Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(18)

Daisy bit back a smile. “I’d rather you not spend any efforts guessing the er…gentleman’s identity.”

Marcus captured his chin between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed. “Hmm, then answer me this. Is he a good man, because I’ll not allow you to ensnare the attention of a rogue like myself?”

She’d not earned anyone’s notice, and most certainly not the gentleman she’d hoped to, as Marcus put it, ensnare. “He is, honorable,” she said softly.

“Well, then. I’ll be left to guess.”

“Yes, I believe we’ve already surmised as much,” she said dryly.

“Humph,” he muttered.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give in to his baiting. She’d wager the use of her right hand he’d never guess the identity of the gentleman in question. Neither Auric nor Marcus had ever truly seen her as anything more than a sisterly extension of Lionel. Yet, for the bother Marcus now made of himself, it felt so very nice to be teased. For too many years, with servants and polite Society alike, she’d become accustomed to being tiptoed around, whispered about pityingly. Lady Daisy Meadows, the poor, young lady, whose family had crumbled, first with the loss of Lionel and then with Papa.

The orchestra’s frantic playing drew to a cessation and the crowd erupted into a bevy of applause. The violins plucked the opening strands of the next set.

Marcus held his elbow out.

She eyed it. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.”

She folded her arms and took a step away from him. “Are you asking or ordering?”

He leaned close and again waggled an eyebrow. “Have a pity, Daisy-girl. However am I to gather the identity of the gent who’s captured your notice if I don’t do a bit of investigating?”

A strangled laugh worked its way up her throat. “Well, then in the name of your research, I suppose I should allow you this set.” She placed her fingertips upon his coat sleeve and allowed him to guide her toward the dance floor.

He maneuvered her expertly through the crowd. “Lord Darbyshire?” he whispered close to her ear.

She looked around. “Where?”

“Is it Lord Darbyshire who has caught your fancy?”

She pinched his arm. “Lord Darbyshire is sixty if he’s a day.”

“Even older gentlemen require the love of a good, kind lady.”

“Ideally from a good, kind lady closer in years to his own,” she said, her tone droll.

They took their places alongside the other couples lining the floor. She curtsied with the row of ladies. Marcus dropped a bow. They walked down the center of the line. “Lord Willoughby, then?”

They switched partners. She gave her head a little shake and moved through the steps of the quadrille until she and Marcus were brought together. They raised their palms and performed the next motions of the dance. “I daresay a waltz would be more conducive to finding out your secret, Daisy Meadows,” he said under his breath.

“You should have better strategized before hastily requesting the quadrille.” She laughed, earning disapproving stares from the other dancers. “We’re attracting notice, my lord.”

He winked. “Which would make it in your best interest to share the name of your suitor.”

Some of her amusement died. She’d the same chance of calling Auric her suitor as she did in being named the Queen’s favorite. Both about as likely as a rainbow without the rain. “I don’t have a suitor,” she muttered.

The dance saw them separated yet again.

When the steps brought them back together, he took her hand and gently twirled her. “You do know you’ll leave me little choice but to enlist Auric’s support.”

Daisy stumbled.

Marcus’ teasing grin faded and he righted her.

“I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, grateful when the dance saw them separated once more. She glanced around in search of Auric and located him at the opposite end of the ballroom floor where he now stood, a glass of champagne dangling carelessly between his elegant fingers. With an almost detached interest, he surveyed the ballroom. She frowned. No, it wouldn’t do for Marcus to discover she’d gone and done something so foolhardy as to fall in love with the unattainable duke.

The steps of the dance brought her together with Marcus once more. Gone was the teasing light in his pale blue eyes. Her stomach clenched as she braced against the dawning awareness in his intelligent gaze.

“You do know I was merely teasing. I’d not dare enlist Crawford’s stuffy support.”

The tension drained from her and an almost giddy sense of relief filled her. “Oh, is he stuffy?” Marcus didn’t realize the gentleman who she’d gone and fallen hopelessly and helplessly in love with many years ago was, in fact, his best friend.

Lord Marcus’ response was automatic. “Certainly. Hopelessly stuffy and seems more so in the years since he became duke.”

They went through the delicate, circle steps of the quadrille.

Auric’s parents had died a number of years ago in a tragic carriage accident. Not long after Lionel’s death. Pain pricked her heart. Selfishly, she’d been besieged by the agony of her own loss that she’d never really stopped to consider the great heartbreak he had known in such a short span of time. She sought him out in the crowd once more and again stumbled.