The smile that flashed over her face was lightning bright. He felt the weight of her delight in him like a physical blow that ignited a heat low in his belly. The musicians had reached the end passages of the dance. He didn't want to wait and linger through another.
"I will tell them now, after the dance. And then?" If he hadn't been dancing, he would have held his breath, waiting for her answer. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had him so hungry for her. Perhaps never.
The color had returned to her face, her cheeks flushed a shade that was a paler echo of the satin of her dress. Her lips were somewhere between the two colors, and imagining them darker and swollen from kisses did steal his breath.
"Then I believe you should call for your carriage, my lord. And take me somewhere we can be alone."
"As my lady wishes," he said and had never been so glad to hear the music come to an end. He escorted Imogene off the dance floor, told her sternly not to vanish anywhere, and headed for Aristides.
Unfortunately, he found his father first. The duq was standing with some of his friends—talking politics, no doubt—but he broke away and beckoned to Jean-Paul when he spotted his son.
Jean-Paul gritted his teeth but obeyed the summons. His father would only bellow at him across the room if he pretended not to have seen. He bowed impatiently as his father studied him.
"In a hurry, Jean-Paul?" the duq asked.
"I want to speak to the emperor before I leave."
"It's early to be leaving." His father's eyes—the same gray as his own—were cool.
"I've been with the Andalyssians all day. And I will be again tomorrow. I think I've done my duty for the day."
"If you'd done your duty, you would have been dancing with Celadin or one of her friends."
Jean-Paul had caught sight of Celadin during one of his waltzes with Imogene. She'd nodded approvingly in his direction, then turned rapt attention back to her partner, the Marq de Illsien.
"I believe Celadin has plenty of partners to fill her dance card."
"If you're not careful, she'll marry someone else."
"And I'll be delighted to toast her at her wedding," Jean-Paul retorted. "Trust me, Father, Celadin and I will never make a match."
"Then choose some other suitable girl. There are plenty of them here tonight. You should be dancing with them, not wasting your time on a mere lieutenant with no name to speak of."
Goddess damn it. The duq had noticed. Worse, he knew who Imogene was. A smart man would dissemble. But when it came to Imogene, he clearly wasn't that smart. But he was smart enough not to let his father think he would succeed in choosing Jean-Paul's wife for him.
Aristides had married at eighteen, when his father had fallen ill. He'd become a father for the first time when he was still only eighteen, the need to do his duty to secure an heir for the empire more pressing than any personal preference. Jean-Paul had been ten when Aristides had wed, but he'd watched the emperor grow serious and stern near overnight, the hints of the younger man who'd seemed, despite their age difference, to be lighthearted and as eager to take part in whatever nonsense the boys of the court were getting up to buried under the weight of a crown and a family. Jean-Paul would do his duty, and he wanted sons and daughters of his own, yes, but he had promised himself that he would not be rushed or forced to the decision.
He had rarely been tempted to contemplate marriage before he had met Imogene. But he wanted to explore that temptation now. And he wouldn't let his father dissuade him.
"She's young. Who knows what she might become."
"I'm surprised Perrine let her in. She was part of the mission that is the reason we are here wining and dining those dull Andalyssians tonight."
He didn’t take the bait and argue. That would only prolong the time away from Imogene. "Did you have something else you wanted from me, Father? Rather than telling me facts I already know and trying to arrange my life?"
His father's eyes narrowed. "It's my job to ensure that the estate lies in safe hands."
Jean-Paul snorted. "Don't try that angle. At this point you need to either accept that you did your job in raising me to be a duq or throw me over for one of my brothers."
His father humphed. "I raised you to be smart. To see beyond the lure of a pretty face. Bed her if you must. But just remember where your true duty lies."