"Chuckle…"
The sound escaped Ines before she could stop it. It was a small, bubbling sound, like champagne fizzing over the rim of a glass. She quickly pressed her lips together, trying to muffle the noise, trying to return to the serious, elegant mask of a lady waltzing with a Duke.
But her eyes gave her away. They were dancing with a light that matched the chandeliers above.
Carcel looked down at her. His hand was warm and firm on her waist, guiding her effortlessly through the sea of swirling skirts and black coats. He raised one dark eyebrow.
"What is so amusing?" he asked. His voice was low, a secret rumble meant only for her ears amidst the swelling music of the orchestra.
Ines looked up at him. She felt light. She felt dizzy, and not just from the turns.
"I am grateful," she admitted, her voice a breathless whisper.
