Page 40 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

“Fevers come on quickly,” she insisted, pressing two fingers to her throat where her pulse was jumping wildly. “I have a sudden rise in body temperature, my heart rate is abnormally fast, and I feel lightheaded. It’s a seasonal chill from the rain.”

William stared at her for a moment. Then he reached out and pressed the back of his hand gently to her forehead, then down against her cheek.

His touch was cool, but it only made her face burn hotter.

“Your forehead feels normal,” he noted, his thumb lightly brushing her cheekbone before he pulled his hand back. “Though your cheeks are very red. Are you sure you’re not just nervous?”

“I do not get nervous,” she said stubbornly. “It is a physical illness. But we don’t have time to stop. I need to learn this.”

William let out a soft sigh. “All right. Let’s try the waltz then. It’s smoother, but you have to trust me to guide you.”

He took her hand again and placed his arm firmly around her back, pulling her just a little closer than before.

“A waltz is just a rhythm,” he explained softly, moving his feet in a slow circle across the floorboards and bringing her along with him. “One, two, three. One, two, three. You don’t need to overthink it. You just move when I move. If I step forward, you yield. You don’t have to worry about where your feet land because I won’t let you fall.”

Seraphina tried to focus on her feet, but every time she looked up, his eyes were fixed on hers. The room felt smaller, warmer, and her head was spinning far more than the slow turn of the dance warranted.

‘The fever is definitely getting worse,’ she thought frantically as he guided her through another turn.

“Now,” William murmured, his gaze locking onto hers as he built up momentum. “The turn.”

He swept her into a wider, faster rotation, but Seraphina’s foot caught the bottom of her skirt. Her ankle gave out beneath her, and she lost her footing completely.

“Seraphina!”

In a single motion, William wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, catching her before she could hit the floor again, and dipped her backward into a low swoon to keep her from falling hard.

The sudden rush of motion left Seraphina suspended, the world tilting violently as her head hung back toward the floorboards.

From the absurd angle, all she could see was an inverted expanse of the room and, directly above her, the sharp line of William’s jaw, his brows pulled together as he held her securely in the dip.

For two seconds, she hung there in his hold, her heart thumping madly. When he pulled her smoothly back up to her feet, the sweeping shift in gravity brought them far closer than they had been all evening. Her chest brushed the front of his coat, her palms resting flat against his shoulders for balance.

They were standing close... close enough that she could see the tiny flecks of gold scattered through his eyes, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

Seraphina stared up at him, completely frozen. William did not let her go immediately. His gaze searched her face, tracking the rapid rise and fall of her chest, his eyes lingering on her mouth before rising back to meet hers.

“That...” William said softly. “...is the second time you have nearly fallen in five minutes.”

Seraphina swallowed hard, her mind scrambling to regain control as she looked up at him. “Perhaps,” she retorted. “The fault lies with the instructor. You might simply be a terrible teacher, Your Grace.”

William froze. His eyebrow shot up toward his hairline, and his jaw slackened slightly in astonishment.

“I am a terrible teacher?” he repeated, staring at her with wide eyes. “Seraphina, I am moving at the pace of a slow walk. I have broken down every single count for you.”

“Breaking something down does not automatically make one a good instructor,” she countered, carefully placing her hands on his chest to push herself back a step. William let his arm fall from her waist, though he remained standing close. “A good instructor adapts to the student’s natural aptitudes.”

“The waltz is practically the simplest form of dance in existence!” William said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “It is three counts. One, two, three. It is a continuous, natural circle. A child of six can grasp the rhythm in ten minutes. The problem is not my teaching; the problem is that you are completely distracted. Your mind is anywhere but in this room.”

“It is not a matter of distraction,” Seraphina snapped back, her cheeks burning hotter by the second. “What comes easily to one person does not come easily to another. It is a fundamental truth of human aptitude.”

William crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her with a mix of disbelief and budding amusement. “Are you truly trying to argue that counting to three while walking in a circle is beyond your intellectual capacity?”

“I am saying that different minds process information differently,” she argued stubbornly, smoothing down her skirts to hide the trembling of her fingers. “For instance, I can calculate the trajectory of a falling body or break down the chemical compound of soil in a matter of seconds. Most people find science completely baffling, yet it makes perfect sense to me. Dancing, on the other hand, requires an entirely different set of coordination skills that I have never cultivated. I am simply not good with my feet.”

“You are an intelligent, capable woman,” William pointed out. “I am fairly certain your feet function just fine when you are not trying to overthink them.”

“Overthinking is my natural state,” Seraphina said, her voice rising slightly.