One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(88)

Like everyone else, he’d been captivated by his wife.

“What are you doing here?” The voice came from behind him.

He turned. “I ought to ask you that.”

“I’m watching the party, of course. Just like you.” Claudia stepped forward to join him at the gallery rail, and together they stared down at the dancers. “I’m weary of Bea Grantham. She’s a very silly girl.”

“I thought she’s the same age as you.”

“Not in any way that counts.” Leaning on the balustrade, she propped her chin in one hand. “Amelia looks rather pretty tonight.” There was surprise in her voice.

“Yes, she does.”

Hm. Now he had the answer to his question.

The night they first met, if someone had asked him to describe Amelia d’Orsay, he would have called her plain. Unremarkable, at best. By the morning, he’d come to think of her as passable, even lovely in the most flattering light. He’d always found her alluring, in a voluptuous, sensual way.

But when she’d emerged in their suite earlier, dressed in that gown … Good Lord. He’d felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut. His heart had stuttered, and then there’d been an ache that settled in his chest. He’d realized, quite suddenly, that he now must count her among the most beautiful women he’d ever known. When had that happened? He’d spent the evening puzzling—was the change in her, or in him?

He had his answer now. It was her, all her. Perhaps she hadn’t changed, but she’d been revealed.

“She’s very popular with the gentlemen, isn’t she?” Claudia’s voice took on a cheeky tone. “Perhaps I’ll apply to her for advice.”

An uneasy feeling welled in his gut. Ever since Amelia had suggested Claudia might be envious of Spencer’s marriage, he’d felt uneasy around his ward. He doubted Amelia’s supposition was true, but he was afraid to ask and find out. In general, he just didn’t know how to talk to Claudia anymore. Not that he’d ever been especially proficient at it, but lately she was so prickly and difficult. He hated that she was growing up, and growing further away from him.

“It’s past your bedtime,” Spencer told her.

She sighed dramatically. “Do you plan to treat me like a little girl forever?”

“Yes. That’s what guardians do.” To her sulky pout, he replied pointedly, “Good night.”

Once Claudia had gone, he turned to find Amelia in the crowd again. It wasn’t difficult. All he had to do was look for the knot of slavering men.

He wasn’t alone in his admiration of her, and he couldn’t pretend to be pleased. Humbling as it was to admit, he’d rather liked believing she had no better alternatives than marriage to him. That even if he bungled everything—which he was obviously wont to do—he needn’t worry about losing her to another man.

He tossed back another swallow of brandy. Tonight, he was worried. Very worried. Behind that screen she’d looked up at him with such heartrending doubt in her eyes. Didn’t she have any idea what she meant to him? For God’s sake, he was here. At a party. In Oxfordshire. For her. That ought to tell her something.

Evidently it didn’t tell her enough. There was no way around it. He was going to have to explain a few things to her. Very slowly, and in some detail. And for a man who’d long ago vowed never to explain himself to anyone …

Spencer was rather looking forward to it.

He descended the stairs and entered the hall just as the first strains of a waltz began. Amelia was already partnered with another man—some local gentleman farmer whose name he’d forgotten already—but Spencer didn’t give a damn.

“I believe this is my dance,” he said, extending his hand right in front of the waiting man’s.

Amelia gave him a reproving look, but the farmer was already gone. Taking her in his arms, Spencer swept his wife onto the dance floor.

“Is it midnight already?” she teased.

“Near enough.” He took her through a brisk series of turns. “I owe you an answer, from earlier.”

“Oh, no,” she stammered. “No, please. I was so silly to even—”

“I’ve been staring at you all night, you said.”

“Just … just a little.”

“Oh, I have been. So has every man here. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“They’re only drawn by the novelty.”

“Is that what you’re calling them tonight?” He cast a glance at her cle**age.

She blushed. “I suppose a well-cut gown does do wonders for a girl’s confidence.”

“Hm.” He tightened his arm around her waist. “No, Amelia, I don’t believe it has much to do with the gown, or the novelty. It’s just you. They’re drawn to you. You’ve been courting notice tonight. Flirting and dancing and laughing with every man to pass your way. And you’ve been enjoying their attention. Don’t deny it.”

“Very well, I won’t.” Her expression turned wary. “Are you displeased?”

An excellent question. He’d been asking himself the same thing. But he couldn’t begin to give an answer here.

“We need to leave,” he said. “Immediately.”