Chapter 16

CHAPTER16

Amy self-consciously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she walked back to join Esther and her Aunt Dorothy. Her best friend shot her a knowing look, and she subtly shook her head. Fortunately, Esther knew her rather well and refrained from saying anything.

Aunt Dorothy, however, gave her an appraising look and smiled. "My dear, you look a bit heated..."

Amy gave her a wobbly smile. "It is rather crowded in here..."

A surreptitious glance told her that His Grace had entered the ballroom as well, looking exceedingly handsome and perfect as he always did. As if she had not just thrown herself all over him…

Thinking about that brought another wave of warmth rising up her cheeks which caused Aunt Dorothy to put her hand over her forehead.

"Are you sure you are all right?" she clucked. "Perhaps you would want some fresh air for a bit—"

"No!" Amy exclaimed, eyes wide, before she collected herself and murmured delicately, "I meant to say that I feel perfectly fine..."

I just had one of the most indescribably encounters with the finest male specimen in the whole of London.

If her Aunt Dorothy ever discovered what she had been up to, she would no doubt lecture her endlessly about it. Her father would also hear about it, and how was she ever going to explain to them that her scandalous behavior towards the Duke of Leonbridge was perfectly within her plans to pursue spinsterhood. Do spinsters actually demand heated, passionate kisses in the moonlight?

Amy cast a wary glance towards her aunt and hastily dispensed of that notion. There was no way her Aunt Dorothy would ever do such a thing. She might have a lot to say about her niece’s behavior about it, however...

"Very well," Aunt Dorothy relented although her gaze remained upon Amy, who promptly turned around to Esther and held her fan up to cover the blush across her cheeks.

Aunt Dorothy might never have married and had children of her own, but she was not like the other chaperones who were negligent enough to get their charges in the most scandalous scrapes. No, she was possessed of a keen intelligence herself that she stealthily hid behind a jovial smile—a feat that Amy had never achieved.

She watched from across the room and noted that His Grace was in a conversation with Lord Drew and the Marquess of Repington. She had learned to recognize that the smile he wore was not like his usual indolent smirk but rather was one that was rather...stiff. He was even cradling a wine glass as if he felt the need to mask the trembling in his hands.

But that was all rather funny. After all, why would the Duke of Leonbridge be unnerved by their encounter? She was quite certain he was a master of the love affair. If anyone told her that this was the first time a woman had ever thrown herself against him, she would not believe it. Moreover, she would call that person a fool.

But why else was His Grace acting quite... strange—for lack of a better term?

He truly was unlike any other gentleman she had ever encountered. Ever since their first dance, he had confused her at every turn.

He was persistently kind and considerate. He never took advantage of her, nor did he leave her when she began to act crazily towards him. She had embarrassed him before his friends, and still, he treated her as if she was worthy of all the respect she did not show him.

He was the man every unmarried young woman in this ballroom wanted to marry, but he still only paid attention to her—a woman that no other gentleman would even think of approaching.

As she watched him from afar, she could not help but wonder if there truly was such a man as the Duke of Leonbridge—one who was upright and steadfast and exceptionally handsome at that!

And more than that, could a man as perfect as he was ever see her and love her for who she was?

* * *

It was his second glass of wine since he returned to the ballroom after that brief interlude with Lady Amy in the gardens. He wished that the taste of alcohol would at least neutralize the taste of her lips on his, but alas! It was all he could ever think of.

The smell of her perfume on her skin, her soft warmth pressing against him, her sweet lips opening up to him in soft, feminine surrender...

Evan was sure that the memory of that kiss would drive him mad before the night was over!

Who would have thought that the woman that no gentleman in the ton would ever deem marriageable would incite such a fierce longing in him? Who would have thought that it would be Lady Amy Clarke who would actually make him act like a damned fool, trying to hide his arousal in his trousers?

"Your cravat."

He whipped towards Benedict with a sullen glare. "What about my bloody damned cravat?"

"It’s wrinkled, Your Grace," Charles pointed out with a smirk.

Evan fought the instinct to touch that piece of clothing, remembering how Lady Amy had earlier clung to it as she kissed him. Kissed him!

She certainly was quite bold for a young lady who was supposed to have no knowledge of such things!

But then again, he had long since resigned himself to not be so surprised when it came to her. She was like a chameleon, ever changing her colors—only that she never did blend into her surroundings.

She only stood out all the more, and right now, she commanded his attention at every turn. He could not look away from her for more than five bloody minutes. His eyes would unerringly seek her across the ballroom, and when he saw some gentlemen approach her, it was all he could do to stop himself from marching over and yanking them away from her presence.

Mad... he had gone absolutely mad, and it was all her fault. Hers and that of his so-called best friend, who got him into all this trouble with this challenge!

