Dancing with the Duke (6 page)

Alex’s two closest friends also attended many
of those events, even going so far as to dance with her and seek
out her company. She suspected they were trying to determine if she
was good enough for Alex, and she tried not to let her own doubts
as to her worthiness show.

It was difficult, though, to keep those
doubts pushed to the back of her mind when Alex’s attention started
to wane after a month had passed. The fact that he’d begun to
distance himself from her after he’d taken her aside to ask whether
her monthly courses had come, left her imagining that his previous
interest was only due to the fact he’d worried she was carrying his
child. She continued to hold her head high, though, refusing to
change back into that shy, uncertain teen he’d known seven years
before.

One morning, six weeks after their one night
together, Charlotte walked into the drawing room and was surprised
to find Alex there. He’d been very careful in all that time only to
see her away from the house.

He turned when she entered the room and
smiled. “I was hoping you’d hold true to form and wake early.”

He crossed the room to close the door. He
seemed to be in a very strange mood, but Charlotte couldn’t say
what was wrong. That irrepressible part of her that told her his
interest in her was too good to be true reared its ugly head. She
tried but couldn’t hold it back.

“Is something amiss?” she asked.

He closed the distance between them. She
expected him to reach for her or to take hold of her hands, but he
stopped a few feet away.

“We cannot continue as we have been for the
past few weeks,” he said, his expression grave.

Grief washed over her, and Charlotte had to
close her eyes against the assault. She’d been terrified this would
happen. She could never have lied to him, but she wished now that
she had fallen pregnant that night.

When she could bring herself to look at him
again, she knew she had guessed correctly. The hesitant expression
on his face told her all she needed to know. He was trying to let
her down gently.

She started to turn away from him, but he
reached for her arm and kept her in place.

“What are you thinking, Charlotte? Surely
you’re not disappointed?”

She firmed her resolve and met his concerned
gaze. “I understand,” she said, seeking to reassure him that she
wasn’t hopelessly crushed when all she wanted to do was curl up in
a small ball and cry. “I have enjoyed the past few weeks with you,
but it is time to put an end to this courtship.”

She expected to see his relief at her words.
Instead, an unnatural stillness surrounded him.

“I had hoped to end our courtship this
morning,” he said when he finally spoke.

Oh, this was too painful. She wasn’t sure how
she managed to continue to breathe. She had to get out of that room
and away from Alex before she embarrassed herself. She managed a
curt nod, a smile that felt wooden, and looked down at where he
still held her arm. When he released her, she turned to leave.

“I’m not finished, Charlotte. Whether you
want to hear it or not, I’d like to finish what I came here to
say.”

She shook her head and continued. Her hand
was on the doorknob when she heard him move behind her. His hand
against the door halted her progress. They stood that way for a
time. Charlotte wanted so much to lean back against him, but she
knew she couldn’t, not ever again. That knowledge made the current
situation that much more painful.

“I had hoped that you would agree to this
willingly,” Alex said, his breath soft and warm against her neck.
“But if I must, you should know that I will give you no other
choice.”

She shook her head. He was making no sense
whatsoever. She’d already given him his freedom.

He took a step back when she turned to face
him, and it took her a moment to recognize what she was seeing on
his face. Pain. But why?

She would let him say what he needed to say,
and then she would return to her room and fall apart.

“I’ve given you your freedom. What more do
you want from me?”

He shook his head, the movement a quick,
jerky one. “I don’t want my freedom.”

Now she was completely confused. “But you
just said you wanted to end our courtship.”

The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Yes,
but that was because I’d hoped to replace it with a betrothal.
Staying away from you is killing me, Charlotte. I hate only being
able to see you for a few hours each evening.”

Slowly, his words penetrated through the fog
of her despair.

“You don’t want to stop seeing me?”

“No, Charlotte, I most definitely do not. I
want to see much, much more of you. Every day for the rest of our
lives.”

She started to smile then stopped as another
horrible thought occurred to her.

“You don’t have to do this because you
compromised me.”

He’d grasped her arms and gave her a slight
shake. “You, Charlotte Grant, are the most exasperating woman I
have ever met. If I wanted to marry you only because I felt I had
to, would I have wasted these past few weeks courting you?”

This was all much too good to be real. “No?”
she replied, hesitant.

“No,” he said, his voice firm. “I’d hoped to
show you that I’ve grown to care for you.”

Her wariness was beginning to give way to
wonder. “You care for me?”

“I love you, Charlotte.” To her disbelief, he
dropped to one knee and took hold of her hand. “Charlotte Grant,
will you please put me out of my misery and consent to be my
wife?”

This time she couldn’t hold back her tears,
only these were tears of joy.

“I was so scared…” She took a deep breath,
but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “Oh, yes, Alex. Yes, I
will marry you.”

He stood and dragged her into his arms. “You
scared the hell out of me.”

“Not half as much as you scared me,” she
confessed.

He took her face into his hands, his thumbs
brushing away the tears. “Do you still have that tendre for
me?”

His uncertainty was adorable. “I love you,
Alex. I came to London determined to make you mine, but when that
appeared to be happening I was afraid I was seeing only what I
wanted to see.”

“Oh, you were seeing it all right. I do have
one additional request of you.”

“Anything,” she said.

“You may not like it.”

She shook her head. “Anything, so long as we
can be together.”

“I was hoping for a small, but quick wedding.
I have already been in torment for the past six weeks. I am not
sure how much longer I can wait to make you mine again…in all
ways.”

She blushed, remembering all too well that
night. She, too, couldn’t wait to repeat it.

“Are dukes allowed to have small weddings?
Won’t everyone in the ton want to be there?”

“My dear, dukes are allowed to do whatever
they damned well please.”

