NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER by Carole Mortimer

ballroom on the arm of the Duke of Royston!’
    ‘I believe that to be the whole point of the exercise, Cousin.’
    ‘No.’ Eleanor gave a decisive shake of her head, several red curls fluttering loosely about her temples as she did so. ‘If I am to be forced to attend, as you believe I will be, then I absolutely refuse to make such a spectacle of myself.’
    He raised haughty brows. ‘Even though you will have the honour of being the first young woman whom the Duke of Royston has ever escorted anywhere?’
    She looked startled for a moment, but recovered quickly. ‘That only makes me all the more determined it shall not happen.’
    Justin’s smile widened at her stubborn optimism. ‘I do not believe there is any way in which you might prevent it—other than your possibly falling down the stairs and breaking a leg before then!’ He laughed in earnest as he saw by Eleanor’s furrowed brow that she was actually giving the suggestion serious consideration. ‘Would it really be such a bad thing to be seen entering the ballroom on my arm, Eleanor?’ he chided softly as he crossed the room to stand in front of her. ‘If so, then you are not in the least flattering to a man’s ego.’
    ‘I do not believe your own ego to be in need of flattery,’ Ellie murmured huskily, totally disconcerted by Justin’s sudden and close proximity. Indeed, she could feel the warmth of his breath ruffling those errant curls at her temple.
    ‘No?’ Long lean fingers reached up to smooth back those curls, the touch of his fingers light and cool against the heat of her brow.
    Ellie swallowed before attempting an answer, at the same time inwardly willing her voice to sound as it normally did. ‘How can it, when you are the elusive but much-coveted prize of the marriage mart?’
    She sounded only a little breathless, she realised thankfully, at the same time as she knew her disobedient knees were in danger of turning to water and no longer supporting her.
    ‘Am I?’ A smile tilted those sculptured lips as those lean fingers now trailed lightly down the warmth of her cheek.
    Her throat moved as she swallowed before answering. ‘Elusive or much coveted?’
    ‘Either.’
    Ellie found she was having trouble breathing as his fingers now lingered teasingly close to, but did not quite touch, the fullness of her lips. Suddenly she possessed both dry lips and a throat she necessarily had to moisten before attempting to speak again. ‘This is a ridiculous conversation, your Grace.’
    ‘Ah, once again you seek to put me firmly in my place with the use of formality,’ he murmured admiringly.
    ‘I do no such thing!’ Ellie attempted to rally her indignation—not an easy task when the soft pad of the duke’s thumb was now passing lightly across her bottom lip, and sending rivulets of excitement to the tips of her breasts and an unaccustomed warmth to gather between her thighs. ‘Your Grace—’
    ‘Justin,’ he correct softly. ‘Or Cousin Justin, if you prefer.’
    ‘I do not,’ she stated firmly, knowing that if she did not stop his teasing soon she would end up as a boneless puddle at his highly polished, booted feet. ‘It is late, and I— Perhaps there is some—someone anxiously awaiting your returning to her tonight?’
    He stilled as those narrowed blue eyes moved searchingly over her flushed face. ‘You implied something similar when I arrived earlier tonight...’
    ‘Your Grace?’
    ‘It becomes more and more obvious to me that you, like my grandmother, believe my delay in arriving here this evening to be because I was in the arms of my current mistress,’ he said speculatively.
    Ellie felt her cheeks flush even warmer, no doubt once again clashing horribly with the red of her hair, as well as emphasising the freckles across her cheeks and nose that had long been the bane of her life. ‘I am not in the least interested as to the reason for the delay in your arrival—’
    ‘Oh, but I think you are, Eleanor,’ he