Chapter 14

CHAPTER14

"Istill think this is a bad idea, Amy."

Amy fluttered her fan coquettishly and smiled at her best friend through the lace trim. "I do not see how it is such a bad idea..."

"Honestly, if you cannot—never mind." Esther promptly shut her mouth in frustration which only made Amy laugh.

It had been such a long time since she had last dressed herself so alluringly that she had forgotten just how easy it was to change the minds of people simply by changing one’s own clothes and accessories.

For tonight’s ball, she had dispensed with her usual sensible gowns and chosen one that emphasized her clear skin—and the generous swells of her bosom. Her dark hair had been gathered into a mass of loosely tousled curls that made her look as if she had just casually rolled out of bed after a night of...exertion.

Her own Aunt Dorothy had been quite surprised when Amy emerged from her rooms in such an attire. She even had the distinct feeling that her own father meant to order her back for a change of clothes if they were not already running late as it was.

As for the rest of the ballroom, they had fallen into a palpable hush the moment she arrived before buzzing about like a swarm of bees. Fans started to flutter as she walked past the groups of ladies, and the gentlemen’s eyes followed her every movement.

But there was one other whose reaction she most longed to see tonight. As subtly as she could, she craned her neck over the crush in the ballroom, searching out his familiar face...

"I sincerely hope that it is I you are looking for, My Lady."

Amy felt her heart skip a few beats in her chest, and her fan trembled in her grasp before tumbling down to the floor. Her gaze snagged upon a pair of blue eyes that had somehow grown darker.

The ballroom fell quiet, looking on, as the Duke of Leonbridge slowly stooped down to pick up her fan, his gaze never breaking away from hers.

His lips curled into a smile as he handed her fan back to her. "Lady Amy, your first dance tonight is mine."

Her lips crooked into a smile mirroring his own. "Is that a question, Your Grace?"

"Not when I already know your answer."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile deepened. "Of course, you do."

Without looking back, she handed her fan over to her aunt and allowed the Duke to escort her into the middle of the dance floor. Enraptured by the striking picture they made, the crowd parted to make a path for them—something that Amy had never before experienced in her several Seasons.

This must be the power of a duke of the realm, she surmised. Or maybe they are all simply dumbfounded by my transformation? How shallow these people truly are!

"You look very different tonight, My Lady," the Duke remarked softly as they began to move to the music.

Amy laughed a little at that. "Were you perhaps expecting me to wear the flowers you last sent me?"

He smiled. "I must admit, yes."

"I have already pressed them into a book to preserve them," she quipped, looking quite sorry for it as well.

"You do not need flowers when you only put them in the shade," he told her, "as you have done every poor woman in this ballroom."

What a charming tongue you possess!Amy wanted to laugh out loud.

No doubt about it, there were a lot who would want to wring her neck not only for her sudden transformation but also for monopolizing His Grace’s attention as well.

However, they were hardly of any importance to Amy, for after tonight, if all went according to plan, the Duke of Leonbridge would hardly cast a glance upon her for the rest of the Season. Maybe, he might even choose to conveniently forget this little interlude between them.

For some reason, that made her heart ache, but Amy steeled her resolve. She had to do this. She had to do everything in her power so that the freedom she so craved might finally be in her grasp.

All it took was a little more boldness than she usually applied to herself.

"You truly think so?" she smiled coquettishly up at him. "Does Your Grace truly think me beautiful?"

"You know the answer to that quite well."

"No," she quipped playfully. "I truly do not. After all, I have spent Seasons being shunned." Which is all my fault, anyway.

"Ladies have never regarded me as their competition." Because I never wanted to compete for a man’s attention.

"And gentlemen have never considered me a viable option for matrimony." As I have never considered ever being bound to a man through marriage.

The Duke of Leonbridge only smiled at her words. "Then, I consider myself rather fortunate that the rest of the world is composed of fools, and I am the only one discerning enough to appreciate your brilliance."

"Some would say that you might have lost your wits."

"Only when I am around you, My Lady."

Amy had never enjoyed a conversation on the dance floor as much as she did with His Grace tonight. He was exceedingly charming and exceptionally witty. Although he might have plied her with platitudes that most gentlemen applied to young ladies who did not know better, it did not make her feel as if he looked down on her intelligence or that he was mocking her.

In fact, he almost seemed quite... sincere.

A most dangerous thing, she thought.

As the music ended and he led her back to where her Aunt Dorothy and Esther were, she noticed that his hand seemed to be holding hers tighter than usual—and more than was deemed appropriate.

And when they reached the other ladies, he did not even let go of her.

"Your Grace," she reminded him gently, "the dance is over."

He muttered something under his breath that she did not catch, and she frowned when she saw his dark brows snapping together. Had he found something offensive?

If so, she might not even have to implement the next part of her plan for tonight...

"Ah! Lady Amy Clarke, it has been such a long time... I almost thought you had disappeared into oblivion!"

Amy stiffened at the sound of that familiar voice. Mechanically, she turned around and saw a beautifully dressed pair before her. The gentleman was tall, with a wiry build and a neatly trimmed mustache, while the lady on his arm was petite and voluptuous with a head of glorious golden curls. Both of them sneered at her.

