The Trouble With Being a Duke by Sophie Barnes Page B

which he was very much obliged). Second, she possessed the ability to remain calm when faced with unusual circumstances. Third, and perhaps most memorable of all, was the way she felt. Anthony had never considered himself the shallow sort, and he was well aware that the first two elements were of equal, if not greater, importance because they pertained to her character, but he also knew that he could never deny the way his body responded to the softness of her. It was as if molten hot lava had surged up his arm, filling his entire body with a pulsing heat unlike any he’d ever felt before.
    It confounded him to such a degree that he found himself at a complete loss for words. After all, it wasn’t as if he had no prior experience with the female sex. Truthfully, he had ample, for until his father’s health had begun to decline, he’d led the same life of debauchery as every other young and unattached gentleman. Casper could attest to this. In fact, it was probably the only cause for tension between them, because while circumstance had forced Anthony to grow up and become the responsible adult he was destined to be, Casper refused to abandon his roguish ways, declaring that it would be wrong to meddle with nature’s intent.
    As for Miss Smith . . . Anthony removed his hand from her thigh and hazarded a glance at her, expecting a reprimanding frown. Instead, he found her looking down at the exact spot where his hand had just been. Even in the dim light of the carriage he could see that her cheeks were flushed. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes wide with wonder and her lips slightly parted as if she wished to say something but failed to find the right words. It was a moment that Anthony would never forget, for as he looked into her eyes, he knew that she had been just as affected as he.
    “Your portrait, Your Grace.”
    Anthony blinked, turned away from Miss Smith and accepted the piece of paper that the artist was holding out to him. With the spell broken, he voiced his thanks and alighted from the carriage before offering Miss Smith his hand. She quickly accepted and was on the ground beside him a moment later.
    “There you are!” Anthony recognized the voice immediately as that of his mother. Looking over his shoulder, he found her walking toward him with Casper at her side. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you—the food is about to be brought out, so I thought it might be an appropriate time for you to make a toast.”
    For the briefest of moments, Anthony considered asking his mother to do it instead, but he knew that would never do. He was the duke, and the making of toasts was his responsibility no matter how much he disliked the prospect of speaking to a room full of people. Being on public display like that made him uncomfortable—it always had—and was the reason why he’d delayed taking that dreaded seat of his in Parliament. But, in light of the fact that this was the first ball hosted at Kingsborough Hall since his father’s death, he couldn’t help but agree with his mother: saying something was the right thing to do. “Of course,” he said, managing a smile that he hoped would mask his nervousness.
    “Thank you, my dear,” his mother said. She cast a quick glance in Miss Smith’s direction before returning her gaze to him. “And if you wouldn’t mind mingling a little with the rest of your guests for a while after, I think it would help reassure everyone that you’re taking your new role as duke seriously.”
    The implication could not have been clearer if she’d spelled it out for him word by word. His mother knew, just as well as he did, that the woman whose company he’d been enjoying for the past hour was not only an imposter but also, perhaps, even unsuitable for him to associate himself with. It annoyed him—mostly because he knew she was right. He couldn’t remain absent from the ballroom too long without the guests wondering where their host had disappeared to, and