The Duke who caught my eye

Chapter 18

The ball that night was quite a crush. Almost the entire ton was present, awaiting the unveiling of Christen Florey. Although rumour had it that Lady Clara was the one, not many people believed it.

After all, did she really have the courage to insult the ton?

Leo was bent on disclosing the truth gracefully. He said that they didn't have to fear anybody. Besides, Clara was a duchess now and no one would dare to say a word against her.

But Clara was skeptical. Like the rest of the ton, she didn't know if she had the grace to pull it all off with aplomb.

Like at the previous ball she'd attended, Clara was a huge success tonight as well.

She practically glowed.

And Leo couldn't take his eyes off of her. No man could, much to his annoyance.

He watched her as she glided across the dance floor with her dance partner, a stupid young bloke who was staring at her like she was the answer to all his prayers. Leo couldn't really blame the man. Although he felt a certain dislike for the boy, he didn't bother Leo all that much. He didn't see him as a threat or a competitor. He knew that Clara was his and his alone. Besides, seeing her so happy made him happy as well.

And then their gazes locked. He saw her staring at him over the boy's shoulder. That was enough to set his heart racing. He strode across the floor, pushing some of the dancers in his haste to reach her.

He saw her eyes widen as he neared them. Leo put his hand on the boy– Radson's shoulder and turned him around.

"I believe this dance is mine, Radson," Leo said, staring him down.

It seemed like the boy wasn't completely daft because he moved away gracefully with a smile giving Clara one last longing look.

"That was extremely arrogant," Clara sputtered. But Leo could see that she was pleased and just shrugged as he took her into his arms.

Ah, home.

They waltzed for a while, staring into each other's eyes. The light from the candles glinted off her hair, making her look ethereal.

"I love you," he murmured, unable to help himself.

"I love you more," she said, a lovely blush settling on her cheeks.

It was only now that Clara understood the purpose of the waltz. It was purely a form a foreplay when dances with the right man. She understood because as she danced with this man, she could feel her insides melt. She could feel the heat of his palm, where he'd placed it on her back. His hot gaze searing her, branding her.

Before she could realise what was happening, Leo had guided her to the French doors and discreetly out into the garden.

This had to be the most cliché scene and Clara giggled because it was finally happening to her.

They entered the ballroom after quite some time. Clara's cheeks were unnaturally rosy and her hair wasn't precisely as it was when she'd arrived. But she looked happy.

The Duke on the other seemed like he was extremely pleased with himself, although his previously snowy white and crisp cravat, like her grace's hair, wasn't precisely as it had been and lay limp and wrinkled around his neck.

The Earl, Clara's father, on the other hand noticed and wasn't pleased at all.

But a few minutes after that, there seemed to be a racket near the stage on which the orchestra was playing.