One Dance with a Duke Read Free Page B

I cannot imagine that you are unaware of it, but the d’Orsay name is synonymous with noble poverty. For us, four hundred pounds is a vast sum of money. We simply cannot spare it.”
    “And what do you propose? Do you mean to offer me favors in lieu of payment?” He repaid her shocked expression with a cool remark: “I’m not interested.”
    It was a small lie. He was a man. And she was a buxom woman, poured into a form-fitting dress. Parts of him were finding parts of her vaguely interesting. His eyes, for example, kept straying to her décolletage, so snugly framed by blue silk and ivory lace. From his advantage of height, he could spy the dark freckle dotting the inner curve of her left breast, and time and again, he found his gaze straying to the small imperfection.
    “What a revolting suggestion,” she said. “Do you routinely solicit such offers from the distraught female relations of your debtors?”
    He gave a noncommittal shrug. He didn’t, but she was free to believe he did. Spencer was not in the habit of ingratiating himself, with anyone.
    “As if I would barter my favors for four hundred pounds.”
    “I thought you called it a vast sum of money.”
Well above the going rate for such services
, he refrained from adding.
    “There are some things upon which one cannot put a price.”
    He considered making an academic argument to the contrary but decided against it. Clearly the woman lacked the sense to follow logic. As was further evidenced by her next comment.
    “I ask you to forgive Jack’s debt.”
    “I refuse.”
    “You cannot refuse!”
    “I just did.”
    “Four hundred pounds is nothing to you. Come now, you weren’t even after Jack’s money. He was only caught in the middle as you drove the betting high. You wanted Mr. Faraday’s token, and you have it. Let my brother’s wager be set aside.”
    “No.”
    She huffed an impatient breath, and her whole body seemed to exhale exasperation. Frustration exuded from her every pore, and with it wafted her own unique feminine scent. She smelled nice, actually. No cloying perfume—he supposed she couldn’t afford rich scent. Just the common aromas of plain soap and clean skin, and the merest suggestion that she tucked sprigs of lavender between her stored undergarments.
    Blue eyes locked with his. “Why not?”
    Spencer tempered his own exasperated sigh. He could explain to her that forgiving the debt would do both her brother and her family a great disservice. They would owe a debt of gratitude more lasting and burdensome than any debt of gold, impossible to repay. Worst, Jack would have no incentive to avoid repeating the mistake. In a matter of weeks, the youth would land in even deeper debt, perhaps to the tune of thousands. Spencer had no doubt that four hundred pounds was a large sum to the d’Orsay family, but it would not be a crippling one. And if it purchased Lady Amelia’s brother a greater portion of sense, it would be four hundred pounds well spent.
    All this he might have explained. But he was the Duke of Morland. As much as he’d forfeited for the sake of that title, it ought to come with a few advantages. He shouldn’t have to explain himself at all.
    “Because I won’t,” he said simply.
    She set her teeth. “I see. And there is nothing I can say to persuade you otherwise?”
    “No.”
    Lady Amelia shuddered. He felt the tremor beneath his palm, where his hand pressed against the small of her back. Fearing she might burst out weeping—and wouldn’t
that
be the final polish on this sterling example of awkwardness—Spencer pulled her tightly to him and whisked her into a series of turns.
    Despite his efforts, she only trembled more violently. Small sounds, something between a hiccough and a squeak, emanated from her throat. Against his better judgment, he pulled back to study her face.
    The woman was laughing.
    His heart began to beat a little faster.
Steady, man
.
    “It is true, what the ladies say. You do waltz like