Page 41 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

William looked at her with squinted eyes, watching the way her eyes darted away, the way her posture remained tightly wound, and the bright, unnatural flush painting her cheeks.

“Seraphina,” he said, stepping a fraction closer. “Do I make you nervous by any chance?”

Seraphina’s eyes snapped wide, her breath locking in her throat. For a second, she just stared at him before darting her gaze away toward the windows.

Nervous? Of him?

The very idea was preposterous. It was laughable. She was a woman who had spent her entire life governing herself by logic, deliberately keeping emotional foolishness at arm’s length. She had never been one to swoon over a man, nor had she ever entertained the romantic notions of love that consumed women like her sister. She did not even know what love was supposed to feel like, nor did she care to discover it. To suggest that a single man could suddenly unravel her entire rational composure simply by standing near her was an insult to her intellect.

It was utterly ridiculous.

She forced a stiff laugh, turning her head back to face him squarely.

“You should not get ahead of yourself, Your Grace,” she said. “Just because you are a handsome, highly eligible Duke does not mean every woman who crosses your path is going to find you irresistibly charming, or that you can simply sweep any lady off her feet.”

William stopped. A lazy smile curved his lips, his eyes dancing with amusement. He took another step toward her.

“So...” he murmured. “...you are admitting that you find me handsome?”

Seraphina froze, realizing the trap she had walked right into. Another wave of heat scorched her cheeks, and for the first time all evening, her usual silver-tongued composure completely failed her.

“I... well, I merely have functioning eyesight,” she stuttered out, taking a small, hasty step back as he closed the distance. “I would never lie about an objective physical observation. A palace is imposing, a painting is refined, and you possess a pleasing... symmetry of features. That is a statement of simple fact, not an admission of being charmed.”

“An objective physical observation,” William repeated, stepping right back into her space. “I must say, Seraphina, that is the most clinical compliment I have ever received. I am flattered.”

“It was not a compliment,” Seraphina snapped, her mind whirling as she tried to regain the upper hand. “It was an assessment.”

“An assessment that required you to look closely enough to judge my... symmetry,” William countered, leaning down just an inch so his gaze was level with hers. “Which brings us right back to my original question.”

Seraphina opened her mouth to deliver a rebuttal, but the proximity of his face made her thoughts scatter like loose papers in the wind.

“I am indisposed,” she blurted out, holding up a hand to stop his advance before she lost her mind entirely. “I told you from the beginning. It is a fever. That is why I am flustered, that is why I lost my footing, and that is why I am standing here arguing with you. It has nothing to do with your symmetry, and it certainly has nothing to do with nervousness. I am simply suffering from a sudden, feverish chill.”

William stared down at her, tilting his head slightly. “You did mention,” he said quietly.

“I did,” she insisted, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “If I remain standing here in your arms, attempting to spin in circles, I am likely to make it worse or pass the contagion on to you. A Duke cannot afford to be laid low by a fever. You have responsibilities.”

William let out a soft chuckle as he straightened. “How kind of you.”

“Which is why I think it is best if I lie down for a bit and rest for the night. We can continue this lesson when my constitution has recovered.”

William studied her face for another second before bowing his head. “If that is what you wish,” William said softly. “Though we cannot delay for too long. The first major ball of the Season is in less than two weeks. We need to have these steps down until they are second nature before we step onto a public floor.”

Seraphina looked up. “I will be ready. I am a quick study when my physical health permits.”

“I have no doubt of that,” William said. He eyed her thoughtfully. “If you prefer, I can arrange for a proper dance instructor from town to come to the estate tomorrow. Someone who can teach you.”

“No,” Seraphina replied instantly, the answer slipping out before she could stop it.

William raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” she repeated more firmly. “I have no desire to embarrass myself further by letting a complete stranger know that I do not know her basic steps. You already know the truth. It is far more efficient for you to teach me.”

“Very well,” he agreed softly. “Then I shall remain your instructor. But next time, Duchess, we practice until you can complete a full turn without blaming your feet.”

“Agreed,” Seraphina said softly.

William bowed his head slightly, giving her a nod before turning toward the doors of the drawing room. He paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder at her one last time.