“What’s that?”

Her eyes followed his, and she let out a laugh—not the kind from just before—but that tinkling sound he’d heard so many times over the past week. Odd. The shift from the full, gut-clenching laughter from earlier made him frown. “Your Grace! That is a lady’s private treasure.” Something about the sudden coyness in her voice gave him pause and set off a few alarm bells. “But if you must know, it’s a love letter. To you, actually. I meant to find the courage to give it to you in the dining room, but then I could not.”

He stepped back, cool sea air rushing between them, cooling both his ardor and his fogged brain. “A love letter?” he repeated carefully.

“Surely you must know of my feelings, my dear sweet duke.” Her sigh of longing seemed forced, at odds with the sudden stiffness of her carriage. A mask had crept back into place, though he did not know what had caused it or what its purpose was, only that it unsettled him. “Valentine, wherefore art thou, sweet Valentine. You have given me leave to address you thusly, haven’t you?”

His skin itched. Something definitely wasn’t right.

But then she’d ducked under his arm and was gone before he could collect himself, slipping past him in a blur of filmy satin skirts toward the staircase that had brought him here. He turned to follow, but was blocked by none other than Rawley.

“Thornbury.”

His jaw clenched. “Get out of my way.”

“No.” Rawley had the audacity to smile.

“You know who I am, don’t you?”

“I also know who she is.”

Valentine fought the urge to put the bigger man on his arse. It would be hard, but he could do it. His muscles rolled beneath his skin in readiness, driven by a wild impulse he didn’t care to investigate too deeply. He was this close to breaking his own hard and fast rule of never making a scene in public when Rawley’s eyebrows rose as he crossed his arms across his massive chest and laughed at him. Valentine blinked.

“Where has this infamous control of yours gone, Thornbury? One dance and you’ll let your cock make your choices for you?”

“Like you weren’t doing anything different a minute ago,” he replied in a testy tone, though reason—along with a healthy amount of embarrassment—was starting to seep in through the red smog of lust that blanketed his brain.

“I love Cora and plan to marry her,” Rawley said mildly. “Do you love Lady Bronwyn and plan to do the same?”

Valentine opened his mouth. “I…”

Want to debauch every part of her. Lift those damp skirts, discover those long, silken legs, and lay waste to the treasure between her thighs.