Strike at Midnight(4)

He was already leading me out onto the dance floor before a good-enough excuse entered my brain.

He walked quicker than I could tolerate in this dress, and it made me want to stab him in the eye just for making me suffer. But then the idiot gave me another one of those looks and I found myself feeling guilty. This wasn’t the kind of man who deserved a stab in the eye. It just wouldn’t be fair.

He was over a foot taller than me, which was good, considering I was quite tall for a female. And I had to admit that I quite liked the feel of his hand on my waist as he launched me into a waltz.

Romance wasn’t a priority for me, and a roll in the sheets was about as close as I got in regards to relationships. But this was nice.

We swept around the dance floor as he kept his eyes locked on mine, and I liked the way his light-brown hair glistened under the candles in the chandelier above us. He smiled at me, and it brought me back to the fact that I had just thought in my head that his hair had glistened. Glistened. What the actual fuck?

My feet stumbled over one another at the shocking thought, and he efficiently lifted me into a twirl and moved us off the dance floor.

“Are you sure you’re well, my lady?” he asked, and I had to cover up a snicker with a cough at the address. A lady? Me? That really was laughable.

“I am fine,” I said, putting my hand on my chest to feign exhaustion. “It’s just been a very trying evening so far.”

“Oh, but of course, no further explanation needed. Would you like me to get you a glass of lemonade?”

“Lemonade?” I asked, feeling disappointment that he hadn’t offered the wine. “Sure.” I nodded.

He rubbed his thumb slightly against my wrist before moving off to get my refreshment, and my heart jumped a little at the feel of it. My heart never jumped over things like that. Maniacs jumping out of dark shadows, yes. Men touching my wrists, no way. Not until now, at least.

Now that he had left my side, I was able to subtly adjust my skirts. The slight breeze I felt from shuffling them was like heaven. The heat of so many bodies being pushed into one location did not make for comfortable standing, but at least I had a view of the entrance again.

“Here you go,” said the man whose name I hadn’t caught before. He was back and handing me lemonade in a beautiful crystal glass. At that precise moment, when the bubbling, cold liquid beckoned to me like a piece of candy to Gretel’s brother, I could have kissed him. For the lemonade. Only for the lemonade.

It didn’t take me long to down the drink, and I nodded to him in thanks as I finished it off.

“Thank you,” I said a little breathlessly. “That was definitely needed.”

“Would you like another?” he asked, so eager to please, but I didn’t need him to play fetch for me all night.

“No, I’m fine.”

A trumpet sounded, and the footmen who were standing at the main entrance stepped into position. Please say this is the duke.

“May we present to you, the Duke of York,” bellowed one of the men in all of his gold-and-burgundy livery, and I shoved the glass back into the guy’s hand without taking my eyes off where the duke would enter. Thank the twinkling stars he was here and I could finally do my job.

“I would actually love another glass, if you wouldn’t mind?” I asked him distractedly.

“Of course, my lady. I will be but a moment.”

As soon as he had gone, I made my way over to the other side of the room where the duke was meant to have entered.

The crowd was like moving obstacles as I pushed my way through the sea of bodies, and the man matching the duke’s description finally fell into view. It was to my advantage that he was a tall guy and that his red jacket adorned with frills and jewels made him stand out among an assembly of velvet. He made his way over to a group of people near the far right of the ballroom, and I followed.

This was my chance. I needed to get in with those people and hopefully gain a formal introduction. That would give me a view of his hand, where the birthmark was supposed to be.

The duke approached the group at the same time I subtly blended in with them from the back.

“Good evening,” the Duke said, with his charming good looks and auburn hair. He raised his hand to greet the members of the group with a handshake, and my job suddenly got a whole lot harder. He was wearing gloves. Damn it to hell.

Why I hadn’t even considered this possibility before now was beyond me, but I was blaming the crippling dress as the distraction. And the stupid Lemonade Guy. I needed to get my head back in the game.

Getting the duke to remove his gloves was going to be tricky, so I moved away from the group as I thought of a way to do so. There was no point getting an introduction while I was still devising a plan.

An alcove in a recess of the ballroom called out to me as I sought out a moment’s solace. It would be a perfect place for the shadows to swallow me up for a little while, so I headed over to it. How the hell was I going to coerce the duke to remove his gloves in public?

My corset pinched me as a large sigh escaped, and the idea that formed in my head made me cranky. Seducing the bastard was the only way I was going to get him to strip the damn things off, and visions of whisking him off to a private room somewhere made me gag just a little bit. This wasn’t how I had wanted the job to go down—not that I was beyond a bit of seduction when the job needed it—but my head was all over the place after the peppy guy had swept me across the room. Now the thought of another man’s hands on me seemed wrong somehow, and I didn’t want to acknowledge why that may be.