The heat in his eyes ignited her own
desire.

“I don’t know,” she said with a small shake
of her head. “Tongues will wag if we marry quickly.”

He barely suppressed a growl before dragging
her against him. She went willingly.

That was how Lucy and Dowager Duchess of
Clarington found them not long after. Alex groaned in
disappointment as he pulled away from her. Charlotte, however, was
too happy to care.

I hope
you enjoyed reading
Dancing with the Duke
. If so, please
consider sharing it with a friend.

This novella is a prequel to the Landing a
Lord series. If you’d like to learn more about my books and how to
connect with me online, please visit my website at
http://www.suzannamedeiros.com
.
To learn when I have a new release coming, you can sign up for my
newsletter at
http://eepurl.com/nmliD
.

Turn the page to read a preview of
Loving
the Marquess
— book 1 in the Landing a Lord series — which will
be released in January 2013.

A bonus excerpt of Vivienne Westlake’s
A
Marquess for Christmas
follows.

Excerpt

She is on the verge of losing everything…

To save her home and keep her two younger
siblings safe, Louisa Evans must turn to the head of the family
that ruined hers.

He needs an heir…

The Marquess of Overlea is starting to show
signs of having inherited the same illness that killed his father
and older brother. To prevent the marquisate from falling into the
hands of an unscrupulous cousin, Overlea must secure an heir before
that illness also claims him.

But he is determined not to be the father of
that heir…

Overlea’s plan is simple — marry the
practical, yet desperate, Miss Evans and hold Louisa to her promise
to provide him with an heir. But he waits until after they are
married to tell his wife that he intends to have another man father
that heir. His careful plan becomes complicated by an almost
desperate need to claim Louisa for himself and an outside threat
that proves even more dangerous than his illness.

Kent

1806

A knock at the door in the middle of the
night never brought good news. Casting a longing glance at the
welcoming bed she’d been about to sink into, Louisa Evans tied the
sash of her dressing gown. Pushing aside the weariness that
threatened to drag her down, she hurried downstairs.

She expected to find one of her neighbors
when she opened the door and was surprised to find, instead, a
stranger. A very tall man with dark hair who sagged against the
door frame, his eyes closed. She shivered as the cool autumn air
cut through her nightgown and dressing gown.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

When he didn’t reply she wondered if he were
foxed and had somehow stumbled across their cottage. She placed a
hand on his arm to gain his attention and repeated her
question.

His eyes opened and he pinned her with a gaze
that was dark and penetrating.

“I require assistance…” he managed to say
before closing his eyes again.

He swayed slightly and started to slide down
the doorframe. Moving instinctively, Louisa had her shoulder under
his arm in a moment, steadying him as he collapsed. He was much
larger than she, and for a second she thought she would collapse
with him.

She straightened and stared down, stunned, at
where he sat propped against the doorframe. Hesitating only a
moment, she leaned over him to smell his breath and detected a
faint hint of alcohol. She brought a hand to his forehead and was
alarmed to find he had a fever.

Another blast of the night air,
uncharacteristically cold this early in September, had her
shivering in earnest now. She would have to move the stranger
inside and close the door. She didn’t know what was wrong with him,
but with his fever he couldn’t afford to catch a chill. She wasn’t
strong enough, however, to carry him inside on her own.

Her decision made, she hurried upstairs and
rapped on her brother’s door. When he didn’t answer, she entered
the room and shook him awake.

“What’s the matter?” he mumbled, his eyes
still closed.

“I need your help. There’s a man downstairs
who is ill. He collapsed on our doorstep.”

John jolted awake at the mention of the
stranger. At eighteen, he was seven years younger than her, but
since their father had died he’d decided it was his duty to protect
the family.

He dressed quickly and followed her
downstairs to where the man sat, still propped up, in their
doorway.

“Who is he?”

Louisa shook her head. “I don’t know, but
he’s ill and the cold can’t be good for him. Help me bring him
inside so I can close the door.”

They managed to rouse the man enough to help
him to his feet, supporting his weight between them. He was
unsteady and their progress was slow, but at her insistence they
managed to bring him to her room, which was still warm from her
recently banked fire. He collapsed on her bed with a groan.

“I’ll see to his comfort,” she told John. “I
saw a horse outside that must belong to our guest. He’ll need to be
cared for.”

John set his shoulders and she knew he was
going to insist that she look after the horse. She cut him off
before he could protest the impropriety of the situation.

“Do you actually believe this man is in any
condition to do me harm?”

Her brother hesitated, but it was clear the
stranger had lost consciousness. Grumbling something under his
breath about bossy sisters, he turned and left to see to the
horse.

Louisa occupied herself with rebuilding a
fire in the small fireplace before turning to look at the man lying
on her bed. Despite her assurances to her brother, she was nervous.
She’d cared for their father during his long illness, but this man
was nothing like their father.

She approached the bed and looked down at
him, and her heart fluttered as she realized just how handsome he
was. His hair was a dark brown, almost black, framing a face that
had no doubt caused many other hearts to beat faster, as well.
Despite his fever, he was very pale, his skin drawn taught over
high cheekbones and a strong jaw that was already showing a hint of
stubble.

She swallowed hard as her gaze traveled down
the length of him. He was asleep, but his presence filled the room.
She shook her head to clear it and turned away, telling herself
that caring for this man would be no different than caring for her
father as she went to her washstand and poured water from the
pitcher into the washbasin. Concentrating on the familiar task, she
set the basin on her bedside table, dipped a washcloth into the
water, and wrung it out. Her hands were not quite steady as she
washed his face, hoping the cool water would bring him a measure of
comfort. Her movements were brisk, but slowed when he moaned. His
eyes opened and she froze as his black, inscrutable gaze caught and
held hers.