Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(7)

He smiled as he observed Bliss rise on her toes as her eyes continued to wander—and then he frowned. He knew that furrow of brow far too well. He’d first seen it when Bliss was six and her father had told her she couldn’t have a cat because he wanted to raise rabbits and was afraid the cat might eat them. Bliss had nodded her agreement and come home with a puppy, one that grew to be the size of a small cow. She’d stared up at her father with just that narrowing of lips and glare of eyes, daring anybody to put the pup out.

The duke had merely shrugged. Swanston might have sent the pup away if he’d been at home, but he’d been in London. Duldon, feeling the man at the grand age of fourteen, had considered removing the pup himself, but he’d never been able to resist that stubborn vulnerability, that look that dared the world while begging for affection.

He hadn’t been able to resist it then, and he doubted he could now.

Only he had to.



He intended to marry the girl and nothing was going to stand in his way. Nothing—not even Bliss herself.

Not even overhearing the minx call him Dull-Don. He’d heard it from her before and it always brought a smile to his lips. He wondered what she’d say if she knew the truth of how he had spent the earlier portion of the evening. He’d seen her gaze run over him on more than one occasion, seen the look that let him know she found him pleasing. Bliss might never admit it, not even to herself, but he knew she found him far from dull.

He smiled again, although only the barest crook of a lip made it to his mouth. Society might say many things if his full life, his full interests, were ever revealed, but he doubted “dull” would be among them.

Indulging himself, he allowed his eyes to follow Bliss as she slipped through the crowd. Her dress was dreadful, but then most often they were. He’d heard her give expert advice to others on fashion, so why did the chit insist on choosing the worst patterns for herself, dresses that hid every hint of her feminine shape? The dark rose monstrosity looked like she’d stepped into the middle of a molded aspic, the slick silk glistening like gelatin. And it moved the same way, disguising the graceful motion of her body.

Watching, he saw her approach a young man, stopping a few feet from him and shooting him an inviting glance with her deep blue eyes. The man, Lord Paul, he thought, blushed, and then as if moving under a spell held out his arm and led her toward the dance floor.

Bliss took a step forward, standing several inches too close to Lord Paul and peering up at him from beneath lowered lashes.



Duldon felt his palms begin to tingle.

Yes, the girl was looking for trouble and if she wasn’t careful she just might find it.

He sighed inwardly. He’d warned more than one young gentleman away from Bliss and by the end of this night it might be time to warn another.

His eyes swept about the room. Lord Dunston was busy flirting with one of Blankmore’s daughters. Mr. Middleham was at the punch bowl. Lord Temple—Lord Temple was staring at Bliss with a little too much fervor in his gaze. It might be time to have another chat with the man. He did seem to be about far too often for it to be merely coincidence.

Bliss was his.

She might not be ready to admit it, but she would soon.

She’d given herself to his care when she’d asked him to marry her and he’d never forgotten it. She might have been twelve at the time and convinced that marriage would gain her his best racer, but from that moment on she’d been his, his to protect, his to care for, his to…

When she’d been twelve and he twenty the feelings had been protective and brotherly.

They might still be protective, but there was nothing brotherly about them now, and hadn’t been for several years.

Bliss reached out and brushed something from Lord Paul’s cheek as the dance began.

Duldon slammed a palm hard against his thigh.

No, he was not dull and soon he’d be demonstrating to Miss Danser just how mistaken she’d been. He might never reveal his true inclinations to her, but that didn’t mean she would not know his displeasure.





Chapter Two


It wasn’t working. No matter how fast she spun, how fast she twirled, Lady Perse’s glance of disapproval stayed with her. And it wasn’t as if she could twirl in every dance. Most young ladies longed for waltzes, but Bliss dreaded them. They were so slow and required her to place far too much of her attention upon her companion. She was trying to forget about men, not…

Maybe that was where her plan had gone wrong. She shouldn’t be trying to forget about men, she should be trying to find one, to find the right one. She needed a man who was interesting, but not too interesting, a man who would leave her to be herself and place few demands upon her, a man who would be happy with her wealth and name and want nothing else. That was what she needed in a husband.

And how was a girl supposed to find a husband if she didn’t pay attention to the men about her? No, from now on she would consider each one carefully.

She glanced up at her companion, slightly surprised to find she was dancing with Lord Temple. How had that happened? She was normally more careful; he did have a habit of appearing far more often than she was comfortable with. The man had long fingers that reminded her of snakes in a bucket and like snakes they had a habit of slipping into places they did not belong. And he liked to pinch, and pinch hard. She never danced with him if she could help it. Just how distracted had she been?