But Lady Elizabeth…
Heavens help him, he’d have to stay away from her to honor their agreement.
Only their bargain. Nothing more.
Her lips parted slightly, then pressed closed. She glanced to where her stepmother held court among the older lords, likely plotting her next pawn’s move.
She looked back at him.
And that was all the permission he needed.
Alasdair smiled, slow and knowing.
It was time for their first lesson.
Chapter Ten
“Excuse me,” the duke said gruffly as he passed her, the brush of his sleeve against hers so light it might have been accidental.
Might have been. But wasn’t.
Elizabeth felt the contact like a spark beneath her gloves. Her breath caught, then held as the man walked on, silent and purposeful, weaving through the crowd with the quiet intensity of someone who didn’t need attention to command it.
He didn’t turn, didn’t glance back. But he paused just enough to make her wonder.
Was that an invitation?
She stared at his retreating form: broad-shouldered, sure-footed, at ease in the way no London gentleman ever quitemanaged. Her spine prickled. The man was infuriating. And yet?—
She reached for her lemonade and drained the glass in one long gulp.
Then, fanning herself, she leaned toward Lady Grisham. “Lady Grisham, may I take a moment to gather myself? I’m feeling a little warm.”
Lady Grisham narrowed her eyes. Her lips parted, doubt already forming into refusal?—
But Wilhelmina stepped in like a well-trained cavalry unit. “Mama! Lady Forbes is here with Sarah. We must greet them, or she’ll think we’ve grown too proud to acknowledge her.”
Without waiting for permission, she looped her arm through her mother’s and began steering her away, with all the cheerful insistence of a daughter too winsome to be refused.
Elizabeth met her sister’s gaze across the crowd. Wilhelmina gave her a subtle nod and a dazzling smile.
No words were needed.
Bless her.
Elizabeth slipped away while the crowd swallowed up her family, her heartbeat thunderous. The ton was a blur around her—the rustle of gowns, the clink of crystal, the strains of music fading as she passed from light into shadow.
She wasn’t sure what this was. Curiosity, certainly. Recklessness, maybe. Desperation, most of all.
But she told herself it was for her sisters. For Wilhelmina. For Daphne. For Victoria. Not for herself. Not for the man whose nearness still burned on her skin.
Her slippers barely made a sound as she followed the path the duke had taken, down the length of the main hall, past murmuring footmen and oil paintings, into a velvet-draped corridor that muffled the world behind her.
And there, in a quiet room, lit low by flickering sconces, stood the Duke of Redmoor, waiting.
Their first lesson was about to begin.
“Ye came,” he declared, mock surprise etched on both his voice and face.