Page 52 of To Steal a Duchess

She closed her eyes briefly. A silly little dream of hers began to arise. When she had been younger, she had dreamed of her first kiss: something intimate, private, beneath a blanket of stars, out on a small boat, seeing coasts or sights she had not seen. Passing lit-up villages, or having somebody tuck her hair behind her ear as they simply floated.

In her mind, Dorian was that man, letting their boat circle around in a private gulf.

Perhaps she could not have that, but he had kissed her twice now, and she knew she had been hurt over his distance. She could not deny that. For a moment, she let herself think about kissing him, about letting herself want him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cold glass of cider being pressed into her palm.

Brianna winked at her from above. “You look like you could use another,” she teased, and Eloise stood up, not even bothering to brush off her skirts, and took it eagerly.

She really could. She had to stop such thoughts.

It was a lively spectacle, and she refused to spend it upset.

“Come on, Your Grace,” Brianna laughed as she nodded to another woman, who held out her hand once Eloise finished her newest drink. “Dance again and let the night take you where it pleases.”

So Eloise let herself all but float back into the circle, her hands held, and she found herself elated once more. Her eyes closed, and she swayed with the music. Her lids half-opened, the stars twinkling awake before her, and it was the most alive she had ever felt⁠—

The music stopped.

A hush fell through the crowd, the dancing dying down bit by bit, as people noticed the silence and stillness.

People noticed the man striding down the walkway into the center, backlit by the lanterns behind him. His gait was strong but not intimidating as it usually was.

“It is him, Mama,” a child near Eloise whispered, tugging on his mother’s hand.

Eloise was still collecting herself from the airy, light moment she’d just had, and her heart lifted into her throat at the tall, handsome man whose eyes were fixed on her. She turned properly, finally brushing off her skirts, but the moment was broken when he held out a hand to greet one of the villagers at the front of the crowd.

The Duke of Oldcliff had arrived, and nobody knew what to do with his presence at their event.

Everyone parted for him, and Eloise, out of habit, stepped back as well, but her foot stumbled on nothing, her unsteadiness visible.

Dorian’s eyes cut to hers.

“Mr. Dodd’s cow is faring well, I hear,” she saw Dorian ask a boy who looked like he’d come right from a barn to the celebration.

The young boy nodded, his smile proud. “It is, Your Grace. My uncle sends his regards and invites you to see his new livestock at your earliest convenience.”

“I will do so.” Dorian nodded and moved through the crowd, nodding at bows and curtsies, entertaining his villagers with polite grace.

There was nothing expectant about it, but there was something twisting in his face the closer he got to the fountain—to Eloise.

“Duchess.” His voice was quiet when he spoke to her, finally reaching her. “You may come home with me now. We do not need to linger.”

It wasn’t an arrogant remark, but Eloise didn’t like it all the same. It was the sort of thing the villagers would overhear and decide that the duke and duchess thought they were too good for this sort of liveliness.

“I want to linger,” she insisted. “The villagers have done nothing wrong. This is important news for them, and they ought to celebrate.”

He raised a brow at her. “Did I once say they should not?” Before she could answer. “No, I did not. I merely wish to take you home.”

“And I wish to stay.” Her voice was firm, but she stumbled again, and she realized that her words ran together a little too much, how loose her hair was, how flushed she must have seemed.

He looked at her and arched a brow ever so softly, as though he saw all of that and had connected the events of the night and her drinking.

He turned to the villagers before nodding at the band of musicians. “Please, everyone, continue your dancing. You are celebrating good things, and I wish you all a good night.”

At that, he pulled Eloise close, and the warmth of his body was too inviting to resist, so she leaned into him, glad for the support.

“I really do not wish to go,” she whispered.