Ice Cold Duke (Frigid Dukes #2)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

“ I hope things will slow down once we’re in London,” Lucien muttered to himself as he closed the door to his study behind him and pinched the crown of his nose, trying to wake himself up. “I won’t be able to accompany Leah anywhere if there remains this amount of work to do.”

When he’d announced earlier that he had to work and couldn’t stay for the dance lessons, he hadn’t just been trying to escape the awkwardness of Leah, Eve, and Monsieur Souverain walking in on him with Emery. (Although that had certainly been awkward!)

Lucien really did have a lot of work to complete, and now, as he walked back to his bedroom through the quiet, empty halls of the castle, close to midnight, he was exhausted. His eyes hurt from staring at ledgers, and his hands were aching from writing instructions to his estate agent, answering invitations to different balls and parties in London, and ordering everything that they would need for a whole Season in town. He should have done most of these weeks ago, but the number of things he had to do had really piled up, and he hadn’t had much time to devote to his duties, seeing as how every waking hour seemed to be filled up with preparing Emery for her London debut.

I really am debuting two young ladies on the ton this Season, he thought, shaking his head. The only difference is that one of them is already married.

Lucien rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh. It will be over soon. We’ll be in London, and Emery will either sink or swim; our familial reputation will either be saved or ruined. He’d done all that he could, now he just had to put his faith in his family and in Emery. Which, if truth be told, he rather did. His opinion of her had gone up so much over the past few weeks.

He was just passing the ballroom when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar and that a thin stream of candlelight was coming from inside. Pausing, he took a step closer, and that’s when he heard it: the unmistakable sound of someone inside, moving around the room on light--but not noiseless--feet.

Lucien smiled to himself. He knew who it was. The tread of the feet on the floor gave it away. None of my sisters, after all, would make so much noise while dancing.

Going to the door, Lucien pushed it open a little more and peeked inside. Sure enough, there, in the middle of the dancefloor, her arms held up as if wrapped around a partner, and her eyes closed in concentration, was his wife. She was dancing by herself, the waltz, from the look of it. And as he looked closer, he realized her lips were moving as well: she was counting her steps as she moved back and forth, by herself, over the polished wood floors.

For a moment, he stood in the doorway, watching her. Despite the fact that it was odd to see a person dancing by themselves, she looked very graceful. He’d never suspected she was a natural dancer, but just looking at her, he could tell that she moved with all the grace of a proficient dancer. And in the candlelight, which cast a warm, flickering light over her milky skin, she looked ethereal. Her hair had been let all the way down, and it fell in luxurious waves all the way down to the small of her back, shiny and black, glinting in the candlelight like an inky black pond in the moonlight.

He was reminded of a nymph that had slipped through the veil from the next world to this one, only to steal a moment alone in a Duke’s castle, dancing with her invisible love.

Goosebumps shuddered down Lucien’s spine and up his arms. He’d never imagined something like this before, had never even spent a moment thinking about nymphs since he was a child, and the image surprised him.

That’s a very elaborate and romantic backstory for a man like you, who despises romance so much, to come up with.

Emery had said that to him just the other day. It had startled him, and he’d rejected the idea that knowing a few tropes of the romantic genre made him a romantic, but now, here he was, imagining that his wife looked like a nymph dancing with some long-lost love.

I'd best say something to her. Before I come up with something else that is even more ludicrous.

He took another step into the room. Still, she didn’t open her arms, and seemed completely unaware of her presence. A slight smile creased her lips, and he wondered what she was imagining, in that romantic head of hers. Probably something even more elaborately romantic. The thought made him pause. What was it that his wife thought of when she thought of romance? Why hadn’t he asked?

Maybe it’s time to find out.

“That’s not a dance that’s traditionally dance alone,” he said, his voice low and warm, breaking the spell of the moment.

At once, Emery’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped in surprise, her hands coming to her chest as to still her rapidly beating heart. Then her eyes found his, and she dropped her arms to her sides. At the same time, a flush came to her cheeks.

“How long have you been there?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“Not long,” he said, a small smile playing across his lips. “Just long enough to see that you are a very elegant dancer.”

