Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) (2 page)

Gwen’s thoughts centered on the Duke’s expression in the ballroom. What was it about his gaze that made her feel flushed? Her cheeks grew warm just considering the possibilities.

She shook her head and instead entertained the irony of the situation. Little did Sebastian know the woman he stared at was the same boyish child who, along with her twin brother, used to shadow her eldest brother and the future duke on their jaunts.

He hadn’t recognized her. There was no other explanation for his odd reaction. If he had, Gwen was certain he would have approached and joked with her, chucking her chin the way he had when she was a child.

She smiled in remembrance of a particular afternoon when her eldest brother, Colin, had been annoyed with her.

“No, Gwen, hunting is not for young ladies. Go home this instant,” Colin commanded
.

When she didn’t budge, Sebastian tried a different tactic
.

“Gwen,” he quizzed, “what will you do when it is time for you to marry and your betrothed doesn’t want his wife hunting and fishing?”

Her reply, even at that young age, had been defiant. “My husband will love me no matter what I do. Otherwise, I shall refuse to marry him.”

Her smile waned. Gwen now understood that duty dictated she marry the man of her father’s choosing, a man she didn’t love. Of course she knew this day would come, yet she had hoped that her devotion would be enough to convince him to allow Gwen at least some input into her own fate.

No such luck
, she thought with a grimace.

“Enough of this,” Gwen slapped the balustrade, her frustrations mounting at her lack of control over her own destiny and the realization that a change of scenery had done nothing to improve her foul mood. It was time she returned to the ballroom before her father noticed her absence.

Gathering her gloves and a fistful of skirts, she rushed towards the same throng from which she had sought solitude just minutes before. As she rounded a corner, Gwen ran straight into a solid mass and was knocked to the ground.

“Oh, good Lord,” the words escaped her lips before she could censure them. In a valiant attempt to gather her wits, she noticed the trouser-clad legs of a gentleman standing beside her. “I apologize,” she declared before raising her chin to catch a glimpse of the culprit. Her jaw slackened at the sight of the Duke of Davenport’s handsome face.

“For what?” he quipped, brow arched. “Almost sending me flying, or for cursing like a drunken sailor?”

A heat crept across her cheeks as Gwen steeled her shoulders then returned his stare. “Both as it appears that my blasphemy has offended your demure sensibilities.”

Sebastian smiled at the sight of this beautiful yet
rather disheveled woman sitting on a cloud of white skirts.

“Would you mind helping me up?” She jarred him from his thoughts. “It’s not easy with these skirts.”

He gave himself a mental shake then offered her his hands. The mystery woman placed her hands in his, and Sebastian noted with a pang of pleasure that she wasn’t wearing gloves. Her skin was the softest he’d ever encountered, like silk, and a wicked thought occurred to him.

What would the rest of her body feel like?

“Are you unwell?” Her gaze was fixed upon his. “You look a bit dazed.”

He thought himself mad. Wasn’t it enough that he’d shamelessly stared at this woman in the ballroom? Must he also act like a besotted fool when she was an arm’s length away?

“Are you hurt?” he managed, knowing full well that although not clever or witty his statement wasn’t entirely foolish.

The beauty shook her skirts then inspected them for dirt. “It appears that I’ve only wounded my pride.”

She gave him a faint smile before continuing. “I am fine, thank you, Your Grace. I’m afraid I wasn’t minding where I was heading.”

Sebastian gathered her gloves from the ground then guided her to a nearby bench. She hesitated, glancing towards the ballroom before reaching a decision to stay.

Once settled on the bench, she insisted, “There’s really no need to fuss. I’m fine.”

“We haven’t been introduced,” Sebastian announced as he seized the moment and sat beside her.

“We have not?” she queried, her eyes dancing.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was teasing him. “No. I’m certain I would remember.”

Sebastian studied his companion, her expression unnerving him. Was this beauty yet another gold digger? He peered over his shoulder to ensure that no mother was skulking behind a rose bush or lurking around some dark corner ready to pounce upon him and demand he marry her daughter.

Once satisfied that there was no greedy mother in sight, Sebastian returned his attention to the beguiling woman beside him. She was eyeing him with a delightful expression, seeming quite amused. By what, he hadn’t yet discerned.

“I would never forget your name, Your Grace. You are Sebastian Montgomery, ninth Duke of Davenport. I am a bit miffed, however, that you could forget mine,” she replied with mock indignation.

“I beg your pardon?” His attitude cooled as he surveyed her, searching her dancing eyes for a sign, any sign, that his assumptions were incorrect.

“Your Grace,” she began, her tone solemn, “you are far too young to suffer from senility, although I suppose it is possible.”

The gorgeous sprite paused, appearing to revel in his confusion. “I must admit, the last time I saw you, you did appear to be much taller. Perhaps you are also shrinking?”

Thunderstruck, Sebastian studied her beautiful
visage, wracking his brain for a hint of who she might be.

“To be honest, I am much taller now. Maybe that is why you appear shorter?” She teased, pressing her forefinger against her full, rosy lips. “Now that I consider it, our last encounter occurred when I was about ten or eleven. No doubt, I have changed considerably since then; therefore, I’m afraid I have an unfair advantage over you.”

Sebastian blinked.
Ten or eleven? But it couldn’t be
...

She grinned, clearly savoring every minute of his confusion. “I shall give you one more clue. Your skills with a pistol far outweighed mine; however, I bested you at archery.”

Through the side of her mouth, she asked in a hushed tone, “Have you improved at archery since then, Your Grace?”

“It can’t be.” His eyes widened. “Little Gwen MacAlistair?”

She laughed. “Yes, well, ‘
little Gwen MacAlistair
’ is much taller now.”

