“Where is Lord Jennings tonight?” Mr. Atherton asked.
Ollie shrugged. “He has probably slithered off to the card room.”
Everyone laughed, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from speaking on Damon’s behalf. No one else knew the aid he gave his tenants or what he was sacrificing to secure his family’s future. And no one ever would. Except me.
The first set was announced a few moments later.
A spindly gray-haired man walked up to our group. “Miss Atherton,” he said. “Will you dance the first set with me?”
Amelia stared at the spittle pooling on his graying beard. Mr. Atherton elbowed her, and she blinked. “Yes, of course, sir.”
The man moved toward the dance floor, but Amelia did not follow. She turned to her brother. “If I have to dance, then so do you.”
“I do not actually.” He adjusted his ruffled cuffs.
“Do not be silly, I know how much you love a stage.”
“A crowded ballroom is hardly a stage.”
“So you would rather be left alone for all the marriage-minded mothers to pick at you?” Amelia raised an eyebrow.
“On second thought, perhaps I shall ask Miss Moore to dance.”
Amelia grinned at her brother, then walked to join her partner on the dance floor.
Ollie offered me his arm. “Shall we?”
I nodded and walked forward with him, then we lined up across from each other. I executed the forms with precision but not enjoyment, and when the set was over, I happily left the floor.
“I will get you a refreshment, my dear,” Ollie said.
I tensed. The endearment did not feel right falling from his lips.
“Mr. Jennings looks positively besotted,” Amelia said as he walked away.
I held a hand to my forehead, feeling faint. “It is a bit warm in here, don’t you think?”
“I daresayallballrooms are warm,” Amelia said. “But look, Mr. Jennings is returning with your drink already.”
“Your refreshment,” he said.
“Thank you.” I took the glass and sipped the lemonade, but it did little good.
At the front of the room, the next set was announced. A quadrille and then a waltz. I tried not to think of Damon, but our previous dances drifted through my mind like a dream . . . how he had guided me through my first quadrille with whispered words and our waltz in the darkened ballroom at Summerhaven.
“Might I convince you to stand up with me for another set?” The dimple in Ollie’s chin appeared.
I felt as if I might be ill. Dancing two sets in a row would say something about our relationship that I did not mean. “I—”
“Actually, little brother, this set belongs to me.”
My stomach caught at the sound of Damon’s deep voice behind me, and when I turned, my heart leapt at the sight of him.
“Perhaps you might convince Miss Atherton to stand up with you,” Damon said.
Ollie gritted his teeth, but he quickly smoothed the angry expression and turned to Amelia. “Miss Atherton, would you care to dance?”
Amelia glanced at me with narrowed eyes, then turned to Ollie. “I would be happy to, Mr. Jennings.” And the pair moved away.
