Minx

"No!" he burst out, his voice oddly raw. He rushed forward and clasped her hands. "I mean yes. I mean you look marvelous."

"Are you certain? Because I could change—"

"Don't change a thing," he said sternly.

She stared up at him, knowing her heart was in her eyes but quite unable to do a thing about it. Finally Belle broke in, saying in an amused voice, "Henry, I really must introduce you to my cousin."

Henry blinked and turned to the black-haired, green-eyed man standing next to John. He was magnetically handsome, she thought rather objectively, but she hadn't even noticed him when she'd walked into the room. She hadn't been able to see anyone except Dunford.

"Miss Henrietta Barrett," Belle said, "may I present the Duke of Ashbourne?"

Alex took her hand and dropped a light kiss on her knuckles. "I'm delighted to meet you, Miss Barrett," he said smoothly, casting a wicked glance at Dunford, who had clearly just realized he'd made a cake of himself over his ward. "Not as delighted as our friend Dunford, perhaps, but delighted nonetheless."

Henry's eyes danced, and a wide smile broke out over her face. "Please call me Henry, your grace—"

"Everybody does," Dunford finished for her.

She shrugged helplessly. "It's true. Except for Lady Worth."

"Henry," Alex said, testing the sound of it out. "It suits you, I think. Certainly more than does Henrietta."

"I don't think Henrietta suits anyone," she replied. Then she offered him her cheeky smile, and Alex saw in an instant why Dunford was falling like a rock for this girl. She had spirit, and although she didn't realize it yet, she had beauty, and Dunford didn't have a chance.

"I expect not," Alex said. "My wife is expecting our first child in two months. I shall have to make certain we don't name her Henrietta."

"Oh, yes," Henry said suddenly, as if she'd just remembered something important. "You're married to Belle's cousin. She must be lovely."

Alex's eyes softened. "Yes, she is. I hope you get a chance to meet her. She would like you very much."

"Not half as much as I will like her, I'm sure, as she had the good sense to marry you." Henry shot a daring glance over at Dunford. "Oh, but please forget I said that, your grace. Dunford has insisted I not speak to married men." As if to illustrate her point, she took a step back.

Alex burst out laughing.

"Ashbourne is permissible," Dunford said with a half-suppressed groan.

"I hope I'm not off limits too," John added.

Henry looked askance at her beleaguered guardian.

"John is fine as well," he said, his voice growing slightly irritable.

"My congratulations, Dunford," Alex said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. "I predict you'll have a resounding success on your hands. The suitors will be breaking down your door."

If Dunford was pleased by his friend's pronouncement, it didn't show on his face.

Henry beamed. "Do you really think so? I must confess I know very little about going about in society. Caroline has told me I am oftentimes a touch too candid."

"That," Alex said in a self-assured voice, "is why you are going to be a success."

"We should be on our way," Belle cut in. "Mama and Papa have already left for the ball, and I told them we would be along shortly. Shall we all go in one carriage? I think we'll be able to squeeze in."

"Henry and I will go alone," Dunford said smoothly, taking her arm. "There are a few things I would like to discuss with her before she is presented." He steered her toward the doorway, and together they swept from the room.

It was probably just as well that he couldn't see the three identical smiles of amusement directed at their backs.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Henry asked once their carriage had started out.

"Nothing," he admitted. "I thought you might like a few moments of peace before we arrive at the party."

"That is very thoughtful of you, my lord."

"Oh, for God's sake," he scowled. "Whatever you do, do not call me 'my lord.'"

"I was just practicing," she murmured.

There was a moment of silence, then he asked, "Are you nervous?"

"A bit," she admitted. "Your friends are lovely, though, and they put me quite at ease."

"Good." He patted her hand in a paternal manner.

Henry could feel the heat of his hand through both of their gloves, and she ached to prolong the touch. But she didn't know how to do this, so she did what she always did when her emotions bubbled too close to the surface: she grinned impishly. Then she patted his hand.

Dunford leaned back, thinking that Henry must be marvelously self-contained to tease him in such a manner on the eve of her debut. She turned abruptly away from him to stare out the window as London rolled by. He studied her profile, noting curiously that the jaunty look that had been in her eye had disappeared. He was about to ask her about this when she wet her lips.

Dunford's heart slammed in his chest.

He had never dreamed Henry would be so transformed by a fortnight in London, never thought the cheeky country girl could grow into this alluring—although equally cheeky—woman. He longed to touch the line of her throat, to run his hand along the embroidered edge of her neckline, to delve his fingers into the magnificent warmth that lay below it...

He shuddered, well aware that his thoughts were leading his body in a rather uncomfortable direction. And he was becoming painfully cognizant of the fact that he was beginning to care for her too damned much, and certainly not in the way a guardian was meant to care for his ward.