Page 45 of The Earl’s Hoyden

The newfound fact of the heavens dawned on Hannah before she could stop it, followed by the memory of Lucien’s warm lips upon hers and how her heart had nearly pounded out of her chest.

“Lady Jillian.” The Duke of Dudley appeared at her side. “I should like to dance this first set together.”

Jillian turned to him with a pretty smile hovering on the corners of her lips. “Would you dance with me if I was a tree?”

He sighed, not bothering to stifle his irritation. “How could I possibly dance with you if you were a tree?”

She tilted her face as if the chandeliers overhead were sunlight. “To the sway of the wind, and the orchestra the rustling leaves and birdsong.”

As if on cue, the opening notes of the first dance began to tinkle to life.

“Don’t be preposterous,” the duke grated out in a low hiss. “This foolishness must cease. Come, we are to open your ball with a dance.” He extended his hand to her, which she slowly accepted.

She was whisked away from them before they could protest. There was something extraordinarily awful about having seen such a display. It was more than a man crushing the spirit of a woman; it was Jillian’s spirit he sought to destroy. Everything colorful and beautiful and fascinatingly unique about who she was had dulled at that moment. After a lifetime of such treatment, that beautiful light that was Jillian’s creative soul might eventually wink out.

Hannah and the other three women were silent as they watched Jillian gracefully take her place on the dance floor.

“I hate that there isn’t more we can do to stop this,” Elizabeth said softly.

“I could find a way,” Lucy said with a curl of her lips.

“Don’t you dare,” Amy warned half-heartedly before sighing in quiet resignation. “What did you have in mind?”

But Lucy wasn’t listening. She was craning her neck across the room to where a crowd of women bustled around something.

Hannah looked in the same direction. Her stomach dropped, and she realized it wasn’t something but someone.

And that someone was Lucien.

A jewel-toned array of ballgowns swished and swirled as women tried to get closer to him. He bestowed smile after devastating smile to his adoring devotees.

Whatever ached in Hannah’s chest before, now burned like an ember, red-hot and glowing.

“Isn’t that your neighbor?” Amy asked.

“It is,” Hannah replied as if she did not care. But, of course, she did. Far more than she should.

But he was not out for the first dance with any of the women as she’d suspected he would be. Instead, he was walking away from the crowd of eligible ladies.

At least now would present a chance to speak to him.

“Excuse me,” Hannah mumbled and quickly swept through the crowds toward him.

As she neared Lucien, however, he shifted, moving in the opposite direction. At first, she thought this was simply a coincidence until she redirected her steps, and he once more altered his.

He was intentionally evading her.

The realization struck her like a slap.

He was fleeing from her.

Suddenly, she understood the situation for exactly what it was. He had all he needed from her. All the time they had spent together—he had gleaned the proper way to dress, the courage to lead ladies onto the dance floor and how to best converse with them. In those three small areas, he had gone from a man oft overlooked to a man most sought after. He had done so through her counsel and guidance.

And now, there was no further need of her in his life.

It was so painfully clear that the ache she felt earlier rose and lodged in her throat.

On the dance floor, the Duke of Dudley led Jillian in a stiff dance, his face as stern as his sense of humor. And all the while, poor Jillian’s chin remained up and her posture proud. Her lips were moving as she spoke, and the duke’s face seemed to darken. Doubtless, Jillian had not stifled “her foolishness,” as the duke had called it, and the victory of her friend’s defiance made Hannah proud.