Oh no... not them. Anyone but them...

It was the man she had been previously engaged to—Lord Andrew Clarence—and his wife, Helena.

* * *

Evan frowned darkly at the sight of Lord Clarence and his new wife. He did not like the way the pair of them seemed to look down on Lady Amy.

In particular, he did not like the way Lord Clarence’s eyes slowly dipped into Lady Amy’s décolletage as if she was his possession.

Every dark instinct that he had suppressed since he was young reared its ugly head, and it took all of his immense fortitude to keep himself from slamming his fist into that smug bastard’s face. He did not know how the pair could address Lady Amy with such familiarity, but it was quite clear to him that she did not appreciate their presence at all, and that was enough for him.

"If Lady Amy disappeared into oblivion, then that would be my fault," he smoothly interjected with a wry smile. "After all, when a man finds a treasure, the last thing he wants is for others to covet it."

It was a less than subtle warning to the man to keep his gaze where it was appropriate.

Lord Clarence, apparently, had failed to notice that the man standing next to Lady Amy was Evan himself, and his surprise was written clearly across his face. Not so much as that of his wife, however, who seemed to fall upon herself at the mere sight of Evan.

"Your Grace," Lord Clarence acknowledged him stiffly, "I did not see you there."

"Clearly, because there is something wrong with your eyesight."

Yes, Evan was not interested in playing nice tonight. He had had to bear with the male half of the ballroom looking at Lady Amy as if she was a delicious feast for their eyes while resisting the urge to gouge them all out with his bare hands.

It was not that he disliked what she wore—rather, he liked it very much. It was the unabashed appreciation of her physical assets by rakes and imbeciles alike that irritated him so much.

"Your Grace," Amy smiled gently up at him. That one smile alone was enough to calm the roiling anger within him. "It does not—"

"Are you insulting me, Your Grace?"

Unfortunately, there were those who did not appreciate the grace that was given to them. Lord Clarence was of that brand of ingrate, and Evan briefly considered decking the man right there in the ballroom when he felt the gentle, almost desperate squeeze on his arm.

He looked down and saw Lady Amy subtly shake her head as if to say, "It does not matter. He is not worth it."

But she was worth it! How could he let a man insult her in his presence?

"If you cannot recognize an insult, then you had best get yourself a suitable pair of spectacles!"

Before the fight between the two men could escalate, Lady Amy steered Evan a little further away. As they stepped back, she glared at Lord Clarence and his wife.

"I hope we do not see each other again. Good night, Lord and Lady Clarence."

Before the other couple could mouth a word of protest, she had deftly maneuvered Evan—who was much larger and heavier than her by far—outside of the ballroom and into the moonlit gardens beyond. As soon as the fresh, cool air hit him, Evan began to feel a bit relaxed.

But not so much as to simply let it all go.

"Why the hell is Clarence acting so familiar with you?" he demanded. "And why did you not say anything?"

"Your Grace, I would remind you not to raise your voice at me," Lady Amy responded sharply. "I did not say anything about it because he is not worth the breath it would take to waste another word on him and his lovely wife." She took a deep breath and sighed. "And two years ago, we were engaged."

"You were what?"

The news left him reeling in shock. He had never once thought that Lady Amy had once been engaged to be married.

"I do not fault you for not knowing," she shrugged delicately. "The engagement did not last long, and it ended quietly with hardly anyone even knowing it even took place."

"Because he replaced you with that cow?"

Lady Amy looked at him in confusion before bursting out in laughter. "Your Grace, I hardly think the beautiful Lady Helena Clarence can be called a cow. If she is, then I must be... well, what can be worse than a cow?"

She said it with such an expression that told him that she must have compared herself to Helena at one point. She did not stoop down to calling her rival names—she merely accepted that the other lady won in terms of physical attributes, and the man who was once her fiancé had been a blind ass.

But she was wrong, and they were all wrong—Lady Amy was the most enchanting creature he had ever met. Never mind that she drove him half-mad with all her antics, but she truly was far more beautiful than anybody else in that ballroom.

Or in London, for that matter.

"Lady Clarence is a cow," he grumbled. "And Lord Clarence is blind—as I and all of us have been all this while."

"What do you mean—"

He cut off her words by gently lifting her chin and swallowing the rest of her sentence by sealing his lips over hers, giving into the temptation that had been haranguing him for the better part of the night.

And the past few days.

He had never wanted to taste a woman as much as he did her, and when he finally did, he realized that all this dreaming meant nothing.

Her lips were softer, sweeter than anything he could ever dream up. Her body, flush and pliant against his own hardness, threatened his very own sanity. She was fire, and he was the moth addicted to her dancing flame.

She moaned softly against his kiss, opening herself up to him—and he took that opening, plunging deeper into the spiraling desire that ensnared them both. She clung to him, her small hands clutching at his shoulders as he pressed her closer to him.

More, more, more!His blood roared in his ears, and it felt like he would never be able to get enough of her. Of them. Of this.

It was wrong—he knew it was so, so wrong. But dammit, nothing made more sense in his entire life.

If Lady Amy truly was mad, then maybe, he was just as insane as she was.