Emery laughed, a little sadly, and shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“The dancing lesson went horribly.” She looked down for a moment, then back up at him, a resigned look on her face. “Monsieur Souverain was very harsh--but of course, he was right to be. I was terrible. My footwork was all off, I kept tripping over my own feet, and I was stiff and awkward.”

“I’m surprised to hear that,” Lucien said, taking a step closer to her. “That’s not what I just saw.”

She shrugged, as if trying to affect nonchalance, but he could tell she was still upset.

“It’s okay if you are not the greatest dancer,” he said, hoping that his tone was comforting, rather than condescending. “But Monsieur Souverain is known far and wide as one of the most difficult-to-impress dancing instructors.”

“I just…” she hesitated, then looked down again, at her toes. “I just don’t want to let everyone down. Everyone is working so hard to make sure that Leah isn’t ruined by what happened--by my selfishness, my lack of thinking in others in deciding to end my engagement the day of the wedding.”

“You are not letting anyone down,” Lucien said, so firmly and with so much authority that she looked up at him, a little surprised. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her chin, tilting upward to look directly into his eyes. “And what did we say about not laying blame anymore?”

She smiled slowly, then nodded. “You’re right,” she murmured.

“I am,” he said, smiling at his own arrogance, and she laughed. Then he released her chin and held out his hand. “Perhaps you’d feel more confident in the waltz if you tried it with a partner.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding astonished.

“Really. May I have this dance, my Duchess?”

Smiling, she curtsied, and then took his hand. “I would be honored.”

Slowly, he raised his hand, then took her waist with his other hand and pulled her closer. There was no music playing, but it didn’t matter. The rhythm came to him, and as if by instinct alone, they began to dance, him leading, her following effortlessly. She was light in his arms, and she moved with the gracefulness that he had seen when she was dancing by herself.

“I’m sorry about Monsieur Souverain,” he said after a moment. “I know he’s tough because he was my instructor as well. That’s why I employed him for the girls, as well. I don’t mean to brag, but I am known in London as a very accomplished dancer.”

“Really?” she laughed softly. “It’s hard to imagine you dancing much. Too much fun, isn’t it?”

“It’s my duty to dance with young ladies,” he said, trying to hide his smile. “Single, unattached gentlemen who don’t dance at balls are abominably cruel, if you ask me. There is already an imbalanced gender ratio at these things, and many young ladies are left to stand in corners, hoping for someone to fill their dance cards. It makes me sad to see that, so I always make a point to dance at balls, although yes, strictly speaking, it is not my favorite activity.”

She smiled up at him. “That is very thoughtful of you.”

“And it is very thoughtful of you to take these dancing lessons, and all these etiquette lessons, in order to make Leah’s debut perfect. I don’t want you to think you’re selfish. Not for a moment.”

She raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. “You called me selfish yourself, Your Grace. That first night when I accidentally snuck into your room. You said, "Your behavior tonight has been reckless, foolish, and selfish.”

Lucien flushed slightly. “Well, that was before I knew you. Now that I know you a little better, I can understand why you behaved as you did. And I don’t think you’re selfish. Reckless, perhaps. But not selfish.”

“Well, thank you,” she said. “And thank you for dancing with me now. You know, this is only my second time dancing with a gentleman.”

He started, shocked by this revelation, and almost misstepped. “How is that possible?” he asked, finding the rhythm again. “You didn’t attend any balls when you were engaged to my brother?”

“One time my parents took me to the local Assembly Rooms,” she said, looking down in sadness again. “But even then, only one gentleman asked me to dance, and whenever anyone else would come near, my parents would tell him I wasn’t dancing.”

“What? Why?”

“I think they were terrified of me developing feelings for someone that wasn’t Henry. Which they must have known was likely, considering that Henry and I really have always acted like brother and sister.”

Lucien felt a flare of anger at her parents, and he shook his head, scowling darkly. “Your parents have a lot to answer for! Only taking their daughter to a dance once in her whole life?”

“Yes. And it certainly wasn’t a waltz that I danced there, although Georgina and Henry were good enough to teach me the steps.” She looked up at him shyly through her eyelashes. “Actually, I was a bit surprised that you wanted to dance this with me. It doesn’t seem like the kind of dance of which you would approve.

