One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

“Mm-hm.” He nodded thoughtfully at her cle**age. He wasn’t hearing a word she said.

“The same pattern of unicorns. Alternating with rounds of cheese.”

Another vacant nod. “Indeed.”

Amelia’s face heated. Here she was, dreaming of elaborate menus and blathering on about room décor—and he didn’t care. He’d married her for one reason only, and if she’d momentarily forgotten it, the intensity with which he was currently staring at her br**sts would have been a certain reminder. He wanted to bed her, and get an heir. That was all. Despite his assurances to the contrary when he’d proposed, she was here in his home as a glorified broodmare.

No, scratch the “glorified.” He likely treated his broodmares with greater affection.

She stepped back, nearly tripping over the heap of clothing at her feet. No way to pick it up without giving him an even bolder view of her cle**age. Discreetly kicking the garments aside, she put one shoulder to the door panel and prepared to slide it closed. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

His hand shot out to grasp the edge of the door. Amelia pushed anyway, but the slab of oak wouldn’t budge.

“About Claudia,” he said. “She’s very … young.” He sighed. “I wish that had gone differently, downstairs.”

Was this what constituted an apology, in Spencer’s world? It didn’t quite merit absolution in Amelia’s. She nodded. “So do I.”

His gaze seemed to have settled on her hips now, his lips curving in masculine approval. Yes, yes. They were wide and strong. Excellent for breeding, as she’d been informed by many a well-meaning matron in her day.

Amelia cleared her throat. The message in the inarticulate sound was clear: Hullo? I’m up here.

He dragged his eyes back up to her face. But he took his time about it, and as his gaze stroked over her, a pleasant warmth buzzed through her veins. Lord, what a hopeless situation. She enjoyed being lusted after; there was no pretending otherwise.

But she couldn’t stop herself from craving affection in the bargain—even though he’d never offered it, and she’d accepted him knowing that full well. He was a man. Not just a man, but a powerful, attractive duke. He could separate his physical needs from his emotions—but for Amelia, the two were hopelessly entangled. That meant he had all the power.

Not to mention the physical force. As they stood there—her whole strength marshaled to close the door and his one hand holding it open—it occurred to her how easily he could overpower her, if he wished. For God’s sake, he’d lifted her six inches into the air in that ballroom, and she wasn’t especially light.

Her eyes went to the door handle.

“There’s only one latch,” he said, guessing her thoughts. “It’s on my side.”

She swallowed hard. “I see.”

“Don’t worry.” With an arrogant grin, he released his grip on the door and stepped back. “I’ll never lock it.”

Amelia shifted her weight, and the door slid shut with a satisfying bang. She thought she heard him laugh.

Chapter Eleven

Dinner was a miserable business.

Against all reason, Spencer had hoped for a swift improvement in Claudia’s demeanor. Obviously, the fact of his marriage had taken his ward by surprise. But with a few hours to grow used to the idea, perhaps she would embrace Amelia as a welcome addition to the household.

No. No embracing going on tonight.

Spencer sat at the head of the table. Amelia and Claudia faced one another across an arctic expanse of white linen and bevel-cut crystal, but their eyes never met. One would think the fish course had been served live and wriggling, considering the violence with which Claudia stabbed it.

“How was your time in York?” Spencer asked her. “Can I expect good reports from your tutors?”

“I don’t know.” She jabbed at a fillet of turbot. “I was rather a disappointment to my German master.”

“What of your music?”

“The music master was rather a disappointment to me.” Sniffing, she laid down her fork. “The shops were lovely, though.”

“I sent you to York so that you might improve your mind, not distribute your pin money to the local merchants. Why should I bother arranging for tutors if you learn nothing from them?”

Resentful eyes snapped up to his. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”

“Aren’t you hungry, dear?” Amelia interjected in a smooth, conciliatory tone. She nodded at Claudia’s abandoned fish. “You didn’t touch your soup, either.”

The girl still refused to look at her.

“Please excuse me.” Chair legs scraped the floor as Claudia rose to her feet. “I’ve little appetite this evening.”

With that, she fled the room. Spencer braced his hands on the arms of his chair and started to rise. He froze halfway. Should he even bother going after her, or would that only make matters worse?

“No, don’t,” Amelia said, reading his thoughts. “She needs time.”

He lowered himself back into his chair.