Worst of all, he could not even be with her, as they both seemed to want, because of that stupid challenge hanging over his head!

"Now that I think of it, you both disappeared together, but Lady Amy returned alone just a little bit ahead of you," Benedict smiled knowingly at him. "And when she came back, I distinctly remembered how she looked a little—"

Evan shot his friend a sharp glare that dared him to talk more about Lady Amy.

"Flustered," Benedict finished with a triumphant grin. "The young lady looked rather flustered."

It was a nice way of saying that she came back with her hair slightly in disarray and her lips swollen from their passionate kisses out in the garden.

Evan shrugged his broad shoulders as nonchalantly as he could. "That would be because of that bastard Andrew Clarence."

"From what I hear, Lord Clarence’s parentage is above reproach," Charles remarked. "That is quite an accusation, but I know that you will not let such words go so loosely, my friend."

"Well, he was always of a slightly repugnant nature," Benedict scoffed. "Whatever did he do to merit your anger?"

Evan narrowed his eyes at his now empty wineglass. "It is not my place to say."

"Ah."

"He is already married to Lady Helena," the Marquess shrugged.

Evan was well-aware of that, but he still hated the way Lord Clarence had looked at Lady Amy earlier. To do so in the presence of his own wife—the man knew no shame. Even the most unrepentant rakes of London knew how to be more discreet.

As if I would ever allow him to lay a finger on her, he swore to himself. And if he ever dares to look her way like that again, I shall teach him a lesson he will never forget…

Of course, that was if Lady Amy did not get to Clarence first. As much as Evan hated Lord Clarence and wished to rush to her rescue, he knew that the little spitfire was more than enough to handle that man on her own. She would probably emasculate him before Evan himself could get to her.

He smiled a little at that, finding comfort in the thought that Lady Amy found most other men disdainful, except for himself. He might have done a lot of excellent things in this lifetime, but gaining her approval was definitely one of the best things he had ever done in this life…

"Bloody hell, are you actually... smiling?" Benedict remarked suddenly. He peered closer at Evan, who tried to swat him away dismissively. "You are smiling!"

"Nonsense!" Evan scoffed, but there was still the hint of a smile on his lips. When he looked across the ballroom and a pair of green eyes met his, his smile only grew wider.

His best friend shook his head. "Damn, I never thought I would see this day! But remember, you still have another week to gain the young lady’s affections without touching her or enticing her into your bed!"

"I think that the young lady in question is already quite taken in with our friend," Charles remarked with a slight frown. "His Grace, on the other hand—"

"I am not some sort of idiot who cannot contain himself," Evan protested. "I know very well that there remains a week for our challenge."

"And if you touch her intimately, then you will have to forfeit!"

"Yes, yes... I know that already."

Much to his chagrin, Evan had to abide by the terms that they had set earlier. In any case, he did not want to take Lady Amy there out on the cold stone bench. She deserved more than a quick romp in the dark.

No, he would lay her down on his bed and make love to her for hours on end until her voice became hoarse from screaming his name. And even then, he would not stop until he had spent all of himself on her...He was going to make sure that his name would be the only one she would ever be calling out—for all eternity.

Evan stiffened at the thought of that. He had never before considered spending the rest of his life with just one woman—that sounded a lot like marriage, and he had long ago promised himself that he would never marry and make another woman as miserable as his mother had been ever since his own sire had wed her.

If he married Lady Amy—as he was now considering—would he even be a good husband for her? Would he be able to keep her happy and content for the rest of her life as she deserved?

Or was he bound to end up like his own father?

Evan had always felt there was a sort of darkness within him, and that was what kept him from seeking out a bride for himself.

In the past, he never felt the need to, anyway. There were women he could sleep with once or twice before he moved on with his life as they did with theirs. It was much easier slaking one’s lust in an almost transactional manner with no messy emotions involved.

Emotions only got in the way of things and made everything more complicated than it could ever be. That was why Evan steered clear of giving women the false hope that he might have some affection for him.

But everything was different now that Lady Amy had come into his life. Now, he was seriously considering spending a great length of time in the company of only one woman.

Not only that, he felt a keen possessiveness towards her, and the thought of any other man being in her presence, enjoying her rapier sharp wit and her fiercely passionate kisses—it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

No, it actually made him want to smash something.

He had never before felt something so acutely discomfiting as the range of emotions that he was now feeling in relation to this one young woman.

Somehow, in the space of a week, she had managed to turn his entire world upside-down.

But if he did marry her, who was to say that their marriage could last a lifetime? Who was to say that they could be happy with each other and not end up like every other married couple in the ton?

What if, in the course of several years, he would only witness that once enchanting glow in her eyes fade into a dull sheen because of him?

Evan once believed that if you truly loved something, it was best to set it free.

Why was he so loath to do so with this one woman now?