Page 82 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

He was a man haunted, and she was…

Well, she was a goddess.

She tilted her head, laughing, as someone spoke to her, and placed her hand lightly on their arm. Connection. Every time she moved or said anything, she sought connection. And he had been trying to give her what she needed without risking breaking her, but now he feared he had only made everything worse.

Nicholas sidled up beside him. “What are you waiting for?”

“Hm?”

“She’s right there.” Nicholas nodded at Jessamine. “And you’ve been staring after her like a lovesick hound for the past twenty minutes.”

Andrew scowled, flicking one of the vines around the pillars away. The room looked like it belonged in a fairy bower, and he would have expected to hate it, except for the fact that it only made Jessamine stand out in contrast all the more. The ladies were dressed like butterflies, and she was the solitary spot of darkness amongst them all.

“The first dance is beginning soon,” Nicholas said. “You should ask her to dance before someone else does.”

The thought of Jessamine in another man’s arms made Andrew growl under his breath.

“Precisely,” Nicholas said, nodding as though Andrew had said something profound. “And that is why you should act on your impulses instead of sitting back here and pretending they don’t exist. Have you so much as bedded her?”

Andrew’s jaw tightened. “That is none of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a no, then. Really, Andrew? A lady as beautiful as that? Look, there, she’s smiling at you.”

Andrew did look, and the sight nearly brought him to his knees. Jessamine had a particular way of smiling when she meant it, with her entire body. Such a thing ought to have defied nature itself, and yet, somehow, it did not.

Ordinarily, she directed that smile at William, but today she had aimed it at him.

He sucked in a breath. His legs moved even without intending them to. He’d intended to give her the run of the ballroom without his interference. After greeting the guests with her, as convention dictated, he had let her flutter about with well-timed compliments and observations. She played the guests like a fiddle, and he had been much better suited to watching.

Not any more. He needed to be by her side, her little hand in his, her face upturned. By God, he needed her more than he had ever needed anyone.

“Your Grace!” A hurried through the crush, coming to stand beside him. He stopped, feeling the eyes of the assembled on him.

“Yes?” he asked curtly.

“It’s William, sir.” The maid’s eyes were wide, afraid. “He’s gone.”

Jessamine watched as Andrew strode from the room, a lump in her throat. She’d employed all her feminine wiles to tempt him across the room toward her, and she had thought it was working.

Until now.

It would have worked, she was sure, if something more pressing had not come up. But it felt as though every time they became closer, something came up. Something unavoidable that he could not escape. And he inevitably chose that.

A small worm of worry coiled in the base of her stomach. Could something be wrong? The maid had gone to Andrew, which suggested the issue involved him, not her. She’d instructed Lucy to let her know if there were any issues with William.

Still…

Temperance touched her arm. “Is everything all right?”

“I should go and see, I think,” Jessamine said, and offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Do you mind dancing the next without me?”

“Well, I hadn’t planned on partnering with you, anyway,” Temperance teased, and shook her head. “You should go.”

Jessamine didn’t need telling twice.

Andrew burst into William’s nursery. Lucy lay on the floor, breathing but unconscious. The cradle was empty.

A cold calm washed over him. He cast another glance about the room, instructed the hysterical maid to tend to the nursemaid, and left. He sprinted back down the stairs, almost colliding with Jessamine. She gripped his arms.