Chapter 25

25

The opening notes of the waltz swept through the ballroom. Caroline resisted the urge to adjust her gloves or fiddle with the diamond drops dangling from her ears. Instead, she donned the mask she’d perfected – the consummate duchess. Poised. Controlled. A portrait of calm on the surface.

“Shall we have a dance, duchess?” Julian murmured at her side. He held out one gloved hand.

Just one dance. You can endure one dance , Caroline told herself, slipping her hand into his.

He pulled her close, and the ballroom and all its glittering occupants faded away as they began to dance. The whispers and assessing glances melted into insignificance until nothing remained but the two of them, suspended in their own private orbit.

Julian led them flawlessly through steps ingrained in muscle memory, so attuned to the changes in Caroline’s body – the hitch in her breath, the tension singing through her limbs. Her thoughts drifted back through the years to another dance beneath endless blue skies. Just a wild, barefoot girl dancing with a boy in the meadows. No titles, no expectations, only possibilities.

She risked a glance upward, taking in his remote patrician features and pale eyes. To the rest of the ballroom, he wore his distant mask, the consummate duke – cold and untouchable.

But not to her. Never to her.

“You dance as flawlessly as I remember,” she managed.

His voice was smoke against her skin. “As do you. Just the same as always.”

A wistful smile teased her lips. “That’s not true, and you know it. I was all tangled feet and clammy palms back then. I couldn’t stop stepping on your poor toes.”

“Understandable, given your tendency to dance barefoot through meadows. All that wild spinning can’t have helped matters.”

The shared memory kindled a spark of warmth. She pictured his hands at her waist beneath sprawling oak branches, spinning faster and faster until they tumbled breathlessly into the grass. Her body tingled everywhere they touched. She had ached for more even then, before she understood this clawing need.

So many possibilities lived in every touch since he walked back into her life weeks ago. When he worshipped her body until she came undone beneath his hands.

She never wanted that to end.

“Where did your thoughts wander off to just now?” His voice pulled her back to the present. When she stayed mute, he made a rough sound of understanding. “Not so very proper thoughts, then. Well, my imagination is vivid. Care to share?”

Caroline fixed her gaze at a point beyond his shoulder, watching the other couples twirl by. “Admiring the architectural details. The crown moulding is just exquisite.”

His low laughter teased her. “You’re a dreadful liar, Linnie. I see you blushing and want to hear every improper thought you’ve ever had.”

Whispers surrounded them at the unfamiliar sound of the duke laughing. “You’re causing quite the scandal,” she murmured. “What will they think, seeing the Duke of Hastings laugh?”

The possessive hand at her back urged her closer as they moved in effortless synchronicity. “I suspect they’ll think I’m besotted with my wife,” Julian said. “And they wouldn’t be wrong.”

The confession shattered the last remnants of her composure. Without thinking, she tipped her face up to his.

His arm tightened almost painfully around her waist. Her poise was burning away, reduced to a pounding heart and visceral need. She stared into familiar eyes gone hungry, feral. On the razored edge of losing control. That same madness fraying the ends of her own restraint.

“Careful,” he warned, voice rough. “Any closer, and I won’t be able to resist kissing you senseless in front of all these fine people. Think of the scandal we’d inspire. Her Majesty may banish us from polite society for depravity.”

Caroline sucked in an unsteady breath, drunk on his nearness. She wanted nothing more than to close those last few inches between them. “Then let’s finish this dance and go home.”

The answering flare in his gaze promised retribution. “Can’t leave before the queen. Proper protocol. But at home, I fully intend to punish you for tempting me so shamelessly.”

Molten heat pooled low and aching between her thighs at the promise in those words. She wanted him wild, wanted that iron-clad control stripped away. Again and again, until thought fractured.

Reckless, she leaned in. “However will you discipline me for my depraved behaviour?”

Something dangerous sparked in Julian’s face. “When we get home, you’re to walk straight to my study and bend over my desk. Spread your legs and await your punishment.” Julian’s heavy-lidded stare drifted lazily down the length of her body before returning to hers, full of dark vows. “Then I’ll rip that gown off and mark you up until every inch is claimed as mine.”

“You’re a wicked man, Hastings.”

Now Julian smiled, and she understood why he never did so in polite company – it was devastating. Full of promise and sinful pleasures in the darkness. Around them, feminine gasps and whispers broke out.

“My duchess,” he purred against her ear, “I can’t wait to show you how wicked I can be.”

Anticipation shivered down her spine. She could feel his predatory focus as the waltz finally ended and he guided them from the dance floor. Caroline was acutely aware of Julian’s warmth, their shoulders brushing intimately as they walked.

A flash of movement in the corner of her eye made her falter. There, across the glittering ballroom – a familiar face.

Edgar Kellerman.

His eyes fixed on Julian. And clutched in his hand as he stepped from behind a pillar was—

“Julian!” She shoved him out of the way.

For a breath, the opulent ballroom froze.

Then, the deafening crack of the gunshot splintered the air, and pandemonium erupted. Screams and shouts echoed as ladies grasped their escorts in panic. Men bellowed in alarm, heads turning to locate the threat.

In the chaos, Caroline’s ears rang. She looked down slowly to see crimson spreading across the emerald silk of her gown. When she lifted her hand, it came away slick with blood. Some distant part of her registered the sting of pain, but deeper than that, underneath, was an icy numbness circulating through her limbs. Her legs folded, dress pooling on the polished floor.

Strong hands caught her before she hit the ground. “Linnie? Oh, God.” Julian’s face blurred above hers as he applied pressure to the wound. “Linnie,” he choked out.

His voice sounded muffled as though coming from underwater. Caroline tried to respond, but all that emerged was a wet choking sound. She could taste iron on her tongue.

As the ringing in her ears faded, she could just make out Julian’s commanding shouts. Then, the darkness finally claimed her.