Gwen was much more of many things, but he snapped himself back from such impure thoughts before shaking his head in surrender. “You brat! You played some trick on me, didn’t you?”

“I thought it only fitting, Your Grace, after the many years of abuse I sustained from you and my eldest brother.” Gwen winked at him as she emphasized his title.

“Call me Sebastian. You always did.”

She nodded in acceptance. “How are you, Sebastian and how is your sister?”

“Victoria is well and has blossomed into a exquisite young lady,” Sebastian replied, proud of his sister.

“Sebastian,” Gwen’s expression softened. “I was so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. We’ve been residing at our estate in Scotland and I’m afraid I heard news of the late Duchess’ death only after we returned to England, not quite two days ago. Please accept my deepest condolences. Your mother was a remarkable woman.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” The pain from his mother’s passing was sharp as a blade, even after all this time.

As if sensing his grief, she leaned toward him. “You never answered my question. Have you improved at archery?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said in a dire tone. “And you? Have your skills with a pistol improved? The last time I saw you aim one, you nearly shot me in the shoulder.”

Gwen gaped at him. “I did no such thing. That’s ludicrous.”

“Ahem.” Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest to make a statement. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

She narrowed her gaze, “Forgotten what?”

“Allow me to restore your memory. I recall you, a pistol, and a ricochet bullet.”

Gwen snapped her hand over her mouth then lowered it slowly. “I had forgotten about that incident.”

“Have you shot anyone since then?” He arched his brow, his manner teasing. Sebastian enjoyed
having the upper hand.

“Of course not.” Her smile widened, “I gave up the sport for the health and safety of my brothers’ friends.”

Sebastian howled with laughter, an uncommon sound for most of polite society. He then asked, “How are your brothers?”

“Tristan is wonderful and should be attending this evening, in fact. He’s an attorney if you can believe it!” Gwen wrinkled her brow. “Colin, on the other hand, is currently traveling abroad. I’m sad to say I haven’t heard from him in a long time.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head, as if tossing aside such unhappy thoughts. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sebastian. I detested hunting.”

“You didn’t like to hunt?” He feigned indignation.

“It’s true.” Gwen nodded. “I always felt sorry for the poor creatures. I realized after much deliberation that I only followed you and Colin on those outings to prove that a girl could do anything her eldest brother could.”

He straightened. “I’m shocked. Why, between all the noise you made traipsing through the woods in order to scare the animals, and all the attempts you made at drawing our attention from our targets, I could have sworn you adored the sport.”

Gwen smiled again and so did he. Sebastian couldn’t remember being so unreserved with anyone other than his mother, sister, and two members of their extended family – his closest friend Alexander Morley and longtime friend of his
mother, the Viscountess Fiona Weston.

In truth, Sebastian refused to trust anyone outside that small circle. He did so for the same reason he avoided love at all cost. His first memory as a child was of his father hitting his mother. For years, Sebastian watched his father abuse the dear woman until the day that Sebastian was old enough to protect her.

Although he was still quite small and lacking in strength, he did not lack conviction. Grabbing a fireplace poker, he struck his father’s knees with as much force as his small frame could muster, threatening to stab him through the heart if he ever laid another hand on his mother. He had expected to feel his father’s wrath; however, the man appeared to be proud of him. Violence seemed to be all that his father admired. The revelation had sickened Sebastian at the time. It still did.

On that day, the future Duke of Davenport vowed never to fall in love, certain the emotion led to heartache and humiliation. He also decided never to trust for much the same reason.

Gwen shifted and Sebastian suspected she was about to excuse herself. Although he knew not why, he didn’t want their encounter to end.

“Can I get you a glass of champagne?” he offered.

She shook her head as she rose, tugging her gloves back on. “No, thank you. I must return to my father.”

“It was delightful bumping into you, Miss MacAlistair,” He rose, offering her a mischievous grin.

Her reply was sweet laughter, tinkling through the night air.

He kissed the back of her hand. “Will you save a dance for me this evening?” Sebastian asked, straightening.

“I’d like that.”

She turned, walking away from him as he stood mesmerized by the woman swathed in a cloud of white fabric as she proceeded towards the ballroom, while an unknown emotion tugged at Sebastian’s heart.

Was it disappointment?

He had always acquired anything he wanted, with the one notable exception being the passing of his mother. What he desired most on this particular evening was to spend more time with Gwendolyn MacAlistair.

His attraction to her astonished him. Temptation had nothing to do with it, or did it? Her family had been friends of his until they’d moved to the Highlands. Wasn’t he simply rekindling an old acquaintance?

Sebastian’s heart pounded within his chest. He didn’t remember when he had last noticed it. Tonight, something inside of him had awakened. Of that he was certain.

His gaze continued to find Gwen in the ballroom. He watched as a good-looking gentleman walked up to her and kissed her hand. The sight made him irritable. He then cheered in silence as the man withdrew before steering toward another eligible woman. It was obvious that Gwen declined the man’s invitation to dance and it thrilled
Sebastian.

Gwendolyn’s father whispered in her ear, and they left their small group. Sebastian excused himself from the throng of women surrounding him, including an intrigued younger sister whose eyes had widened, and headed toward the pair.

He gnashed his teeth in frustration as several acquaintances waylaid him. After attempting unsuccessfully to break free from one of his mother’s plump friends, he groaned in defeat as Gwen and her father proceeded toward the exit.

She had left without sharing a dance with him. Why did he feel as if he had been horsewhipped? There were many women with whom he could dance. Hell, he’d just left a group of them.

But Sebastian only wished to dance with one.

His mood remained sour for the rest of the evening.