Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)(31)
Author: Tessa Dare

Good heavens. How was it possible they’d made so little progress? Those doors to the garden were still some twenty yards away.

The man pumped Griff’s free arm vigorously. “Haven’t seen you for ages, old devil. Rumor had it you’d finally succumbed to the pox.” He shot a toothy smile in Pauline’s direction. “Who’s this?”

“Miss Simms, of Sussex. She’s in Town as my mother’s guest. Miss Simms, this is Mr. Frederick Martin.”

The gentleman bowed and gave Griff a conspiratorial wink. “Rather possessive of her, aren’t you?”

“She’s new in London. Just getting her feet.”

In the corner, the small orchestra struck up the first strains of a waltz.

“Surely you’ll allow me to steal her for one dance.” Martin extended a white-gloved hand and bowed over it. “Miss Simms, may I have the pleasure?”

Panic jumped in Pauline’s chest. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Halford won’t mind. When it comes to the ladies, he’s always generous.”

Pauline wasn’t sure what the man meant by that remark, but she was certain she didn’t like it.

“She’s not dancing with you.” The duke gave a heavy sigh. He sounded as though even he couldn’t believe the words he was about to speak. “She’s promised this dance to me.”

With that, he pulled her away from Mr. Frederick Martin and led her onto the dance floor.

Pauline tried not to let fear show on her face. “What? Wait. I don’t even know how to—”

“Just follow my lead. It’s the only way to make a quick escape.”

They waltzed their way around the ballroom. Because of the way his sleeve was caught on her gown, Griff had to hold his arm jutting out like a chicken wing. Without his hand on her back, he couldn’t lead her properly. Pauline was left to chase him across the dance floor in tiny, tiptoeing steps.

At last they reached the doors to the garden.

“I’ve never seen that waltz before,” an elderly matron remarked.

“A Hungarian variation, madam.” He held open the door for Pauline. “All the rage in Vienna.”

She couldn’t stop giggling as they stumbled into the garden. “That was resourceful. I’ll give you that.”

“Now give me my freedom,” he said. “Get me loose.”

“You act as though this is my fault. It’s your button. And it only snagged because you were too protective. If you’d allowed me to stumble a bit, we could have been on our way home by now.”

She reached between them with her free arm, but quickly realized the situation could only be adequately inspected if her fingers were bare.

She thrust her hand out to him. “My glove. Help me off with it.”

He loosed the ribbon garter at her elbow first, then set to work on the dozen tiny buttons stretching from her elbow to her wrist. It had taken ten minutes of struggling with fingers and teeth to close them earlier that evening.

He had them undone in ten seconds.

She lifted a brow. “Something tells me you’ve done this before.”

“A time or two.”

Or a thousand, she supposed.

He took her wrist, lifted her hand to his mouth, and caught the middle finger of her glove with his teeth. Then he slowly pulled.

The motion was wickedly sensual. Entrancing, even. When her hand slid free, she had no idea what to do with it.

“Oh. Yes.” She felt between them, exploring the place where his button met her bodice seam. It seemed hopelessly twisted, by touch. Her attempts to make a visual inspection were thwarted—her artificially inflated bosom kept getting in the way.

“I could see it better if not for this ridiculous corset,” she said.

“I’m good at removing those, too.”

Pauline threw him a chastening look but he didn’t catch it. He was too busy glazing her br**sts with his heated stare.

“Ahem.”

“Sorry. I’m a man. We get distracted.”

She flushed, pleased despite all her attempts not to be. Men might be distractible by nature, but they were hardly ever distracted by her.

“Fortunately,” she said, “I still have a few powers of concentration left. You should remove your coat. Then you’d have both hands free. And if we still can’t work the button loose, I can wait here while you go in search of scissors or a blade.”

“I knew you were clever.”

He tried shrugging his free arm out of his coat but made little progress. It was so tightly fitted, and his arms weren’t lean.

“I need my valet for this.”

“Let me play valet. I am a servant, after all.”

He extended his wrist to her. “Hold the cuff.”

She obeyed, and they began their second absurd dance of the evening: The duke flailing his arm while she attempted to hold the sleeve steady—and make sure that his other cuff didn’t rip free and destroy her bodice. Every time he tugged on his sleeve, he just pulled Pauline forward. They ended up pivoting in a tight, useless circle. If their first waltz was a Hungarian variation, this one must hail from the moon.

He growled. “I should see about switching to a substandard tailor.”

“Perhaps if I tried to work it loose this way.”

Turning to face him as best she could, she slid her hand under his lapel, skimming over the silk front of his waistcoat and the firm wall of muscle beneath. Her heart stuttered when she brushed something that felt distressingly nipplelike—but she proceeded undaunted, working her hand up to his shoulder in an attempt to cleave the garment from his body.

“Lift your arm a bit.”

He flinched, as if ticklish.

“Be still. I’m good at this, remember?” By twisting her arm and wriggling her fingers, she managed to ease her fingers higher. “No one can reach as high as I can.”

“Good God, Simms. My arm is not a foal to be birthed.”

“Almost there.” She slid her fingers over the crest of his shoulder and partway along his sleeve.

“Simms.”

She looked up. They were standing mere inches apart. His lips were very, very close to hers.

Her fingers involuntarily flexed, digging into his biceps. He winced.

“Oh.” She sucked in her breath, apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten your wound.”

“It’s not my arm, Simms. It’s everything. We’re alone in the garden while a ball goes on. I can’t stop staring at your br**sts, and your hand is . . . violating my topcoat. It is time to face hard truths. As attempts at avoiding entanglement go, this one isn’t working. At all.”