Victor scrutinised the crowded ballroom below him. Every debutante and her mama were looking in his direction. That was to be expected. A single duke was as rare as a four-leaf clover, and just as lucky for the young woman who managed to ensnare him.
He’d much rather be back on the Continent, forgetting all about debutantes, balls, social events and everything else that made up the season, but duty demanded he find a wife and produce an heir, so he would do what was expected of him. Hopefully, he’d quickly find a suitable future duchess and this ordeal would soon be over.
He looked around the room. His sweeping gaze came to an abrupt halt.
What was she doing here? Felicity Wentworth. The only young woman in England who did not see the value in capturing a duke.
An emotion he refused to name rushed through him. It was the same one he thought he’d exorcised away during his nine months on the Continent indulging in every vice that came his way. And yet here it was, back again, stronger and more determined to grab his attention. All because he had caught sight of the woman who had torn his heart out of his chest at the end of last season.
Inhaling deeply, he lifted his head higher and refused to even think about her. Despite himself, his gaze once more moved in her direction.
Damn it all, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even from this distance she appeared to glow with a luminous quality. Her thick blond hair was twisted and curled into an intricate style, but for him it never looked better than when it was loose around her shoulders.
She was dancing and laughing with Bambridge, and memories of how she had once laughed with him filled his mind, of how those full lips and sparkling blue eyes had once sent him that same mischievous grin. By God, he had once loved her more than he thought it possible for a man to love a woman, but not anymore, and never again.
Her presence here tonight meant she was still single and in search of a husband. It was no less than she deserved and he would spare her no pity. Other men had obviously seen immediately what it had taken him an entire season to realise. She was a coquette who trifled with men’s affections. As if to prove his point, she smiled and batted her long black eyelashes at her partner as he led her back to the edge of the dance floor.
She was instantly surrounded by a group of men and he hoped for their sake they had more foresight than him and realised what a treacherous minx she was before they, too, found themselves fleeing to the Continent, their heart broken and their faith in women shattered.
But he was not here to relive past miseries. They would stay firmly where they belonged, in the past. He was here to find a wife, and Felicity Wentworth could go to the devil.
Log in or create an account to read the next chapter of "A Dance to Tempt the Duke"
Every month we select a new title from one of our authors so that you can discover new stories, locations and genres for free.