One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

“Not for nothing.” He scratched his neck, and her hand slid from his shoulder. “I don’t mind the gossip. I’ve never given a damn what people think of me. It’s amusing—and sometimes useful—to be feared.”


Or at least it had been, until talk of murder was added to the mix, and he’d lost the trust of his wife before he’d any real opportunity to earn it.

“Spencer?” She took one of his hands in hers. “As we are baring our secrets, I feel I should confess something. I may have been responsible for starting a most pernicious rumor about you. Worse than any other.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yes.” Biting her lip, she gave him a doleful look. “I may have told a group of impressionable young ladies that by the light of the full moon, you transform into a ravening hedgehog.”

He struggled to maintain a reproachful silence.

She continued, “Well, if it helps, I do regret it now.”

“Do you?”

“Oh, yes. It was an insult to hedgehogs everywhere.”

A throaty laugh shook free from his chest, and it felt damned good. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks.

“So …” she said, “this has been the case all your life?”

He nodded. “For as long as I recall.”

“And it’s not just ballrooms?”

“No.” He only wished it were so simple. “Anywhere with too many people and not enough space. Arenas. The theater.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Weddings. Musicales.”

“Oh.” Her face softened. “And schoolrooms? Those, too?”

He gave a tense shrug. Damn, but it galled him to realize how much he’d sacrificed over the years. It hurt worse that she’d realized it, too. “I know, I know. Everyone else seems to manage those settings with ease. That only makes it more irritating. I don’t know what the devil is wrong with me. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like … like a fish with no talent for swimming.”

Her fingers went to his temple, feathering through his hair. “Oh, Spencer …”

“No.” He batted her hand away. “Amelia, don’t. For God’s sake, don’t pity me. I can bear anything but that. It’s an annoyance, I’ll grant you, but not a deprivation. In the absence of attending frivolous parties, I’ve mastered some very useful talents. Cards. Horsemanship.”

“You’ve read a great many books.”

“Yes. That, too. I’m happy with my life as it is.”

“Are you?” She looked doubtful.

“Yes,” he told her honestly. Because at this particular moment of his life, he was. Things had been strained between them, to put it mildly, since Jack’s visit. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed simply talking with her. He’d forgotten how good it felt to laugh. She had a way of dragging his demons out of the shadows and … not ignoring them, or making them over into gleeful cherubs … but simply tweaking their ears. Looking them in the eye with that oh-so-Amelia combination of good sense and dry humor.

“Yes, I’m happy,” he repeated. “I’m happy with my life as it is. Right now.”

Footsteps crunched on gravel nearby.

“I think someone’s coming,” she whispered. “Perhaps we should—”

He kissed her. Firmly at first—until the shock wore off and she realized that she was being kissed. And then sweetly, tenderly—because she deserved his care. Holding her chin between the pads of his thumb and second finger, he urged her close. He explored her mouth with his lips and tongue, patiently coaxing her to open for him. Wooing her into full participation. Because she was worth that effort, too. This was a woman who ought to have been courted by a legion of suitors. How was it she’d remained unmarried all those years, standing on the fringes of ballrooms? How was it he’d never picked her out from the crowd himself and asked her to dance?

God damn, he was a fool. But a very lucky one.

All too soon, she pulled back. “I think they’re gone.” She flashed a look over her shoulder, and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “Quick thinking, that. You really are brilliant at disguising this problem. Honeymooners are forgiven all manner of rude behavior.”

“Well, then there’s the solution. We’ll spend the rest of our lives on permanent honeymoon.”

She laughed, as though it were a ridiculous notion. He wished it weren’t.

“Honestly, Spencer. I can’t help but wonder … Surely something can be done. Have you tried—?”

“Yes.”

“But I didn’t finish my …”

“It doesn’t matter. If there’s something you can think of to try, I’ve tried it. Nothing has worked. This is just part of who I am, Amelia. I reconciled myself to it long ago.”

“Oh.” Her chin ducked in disappointment. “I see.”

Frustrated, Spencer rubbed his face with his palm. Of course, this was now—not some long-ago time. He was married. He had a ward. And as much as he might have reconciled himself to a life without social events, was it fair of him to ask Amelia to reconcile herself to it, too? Hospitality and friendship … those things were part of who she was. Not to mention the obligations they would have for Claudia’s season. A bitter taste filled his mouth, making him grimace.