The Inconvenient Duchess

warm against her flesh, and the gentle roughness of his skin, not just in her hand, but deep inside her. His thumb rubbed at her palm, feeling the places where the calluses used to be, and the newly sensitive flesh tingled. Then he turned her hand over, pressing his lips on to her palm and running his tongue along the lines in her hand. His eyes were dark when he looked up at her, and his voice rough. ‘Go to the ballroom. I will meet you there shortly.’
    When she got to the ballroom, she looked at it with a critical eye. One more space that had not been cleaned in ages. Obviously unused, possibly since Marcus’s first marriage. Turning back the Holland covers, she found delicate gold-legged chairs and small tables, music stands. The chandeliers were beyond dusty, and covered with candle drippings. The ceiling was smoke stained, and cobwebs hung from the ornate gold cherubs and plasterwork vines on the walls. It could be magnificent, she thought, after a good cleaning. Decorated with fresh flowers. Candlelight. Delicate treats ona buffet for the guests. Little cakes, lemonade and champagne. She’d imagined the scene many times, while preparing great rooms such as this for someone else’s ball.
    Behind her, one of the footmen was tuning a fiddle and a groom had produced a penny whistle, which he was tooting experimentally. Servants were gathered in a curious crowd, whispering amongst themselves.
    And then the doors opened wide and her husband strode into the room, carrying a small box. He smiled at the assembled staff. ‘I see we have more than the required number for a quadrille. Is everyone shirking, then? I trust no one was left behind to turn a spit or polish the silver.’
    The servants looked doubtful.
    ‘If they were, then run to get them now. Let the house have a holiday, at least for a few hours. I swear my wife must work you hard, judging by the startling transformations I’ve seen in my home these last weeks. Never fear. I plan to keep her busy for a while, and she will not be able to set you to task for not mopping this floor.’ He turned to her. ‘And you, my dear. If we are to play at going to the ball this afternoon, I thought you might like a costume.’
    And he opened the box that he had brought with him and withdrew the emeralds, just as Polly had predicted.
    ‘The necklace from the portrait,’ she said.
    ‘The stones,’ he corrected. ‘But not the necklace. When I was in London to retrieve them, I had them reset.’ He ran a finger along their length. ‘They are not so common and flashy as they were. The gold is fine and graceful as the throat of the wearer, and diamonds were added to match the sparkle in your eyes. May I?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He stood behind her, reached around to position the necklace between her breasts, then trailed his hands along it to the clasp at the back. He joined it, and his hand lingered on her shoulders as he pulled her close and whispered in her ear, ‘I hope to make you say yes to me many times before the night is through, and I swear you will not be sorry for it. What say you to that, madam?’
    She blushed crimson. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Very good.’ And then he said loud enough so the servants could hear, ‘Let us start with something easy that we all know. The Sir Roger de Coverly.’
    And with the help of the fiddler and the flute, tapping time with his foot, he marched his wife and the staff through it, then a quadrille, a minuet and several country dances, until they were all laughing and exhausted.
    ‘There is one final dance that I would teach you, although you will not need it for tonight.’
    ‘Not need it?’
    He smiled down at her again, and her blood warmed in her veins. ‘Yes. They dance it on the continent, but it is much too wicked for an English country ball.’
    ‘Too wicked?’
    ‘Very. For a man must put his hands like so,’ and he wrapped them around her waist and pulled her close to him.
    ‘That does not feel too wicked,’ she murmured. ‘When you do it, it feels quite nice.’
    ‘Very good, then, let us proceed. Fiddler, three-quarter time. A waltz.’ And he swept her away.
    It was hard at first, trying to decipher the step even though it was simple. But he held her even closer to him, and she felt his legs moving against hers and his arm at her waist guiding her, and suddenly nothing seemed more natural than to go where he went and move as he moved. He looked intoher eyes, and she felt her heart wanting the same, to be moving