace to have a private conversation with her. He tried to extricate himself from the neighbors and townspeople who surrounded him. He was stuck, with no ability to exit the crowd.

More people pressed around them, asking him one question after another. He did his best to smile while giving answers, though he wanted nothing more than to dismiss the entire room and go back to talking with Grace as he had only a few moments before.