" He hadn’t been aware of staring, but when her questioning gaze locked with his, Grey felt as though he’d been smacked upside the head by the open palm of idiocy.
“Is something troubling you, Grey?”
He loved the sound of his name on her tongue, and hated that he loved it. She made him weak and stupid. One sweet glance from her and he was ready to drop to his knees.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even infatuation. It was pure unmitigated lust. He could admit that. Hell, he embraced it. Lust could be managed. Lust could be mastered. And lust would eventually fade once she was out of his care and out of his life. That was the cold, hard, blessed truth of it.
“I was wondering if you were eagerly anticipating Lady Shrewsbury’s ball tomorrow evening?” How easily the lie rolled off his tongue as he lifted a bite of poached salmon to his mouth.
She smiled softly, obviously looking forward to it very much. “I am. Thank you.”
Camilla shared her daughter’s pleasure judging from her coy grin. “Rose has renewed her acquaintance with the honorable Kellan Maxwell. He requested that she save the first waltz of the evening for him.”
The fish caught in Grey’s throat. He took a drink of wine to force it down. “The same Kellan Maxwell who courted you during your first season?”
Rose’s smile faded a little. No doubt she heard the censure in his tone, his disapproval. “The same,” she replied with an edge of defensiveness.
The same idiot who abandoned his pursuit of Rose when Charles lost everything and scandal erupted. The little prick who hadn’t loved her enough to continue his courtship regardless of her situation.
“Mm,” was what he said out loud.
Rose scowled at him. “We had no understanding. We were not engaged, and Mr. Maxwell behaved as any other young man with responsibilities would have.”
“You defend him.” It was difficult to keep his disappointment from showing. He never thought her to be the kind of woman who would forgive disloyalty when she was so very loyal herself.
She tilted her head. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m no debutante, Grey. If I’m to find a husband this season I shouldn’t show prejudice.”
Common sense coming out of anyone else. Coming out of her it was shite. “You deserve better.”
She smiled a Mona Lisa smile. “We do not always get what we deserve, or even what we desire.”
She knew. Christ in a frock coat, she knew.
Her smile faded. “If we did, Papa would be here with us, and Mama and I wouldn’t be your responsibility.”
She didn’t know. Damn, what a relief. “The two of you are not a responsibility. You are a joy.”
For some reason that only made her look sadder, but Camilla smiled through happy tears. She thanked him profusely, but Grey had a hard time hearing what she was saying-he was too intent on Rose, who had turned her attention to her plate and was pushing food around with little interest.
He could bear this no longer. He didn’t know what was wrong with her, or why she seemed so strange with him. And he couldn’t stand that he cared.
“Ladies, I’m afraid I must beg your pardon and take leave of you.”
Rose glanced up. “So soon?”
He pushed his chair back from the table. “Yes. But I will see you at breakfast in the morning.”
She turned back to her dinner.
Grey bid farewell to Camilla and then strode from the room as quickly as he could. If he survived the Season it would be a miracle. "

― Kathryn Smith , When Seducing a Duke (Victorian Soap Opera, #1)