First Draft

Miss Georgina Wakefield had nothing personal against the Duke of Hayward. He was a pleasant and humorous man. Yet he was a duke, an aristocrat, and she had reasons for steering clear of such men. She also knew he was a rake, or so she'd heard. He was also cocky and this she'd seen firsthand. And... she didn't want to dance with him. A slight nudge from Lady Margaret prompted her to speak. "Of course, Your Grace. I'll just get my dance card out."

"Forget that silly card," Lady Margaret said. "The next set is about to begin, and I believe it starts with a waltz." She winked, and Georgina's heart plummeted to her stomach. Great, she thought and plastered on a wide, fake smile for Lord Lymington.

He held his elbow out. "Shall we?" He was grinning at her, his dimples and handsome face made more noticeable by his glee.

Georgina took his offered arm, casting Lady Margaret a heated glare over her shoulder as the duke escorted her toward the dance floor. She could hear Margaret's cackle as they approached the other dancers, waiting for the music to begin. "Your Grace," she started.

"Please call me Lord Lymington. We have been through a lot together and 'Your Grace' seems stuffy. I'd prefer Lymington or Johannes, but some would frown upon it here." He looked around at the couples surrounding them. "They are a bunch of pretentious fuddy-duddies," he whispered, leaning in close.

Her skin pebbled from his breath, warm and delicious, in her ear. She giggled despite herself and relaxed. Why does he have to be so funny and charming? The music started, and he suddenly swept Georgina up in his arms, her earlier words forgotten. As he twirled her around the floor, holding her tight, she wondered if they were too close? Her mother had insisted Georgina learned to dance, but she had never waltzed like this before.

The Duke of Hayward was a big, healthy man, yet in his arms, he seemed larger than life. Georgina could feel the outline of his muscles and his scent was doing strange things to her. She wasn't sure what men were supposed to smell like, but couldn't recall one smelling so bloody delectable. She resisted the urge to lean into his neck and inhale his appealing odor. Her head almost reached his shoulders, and they were oh so close. All I have to do is raise my head and sniff.

Breaking Georgina's scandalous musings, Johannes said, "You are very quiet, Miss Wakefield. What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?"

I would die before telling you. She scrambled to come up with a proper retort. "I was thinking... you smell very nice, Your Grace." Drat! I must bite my tongue more often.

His rich, booming laughter resonated throughout the room, and Georgina felt her cheeks burn from mortification. She was relieved to be petite at the moment, which allowed her to hide her face from him. Lady Margaret and Mabel made their way to the edge of the ballroom floor, both women gawking and grinning. She realized they had heard Lord Lymington's laugh, as well as everyone else. All eyes were on her and the duke.

Her mother had told her often that she talked too much and didn't think before speaking. Georgina realized her mother was indeed right.

"Thank you, Miss Wakefield. You smell quite wonderful, yourself. I was just thinking that your scent should be illegal."

She'd learned her lesson and said, "Thank you." Before hastily adding, "I bathe in lavender water." Georgina bit her tongue-hard. Why am I speaking of bathing? I won't be able to look at him again without dying from shame.

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Lady Margaret, taken aback, heard the Duke of Hayward laughing in the crowded assembly room. She would know his deep voice anywhere. One might find it irrelevant for someone to laugh heartily during a dance or conversation at a ball, but Margaret knew it was rare coming from Johannes. It was quite extraordinary since Lord Lymington, while outgoing and flirtatious, wasn't keen on spectacles of any kind amongst a crowd. No, the Duke of Hayward liked to keep people-mainly women-on their toes with his mysterious side.

"Madge, do my eyes and ears deceive me?" Mabel asked.

"You're reading my mind, ol' gal. We've been together so long, we think alike. Let's get a better look at them." Margaret grabbed Mabel's elbow, and they made their way toward the dance floor, finding the perfect spot to gander at the unlikely duo.

"I told you, Mabel. I knew they were a perfect match. Just look at them..."

"You told me all right. You sure enough did. I still say that pairing will never happen. No ma'am, Madge. That girl is stubborn as the day is long. She's got an unhealthy aversion to nobs and as for Lymington..." She shook her head. "Well, he may fancy the girl, but he will pick one of those prim and proper English debutants straight out of the schoolroom."

"That's what you may think. Lymington probably thinks so too, I'm sure. I bet his mother has a list of proper candidates for him to choose from. Poor ol' gal is just waiting for him to sow his oats and settle down. She's a fresh widow dreaming of grandchildren-from a blue-blooded floozy-to fill her days. But I still say she's the one, Mabel. Mark my words! Georgie's the only floozy that'll do for our Lymington." Margaret harrumphed, nodding her head while keeping her eyes trained on the smiling duke and a blushing Georgina.

Mabel giggled, resisting the urge to hold her midsection. No matter the years spent with the Cunning Countess, Margaret still shocked and tickled Mabel. "My, my, my! So Georgie's the only floozy that'll do, is she? Madge, you are one of a kind. Now, leave those two to dance and-"

"And get a nip of brandy..." Margaret peeked at the couple again and turned away, smiling. The Duke of Hayward, making a duchess of a workhouse waif and a spot of brandy, was enough reason to grin like a cat with cream.

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Hello, readers, I've found a moment to write a new chapter! I hope you enjoy it.

Lady Lisa