Could it really be jealousy? He had known Jake since they were seven. Even at such times as they’d both fancied the same girl, there was never a question that a romantic attachment would supersede their friendship. One would happily step out of the way if the other had a deeper feeling.
But neither of them had been married before. Suppose Jake took a liking to Georgiana? And suppose she favoured him as well? As her stepmother had been so eager to point out, his wife had hated him before they married. He had given her little reason to change her opinion of him since.
Without intending to, he took a step forward, half ready to go out on to the floor, grab her by the hand, and lead her back to his side. How foolish would that have been? He’d be making just the sort of scene he hated from the rest of his family. He drank deeply, wishing the champagne was something strong enough to chase the madness out of his head.
And then, they were back, winded and happy, taking their places on either side of him as if nothing had happened. ‘Your friend is a delightful dancer,’ she said with a smile.
‘As is your wife,’ Jake added, looking truly envious.
‘Not that Frederick would know about such a thing.’ Georgiana gave him another challenging look.
‘Not know?’ Jake was looking at him in surprise. ‘I was under the impression that the two of you had been carrying on a secret romance for some time now. You must have danced together at least once.’
‘It has been quite some while,’ Fred said, wishing they had taken the time to create a believable past between them.
‘And Frederick is far too serious to dance.’ Georgiana was pouting at him.
‘He did not used to be so,’ Jake supplied. ‘I remember a time when he was the first to take the floor and the last to leave it.’
‘I bet he does not even know how to waltz,’ Georgiana taunted, fluttering her fan. ‘I do. I was not supposed to, of course. But I would not let prudery stop me from something so pleasant.’
‘Young ladies should not dance so close with men,’ Fred said automatically. ‘It is not proper.’
‘But I am an old, married lady,’ she reminded him. ‘No one will look twice if I do it now.’
I would.
‘And I have waltzed,’ he added. ‘At the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, before Waterloo.’ When they had got word of Napoleon’s approach, he had jumped into the saddle still wearing his dancing slippers.
The pair of them were staring at him, expectantly.
At last, Jake said, ‘Well?’
The band was striking up a waltz. It would look strange for a supposedly happy couple not to be dancing something that gave them a chance to hold each other in public. Perhaps someone had noticed already. By avoiding her, he was still managing to cause gossip. He wet his lips, suddenly nervous. ‘May I have this dance, my dear?’
Now, she was the one hesitating, making him wonder if she meant to refuse. Then she smiled as mischievously as she had at Jake and curtsied. ‘Of course, my love.’
He offered his hand and led her out on to the floor, pulling her easily into his arms.
Other than the brief kiss on their wedding night, he had not held her so closely since that night in the club. At the thought, his blood rushed and he felt the beginnings of an autonomic reaction totally inappropriate for a grown man in a public place. He schooled his thoughts, counting out the multiplication tables in his head until he could regain control.
‘Do not feel it necessary to make polite conversation with me while we dance. Now that we are married, such banal courtesies are not required.’ She was smiling, but her words stung like thorns in his flesh.
‘Do you normally speak without regard for your partner’s feelings as you dance?’ he asked, leaning closer to whisper softly into her ear as he had at breakfast.
‘Is your sensibility so delicate that you cannot withstand a single comment?’
Strangely, he felt more at ease the longer they argued. ‘I prefer to think of myself as discerning,’ he replied, twirling her. ‘I would not normally dance with a woman who only wished to insult me.’
‘I suspect you would cut her dead before she got the chance to even meet you,’ she replied.
‘And she would never let me forget it, even if I regretted it after.’ Even as he spoke them, the words came as a surprise. How different might their lives have been had he accepted her introduction and danced with her months ago?
‘Is this an apology?’ she said, shocked out of her sarcasm.
‘Now that I have met your stepmother, I think it might have been unfair to blame you for the rudeness on our first meeting, or some of the disturbances I witnessed since.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
