Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes

He left her on the edge of the dance floor. She stared after him with complete befuddlement.

When she was single, men never looked at her twice. Why was it that once she’d found the man she wanted, they seemed to be lining up in droves?

Sometimes the Fates had a really twisted sense of humor.

“Chased the young pup off, I see.” The duke laughed as he approached her. His silvery waistcoat matched his hair tonight.

“It wasn’t like that. He had, erm, another person to dance with.”

The duke nodded knowingly. “It is quite close in this room. Would you care to walk onto the balcony with me? There is something I would ask.”

“If you’d like, Your Grace,” Leah said, though her eyes searched for any distraction she could plausibly use.

They passed through the crowd, which parted to let them through like Moses and the freaking Red Sea. Leah shook her head inwardly at the deference everyone showed to Granville. She’d been no better than these people only a few weeks ago. She’d only seen the title and hadn’t looked past it to see the man himself.

Not that Granville was bad. Quite the opposite. He was a sweet old man. But he was perfect for Lady Chesterfield, not her. Her heart was too full of someone else.

The night air was fresh with a hint of chill. Leah drew in a deep breath gratefully. It had really been stuffy in there, too many people and too many layers of undergarments. She’d never take her regular old cotton bra and panties for granted again.

“Miss Ram,” the duke said, placing a hand on her arm and turning her to face him, “I had hoped to speak with you about a matter of some delicacy.”

A little knot caught in Leah’s throat. “Of course,” she said. Uh-oh. Had she been reading his signals wrong? She hadn’t thought he was really into her, but he seemed to be nervous. If he proposed to her right now, she’d fall over in shock.

The duke took a deep breath. “Your aunt, Lady Chesterfield.” He stopped, looking out over the darkened lawn. Leah followed his gaze. He wasn’t really looking at anything.

“My aunt?” she prodded.

“Yes. Of course. Your aunt.” He looked down at her, smiling in a nervous but fatherly way. “Has she made mention of me?”

So that’s the way he’s rolling. Relief nearly made Leah sag. “She talks about you all the time.”

His eyes lit up. “She does?”

Leah nodded. “I think she really likes you.”

“I see.”

They fell silent. Leah worried the inside of her cheek, wondering what she should do to help this along.

“You know, Your Grace,” she said, looking down at the toes of her slippers, “I think she’s really interested in you. Why don’t you ask her to the park? Or the theatre?”

He clasped his hands together behind his back. “The dowager duchess is not in favor of my marrying again.”

“Oh. Oh. I see.” The memory of his mother made Leah shudder. The poor man. “But you don’t need her permission, right?”

“No, of course not.” He pursed his lips. “But my mother can make things, well, difficult, to say the least. Since her dowry repaired the family fortunes, I find myself somewhat dependent upon her good nature.”

Leah nodded knowingly. “Well, you could always—”

A shot rang out. The lamppost beside them shattered, raining glass onto the ground beside them.

Twenty-Four

Avery ran after the Chesterfield carriage. Thankfully, with the glut of conveyances leaving at the same time, Leah and her chaperone were forced to move slowly along the lane toward the home in Hanover Square.

He kept his breath even as he followed at a distance.

Staying out of sight had not been easy for the past weeks, but he’d had no choice. After the Swansdown came the Berford. Prachett had demanded Avery lose at both tourneys, promising to harm Leah if he did not comply. Though the lies gnawed at him daily, he did as he was bidden, losing to boxers who he could have readily beaten. The duke had never mentioned anything, but Avery knew that his actions must look suspicious.

Besides, staying near to Leah would only have strengthened the connection that should never have formed at all—that had put her very life in danger tonight and all the nights she’d been in his life.

Then why do you follow her still? his subconscious mocked him. He had no choice. The gunshot tonight had been a warning from Prachett’s men; he knew that. To ensure Avery’s continued assistance, they would do much worse to Leah.

Ignoring the thought, he ducked behind the manor house just beyond Lady Chesterfield’s. He watched from the cover of shrubbery as Lady Chesterfield and Leah descended the carriage and headed into the house.

He sighed with relief, as he did every night when she’d returned home safely. The carriage rumbled to a start, heading for its home in the stables.

Guilt chased him, ever his constant companion. He should not follow her. He should not steal after her in the night like a thief. But it was his fault her life was in danger. He must protect her if he could.

“Sorry, Lady Chesterfield. I forgot my fan in the carriage.”

Leah’s voice floated to him, the sweet sound drawing memories that he longed to relive. He ducked lower as she descended the front steps and followed the path the carriage had taken toward the stables.

Indecision gnawed at his gut. He should leave. He should not speak to her, should not make his presence known. She’d be angry with him. She may even hate him for neglecting her, no matter his good intentions.

He stole after her anyway. Her presence was a lure he could not deny. Pressing his back against the chilly stone wall of the stable, he waited.

Her voice was indistinct as she spoke with the stable lad. A light laugh whipped Avery across his chest. She sounded so happy, so free. He looked downward, to where his hands were fisted in front of him. He should stay away. Her life was better without him.

“Avery?”

Reflexively he brought his fists upward into a fighting stance, dropping them a split second later when he realized that Leah was looking straight at him, a delicate white lace fan in her hands.

He stood straight and cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he said, frantically searching his brain for an appropriate reason for his presence. “Miss Ramsey. Good evening.”

Her fan thwacked across his arm. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She gripped him by the hand and dragged him farther into the shadows. He tried to ignore her closeness, but the scent and heat of her body wrapped around him. When she turned to him, fire in her eyes, it was all he could do not to kiss her.

“I have been waiting to hear from you for two freaking weeks.” She punctuated her statement with a finger to his chest. “I thought you’d died or something. Where the crap have you been?”

He caught her hand against his chest, pressing it to his thumping heart. “I have been closer than you know.”

She delivered a soft kick to his shin. He grunted as she connected with a still-healing bruise. “What, are you stalking me now? Because that’s not sexy at all, even if you were a sparkly vampire.”

He shook his head in confusion.

She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. But seriously, I’ve missed you.”

“I have missed you as well,” he whispered, and bent his head to hers. She jerked sideways, avoiding his kiss, and disappointment flooded him.