creamed fillet of halibut. And she didn’t even like fish. With a crooked smile she forked up another mouthful.
To her vast relief, the duke decided to drop the brunt of his disapproving manner as the roast beef course was served. An undercurrent of tension lingered, but it was not as all-encompassing and oppressive as when they first arrived.
Despite the recovery of the evening, Dorothea’s head was plagued with a dull ache by the time they departed. When Carter handed her into his carriage, she gratefully sank back against the velvet squabs and closed her eyes, willing the tension to ease from her mind.
Seeming to understand and respect her need for solitude, her fiance allowed them to sit in silence until they were nearly halfway to the Smith-Johnsons’ ball.
“About my father-”
“There is no need to apologize,” Dorothea interrupted. “You were not responsible for his behavior. Though I feel I need to ask. Does the duke improve upon further acquaintance?”
“Honestly?”
“Please.”
“Not really.” A glimmer of amusement flickered in Carter’s eyes as he appraised her with a measuring gaze. “Well, you did ask for honesty.”
“I did. And I appreciate the truth.” Her chin jutted out determinedly. “Never fear. I will learn to handle him.”
“Or avoid him.”
Dorothea’s eyes widened. It was a telling comment. One that explained a good deal about the animosity that swirled beneath the surface between father and son. Avoidance had apparently been the method that Carter had decided to enact when coping with his father. And clearly that tactic had been employed with limited success.
“Thank you for the warning,” she said quietly.
“I will protect you as much as I can,” he promised. “And once you have given birth to an heir, I feel certain his criticism will ebb.”
Dorothea wasn’t sure she could wait that long. “I have been surrounded by women for most of my life, with the exception of my uncle Fletcher, a gentleman who keeps his thoughts and opinions to himself. These many females are a strong-willed, opinionated group. In order to survive, I have learned how to deflect an argument, ignore most criticism, and hide as many of my missteps as possible.”
“I am heartened to learn of it.”
“I do, however, have one request.”
Carter’s eyes lit with a momentary start of suspicion, but then it vanished, replaced by a cautious curiosity. “After you endured this evening with such grace and dignity, I feel I owe you anything.”
Dorothea smiled. She very much liked the idea of having him in her debt.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Punctuating her request with a likewise action, Dorothea lunged forward and wrapped her arms around a very startled marquess. He felt strong and solid and smelled divine. Bringing her mouth to his, she slowly skimmed her lips back and forth across his. He smiled faintly and allowed her teasing, doing nothing to either encourage or reject her advances.
Charmed at the notion that she was in control, Dorothea cupped his face in her hands. She would not be satisfied with merely pressing their mouths together. She wanted the passion and excitement she knew he could arouse in her. Boldly, she nibbled his lower lip, seeking entrance, and slowly, tantalizingly, he opened to her. Her tongue curled against his, tasting and teasing, and he responded by kissing her back with total abandon.
Dorothea instinctively began to move her body, amazed at the intense jolt of desire she felt, captivated by the tumbling sensations. He heated her blood in a way that no one else had ever done, in a way she did not fully understand. She only knew it intrigued and excited her and she wanted more. Much more.
His mouth was magical, enthralling her utterly. His hands moved on her throat, down the column of her neck, across her shoulders, then lower, his fingers lightly stroking her skin as he discovered the roundness of her breasts.
Dorothea found herself arching forward into his hot touch, blindly seeking the pleasure he was arousing so effortlessly in her. All too soon, he broke off the kiss, even as she felt her entire body growing restless and edgy.
She leaned against him, gulping air in deep, uneven breaths, frantically trying to figure out how she could get him to start kissing her again.
He exhaled raggedly. She lifted her head. His eyes were closed, his thumb and forefinger clenching the bridge of his nose as he struggled to rein in his passion.
“We are to be married,” she purred, in her best seductive voice. “Sharing a kiss or two is perfectly acceptable.”
He wiped a palm down his face and stared at her, his expression unreadable. “It is quickly progressing beyond a kiss. And as much as I want you, my dear, I will not take my future wife’s virginity in the back of a carriage.”
The flat, blunt statement washed over Dorothea like a bucket of ice water. She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and pulled away as a wave of deep embarrassment heated her cheeks.
“I hardly meant for things to go that far,” she muttered, her voice displaying only a partial tremor of mortification. She felt hot all over, certain her face was turning an unattractive shade of red. She desperately needed a draft of cool air to embrace her, but she dared not reach out to lower the window and draw even more attention to her plight.
Was it not a few days ago he had wickedly whispered his hope that she would be amenable to anticipating their marriage vows? Had he not tried to seduce her in the moonlight, to encourage a wanton and uninhibited response? What had changed so suddenly? Did he no longer feel a passion for her?
She tensed, yet dared to risk another glance at his face. The spark of heated desire revealed in his gaze soothed her wounded vanity. He was not unaffected by their embrace. He was merely able to control it better. The realization made Dorothea feel exposed, vulnerable.
There was no opportunity to ponder those feelings, for the coach rambled to a full stop. A footman opened the carriage door and lowered the step. Routinely, Dorothea extended her hand and allowed herself to be helped out. She turned, waiting for Carter to descend, but he remained seated, leaning his upper torso forward to speak with her.
“I bid you good evening, my dear. I do hope you will enjoy the party.”
“You aren’t coming inside?”
“Alas, I have other plans.”
“Oh.” Dorothea struggled to stretch her mouth into a strained smile. The sting of disappointment she felt was swift and sharp.
“You will, however, need an escort to take you inside.” He turned his head and scanned the few carriages that were arriving at the front gate.
Dorothea straightened, her pride bristling at being passed over to another man as if she were a burdensome old maid. “There is no need to fret on my account. Lord and Lady Dardington have most likely arrived. I should not have too much difficulty locating them once I am inside.”
She pivoted on her heel, but he was at her side before she had taken her first step. “Don’t be ridiculous. Naturally I shall escort you safely inside.”
He was all elegance and good manners, and that angered Dorothea even more. She wanted him to stay with her because he desired it, not because he felt it was the proper thing to do.
Nevertheless, she allowed him to take her arm and walk her into the party. It was the typical crush, with people everywhere, but somehow Carter found Lord Dardington among the masses.
He greeted the older man cordially, then bowed over her hand and bid her a crisp good night. As she watched his broad back fade from view, Dorothea felt a sharp pang of loss. Inexplicably she found herself fighting back a brace of tears.
She could feel Lord Dardington’s cool gaze upon her. Dorothea glanced down at her hands, then lifted her chin, doing her best to appear unconcerned. The wedding announcement had been made, the agreement struck. She would marry the marquess and make the best of the situation. Surprisingly, that knowledge and resolve brought a flood of relief to her confused emotions.