“I don’t mind it, though strictly speaking it is not the most proper of dances,” Lucien said with a resigned sigh. “But it is all the rage in London now, and it’s important for you to know it. Anyway, I had an idea that we should dance it together at one of the opening balls. The intimacy of the dance will give us a chance to prove to the ton that we are in love.”

“That makes sense,” she said, and while her voice sounded neutral, he noticed that she was blushing again, and that she once more couldn’t meet his gaze. At the same time, she became stiffer in his arms, and over the next minute, she trod several times on his feet, muttering apologies each time.

It’s not that she can’t dance, he realized. It’s that she gets stiff and clumsy whenever she gets too much in her own head.

“Try to relax,” he said lightly, looking down at her. “You’re a natural dancer, but you doubt yourself, and then you become stiff. Just remember: I think you’re a tremendous dancer.”

“It’s hard to relax when I have to count my steps,” she said doubtfully.

“Just look into my eyes,” he said. “And trust me. A good partner will lead confidently enough that you won’t have to count your steps.”

She tilted her head to the side. “So what happens when I’m partnered with someone not as confident as you?”

“You could always refuse to dance with anyone else.” He smiled slyly at her. “You’re my wife, after all, and I’m terribly in love with you, remember? A possessive, protective husband like me surely wouldn’t want his wife dancing with anyone else. That can be your excuse.”

She laughed, and her dancing became fluid again. “Perhaps I want to dance with another gentleman,” she said after a moment. “What then?”

He glanced down at her, shocked and embarrassed by the flash of jealousy that had overcome him at her words, only to see that she was smiling wickedly up at him, her eyes glittering. She’s teasing me!

He laughed throatily and then, quite unexpectedly, dipped her low, so that she cried out in surprise and delight as her head and torso went back. But he was strong, and he held her steady as he brought his lips closer to her ears.

“Take it back,” he demanded. “Or I won’t let you up.”

“I take it back!” she said at once, her laughter filling the empty ballroom, her cheeks pink and her eyes alight with excitement. “You’re the only one I ever want to dance with!”

He grinned, then scooped her back up and into his arms and held her close. “Why would you want to dance with other gentlemen when they can’t do that?” he murmured, and she laughed again, her fingers digging into him a little harder than was strictly necessary.

It sent a jolt of electric energy through him, to feel her clinging to him like that, as if just a little bit afraid but also knowing she could always rely on him to catch her; to keep her safe.

“I didn’t actually scare you, did I?” he asked, holding her away at arm’s length to peruse her face. “I’m sorry if I did.”

“No, it’s alright,” she said, still breathless. “It was nice.” She was gazing at him more softly now, her lips parted, her long black hair a mess around her. She had never looked so beautiful or so happy, so full of joy and life, and for a wild, inexplicable moment, Lucien wanted to kiss her.

Both of them stilled, and the room became quiet, except for the sounds of their ragged breathing. She was no longer smiling. Instead, an intense, serious expression had come over her, and her gaze had become hard, almost blazing.

Lucien felt as if something deep inside of him was settling down, as if it were deciding to rest after years of weariness. Looking at her, he felt as if all the burdens that he had shouldered for so long could maybe be put down, even for a moment, and that he could just enjoy his life and her presence in it.

That was the feeling she gave him: of contentment. And why shouldn’t he act on that? Why shouldn’t he kiss her? It would certainly make relations between them easier if they had a normal, affectionate marriage.

And that was to say nothing of her ethereal, nymph-life beauty tonight, of these feelings that had been building inside of him for weeks, feelings that he didn’t fully understand but which seemed important, necessary even, and urgent.

He leaned toward her, and she closed her eyes, as if expecting him to kiss her.

But seeing this, he stopped, and fear seized him. What am I doing? If I kiss her now, I will be behaving exactly how I always say I shouldn’t: recklessly, foolishly, and selfishly.

I’d be kissing her for my own pleasure and enjoyment, risking our tentative friendship and the plans we’ve made to help Leah over something rash and not thought out, and all without taking her desires into consideration.

With great difficulty, he pulled back and released her. Her eyes blinked open again, and she gazed up at him curiously. He forced himself to smile and ask jovially, “Is there any other dance with which you’re having difficulty?”