He had to leave. He was the very last person she wished to see right now. What if Lady Grisham came to find her? Worse still, what if anyone else in the ton found them both here, alone?
No, Elizabeth had to get him to leave. Now.
“What’s ailing me is none of your concern, Your Grace,” she told him. “If you truly respect a lady, you’ll take your leave.”
The Duke’s eyes twinkled. “Ye think ye can send me away with words alone, my lady?”
“I’m not to be coddled or chased, especially not by a duke who thinks himself above the rules of society,” she retorted, the muscles in her jaw tensing.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Aye, there’s still some fight left in ye yet.”
“Did you come to mock me, too, Your Grace?” she asked, cheeks burning with frustration and shame.
He lifted a brow, mock-offended. “I wouldnae dream of doin’ that, lass.”
“Why should I believe that? You are but another bored nobleman who has nothing better to do but torment hapless debutantes, especially clumsy ones,” she said, surprised at the sudden strength of her voice.
Why didn’t she sound like this when she was in the middle of lords and ladies who didn’t mean her well earlier?
The duke’s eyes twinkled. “Clumsy? I’d rather be clumsy than bow to the ton’s frippery. It takes more grit to show that hidden fire of yers than to play silent like the rest. The ton will nae like it, but that’s their problem,” he said, the small smile staying on his lips.
Infuriating smile.
Yet, it was making her feel warm all over. Not quite the shivering lady who had to walk through the valley of polite society.
Only to stammer.
Only to be laughed at.
Only to fall.
Elizabeth bristled. “Grace and decorum aren’t mere fripperies; they are the very fabric that holds society together. Without them, there’d be nothing but chaos. A lady must mind her manners if she wishes to be heard.”
He tilted his head to the side. “And yet, life’s nae all measured steps and quiet smiles. Sometimes ye’ve got to rattle the cage, make ‘em see ye for more than a proper face. That’s where fire serves ye best.”
She squared her shoulders, “But fire without restraint is recklessness. I’d sooner be underestimated than bring ruin on myself and my sisters.”
On the final part of her sentence, the Duke straightened, as though he’d only now realized that Elizabeth was not merely thinking of herself, but her dear sisters too.
“Ye’d prefer to be a wallflower than claim the space around ye, like the woman ye are, my lady?” he said, his gaze dropping down to her lips.
Her pulse raced in her veins, her entire body magnetized by the intensity in his eyes; the very air that surrounded him intoxicated her, every part of her body aching to inch closer?—
Oh, no. No, no, no, Elizabeth. This man is ruin itself.
Lady Grisham’s words echoed in her head: the duke’s reputation, the company he kept. His rugged, brutish disposition.
She had to get away from him.
“It’s better to be a wallflower, Your Grace,” she told him. “At least then, no one expects me to speak to men like you.”
“Men like me?” he asked.
“Yes. Impertinent men, Your Grace,” she replied.
Then, he chuckled. “There ye go. That’s what they all call me: wild, impertinent, a savage hidin’ beneath fine clothes, just waitin’ to show me true nature. And you… a lady who keeps to the corners of a room, yet looks at the world as if she’s meant to do more than watch it pass her by.”
His gaze swept over her—not lecherous, but discerning.Knowing. It sent a shiver across her spine.