Page 75 of A Temporary Bride for the Duke

Edmund made a beeline for Daisy. She looked up at him with a gasp when he appeared at her side. “You look lovely,” he said simply.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she blushed, before lowering her lashes to hide her eyes. “Thank you.”

Another gentleman approached. His eyes were fixed on Daisy as he reached for the dance card dangling from her wrist. Daisy smiled, stepping forward to hand it over, but Edmund intercepted her mid-motion.

His hand clamped firmly around her wrist, stopping her short. He did not wait for the gentleman to take the card; instead, Edmund tugged the silk ribbon directly from Daisy’s wrist.

The other man blinked, startled. “Your Grace?” he said, his voice high with surprise.

“Her dance card is full,” Edmund declared loudly, hoping his voice would carry and he would not need to repeat himself or banish any further suitors. He stepped directly into the man’s vicinity and looked him in the eye, effectively shielding Daisy from view. “She will not be accepting any other partners. I suggest you try your luck elsewhere.”

He heard Daisy’s gasp behind him but ignored it for the moment.

Without waiting for a reply, Edmund turned his back on the gentleman, dismissing him entirely. He pulled Daisy close, a possessive hand resting lightly on her waist.

Opening the booklet, he did not just write his name; he drew thick, heavy lines through every single remaining blank space on the card. He inked his own name over the top, claiming the first dance and the last dance.

He looked up, his eyes scanning the room. “I feel sure you’ll be thirsty the rest of the evening. Never fear, I shall make sure you are well supplied with sustenance. Then I imagine you’ll be tired; When that happens, I’ll find you a seat.”

Daisy merely gaped at him but made no protest at his plan to monopolize her company. In the eyes of theton, they were betrothed after all, and he had no intention of letting another man breathe her air, let alone touch her hand.

The orchestra began to play, and it was time for the first dance. Edmund held his hand out to Daisy, waiting for her to take it.

“May I have this dance, Lady Daisy?” he murmured, his voice laced with the soft yet authoritative inquiry.

She stared into his eyes, her breath catching in her throat, before taking the hand he offered and letting him lead her to the dancefloor. They stood facing each other, and he knew she was as aware of her surroundings as he was—in other words, not at all.

“You look breathtaking,” he whispered, stepping closer than propriety allowed as they waited for the opening measure.

Daisy blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly. “Your Grace, people are watching…”

“Let them,” he whispered, his gaze locked on hers.

I could get lost in her eyes.

The music started, and he reached out, their fingers touching as they circled each other, curtsied, and then went the other way. There was one more couple in their circle, but Edmund could not have named them even with a pistol to his head.

He could describe in detail the feel of her hand in his as well as the glittering in her bright green eyes that outshone the most garish jewel in the room. He could write sonnets about her golden hair gleaming in the candlelight, exuding a healthy glow in its complicated knot. She was exquisite, and he was unrepentant in his need to openly admire her.

“It is difficult to focus on the steps,” he murmured as the choreography brought them together again, “when all I can see is you.”

Daisy’s cheeks deepened into a vivid crimson. “I... I only know that the room seems far away when we speak like this.”

He could see by the blush on her cheeks and deduced that meant she was just as taken with him as he was with her. There had to be a way to control the way he felt, but he couldn’t see how. Looking into her eyes was like tumbling down the edge of a cliff, knowing full well that the rocks were waiting below, but at that moment, it felt like flying. Even though he would smash himself into a thousand pieces at the bottom, and he’d have no one but himself to blame, Edmund could no more stop himself from fawning over Daisy than he could slow the tumbling descent.

The dance was over all too soon. Edmund took her hand and led her to the drinks table.

“Lady Daisy. How lovely to see you here.”

The Duke had just stepped away for a moment, and Daisy had taken this instance to catch her breath. She had spent the entire evening by Edmund’s side. They danced. They laughed. They had talked a great deal about Lord Harry and how he had not yet forgotten that she’d promised to join them one more time for a freshly caught fish breakfast.

So, as the ball wound to a close and she anticipated his return so they might share the final dance with one another, Daisy was taken by surprise when Lord Dulforth presented himself instead.

“What?” she asked, certain she was mishearing him. The Baron stood before her, looking as self-satisfied as ever. This evening, he had shaved his upper lip clean, and Daisy was stunned not to see his mustache wriggling as he spoke.

“May I have this dance?”

“My dance card is full, my apologies,” she retorted hurriedly.