The Royal Conquest(64)

He grabbed a glass from a passing footman and raised it in her direction.

There were several gasps behind him which he ignored.

Dance with me, he mouthed, and her eyes widened, that irresistible smile he loved so much curved into her lips. Then sadness suffused her face. It pained him to see it.

Mikhail’s world shifted when she moved toward him.

A waltz started, and he drew her into his arms. “Thank you.”

“I have selfish reasons,” she said with a somber smile. “I know you dislike scandal, and I would not have you endure one because of my actions. I would prefer us to part amicably than with anger.”

She cared. “Thank you, Payton. You honor me.”

She arched an elegant brow. “I also love dancing, and it has been months since I had the pleasure, aside from our last ball.”

The unspoken words hinted of a society that had made no effort to forgive and accept.

He drew her a bit closer than what was considered appropriate and heat flared in her gaze, then she lowered her lashes, hiding from him. “Then I will dance all night with you.”

Her cheeks flushed becomingly. “Are you saying you are now comfortable with my touch?” She flexed her fingers on his shoulders.

“More so than I have ever been.”

Doubt clouded her gaze. It was not enough for him to say the words. He would have to show her. He tightened his grip and spun her with dizzying swirls, wishing he could wipe the evident heartbreak from her eyes.

Tonight.

He would wait no longer. He must know if he was capable of accepting all she had to offer, and he would act tonight.



Payton released Mikhail’s hands, curtsied, and walked away.

“They have danced six dances now,” a voice filled with shock and what sounded like admiration said.

“It is scandalous, that is what it is!”

“I think she is an original.”

This time the notes of admiration were filled with warmth.

“I would say the Duke of Avondale has clearly declared who will be his duchess.”

This tone was filled with envy.

Payton did not care. She could feel Mikhail’s eyes on her; the swell of the gossip murmurings rose, but she was becoming immune to it all. It was freeing to know how little she cared for their opinion in this moment.

“Payton!” The sharp call of her aunt did not deter her, and pure pleasure wrapped itself around her heart as she ignored the head of her family.

She met the eyes of Connie, and a full-blown smile burst on Payton’s lips when the duchess raised her glass of champagne and gave her a mock bow. Payton winked, and Connie laughed, and the ballroom throng witnessed the byplay.

Payton swept from the ballroom to the foyer, ignoring those who tried to signal her attention. She was one of the first guests to depart, and it took little effort for her carriage to be brought around.

She waited until she was settled inside before releasing the laugh she had been suppressing. This night had been perfect…almost. The freedom to act on her feelings had been so rewarding. When she had returned to his arms, uncaring of the world around for the first time she could ever remember, she had felt the crack in the belief she could never fit in his world.

She had soared in his arms, the desperate realization that while she did not want to be a part of the hypocrisy of high society, the easy condemnation and gossip, the desire to be Mikhail’s wife, his lover, his princess and his duchess, had rattled in her head, a hammer to her resistance. And when she took the plunge, society would be the one that needed to fit into her world. A society where there was kindness to the wallflowers, where it was acceptable to invite the bluestocking to her balls, where the gent who possessed two left feet would still be encouraged to waltz, and, if it was her wish, to ride in Hyde Park astride in trousers. The very title she feared had the power for her to act however she wanted, if she would but have the strength to reach for him.

What about never knowing what it is like to touch him? How could she ever hope to defeat such demons?

There was a lurch, and she slipped a bit forward. A few minutes passed, and she stirred. Mayfair, where her father’s town house was located, was not all that far from Connie’s residence. They should have arrived by now. Payton lifted her head and frowned. Was it her imagination that the horses were moving faster? She banged on the carriage roof, and a few seconds later the portal slid open.

“Why have we increased our—?” What?

Dozens of men on horseback surrounded her carriage, and the countryside they raced past was not familiar in the least. Pulling the watch from her pelisse, she gaped at the time. She had been woolgathering for almost an hour.

Fear slithered along her spine. “Stop the carriage,” she ordered, her mind churning with confusion and determination.