There it was again. The twitch in the corners of his mouth, this time accompanied by a flaring of the nostrils. He was displeased. Displeased enough to break the betrothal which was not yet official?
A part of Rowena hoped so. The silly, romantic part prone to make a cake of herself over some duke she had only just met. The rational part in her knew that she had to smooth the situation over, and now, before the dance began.
“I have saved the Scottish reel and the quadrille for Your Grace, in the hopes you would be able to attend. They are among my most favored. I hope you will still agree to dance them with me? Even though that would take us to three?”
She blinked at him and forced her most genteel smile onto her lips. Knowing how much the number of dances appeared to mean to him, she’d calculated that this might appease him. It did.
He bowed before her. “Of course. I shall dance every dance you wish with you. Now, enjoy your spin on the dance floor. Meanwhile, I will seek out your Mother. She has requested my opinion on when we’d rather have the wedding. Summer or winter.”
Faith, Mama. She simply cannot let the matter rest.
“Of course, Your Grace. I am sure this will please her immensely.”
He turned to leave, and Rowena set her eyes on the young man who’d so brazenly demanded his dance. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked at the Duke with some disdain.
The music for the cotillion was beginning and couples proceeded to the dance floor. He held out his arm for her to take which she did. Just as they were about to step onto the dance floor, her intended husband addressed her once more.
“Do you have a preference, Lady Rowena? For the wedding? I must say I would find a winter wedding charming. Alas, it is ever so far away. Perhaps the summer, eh?”
Rowena swallowed, uncomfortable with the question but she found herself nodding slowly.
“Whatever Your Grace thinks best.”
He clapped his hands together and smiled at her. “Splendid. A summer wedding it will be. Now, enjoy your dance.” He turned his attention from her to the Duke.
“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.” His voice was laced with insincerity which made Rowena shiver. At last, he left and the two proceeded to the dance floor where they were finally alone.
“I am ever so sorry, Your Grace. I had imagined since the hour was so late that he would not appear and–”
“Please, do not fret, Lady Rowena. You could not have known. However, I must admit I found myself taken aback by the news that you are all but betrothed.”
She looked up at him, tilting her head to the side.
“I am not officially betrothed. Although an arrangement has been made, that much is true.”
They began their dance, joining the other couples. His hands were gripped tightly around hers as they followed the steps of the dance.
“He certainly appears to consider it official, judging by the manner in which he presented himself.”
The strain in his voice was evident. He had been as displeased by the Duke of Thornmouth’s behavior.
“An offer is about to be made; I am certain.”
She found it impossible to look him in the eyes.
“I expect you are pleased with it? Promised to a duke, that is an achievement for any lady of theton.”
There was something in his tone that gave her pause. He was upset. She found herself unsure as to how to answer. She had found herself unhappy at the change in her life. However, it was a change she’d always known was coming.
“Nobody has ever asked if I am pleased. Your Grace knows how it is. A lady is fortunate if a good match is made, and this is an excellent one. My Father had taken great care in finding me a match that is suitable.”
This time, she thought to herself, thinking back to the unfortunate business with Lord Mortimer. Her father had thought Mortimer a good match. What if he was wrong again this time? She had to admit, while the Duke of Thornmouth appeared a pleasant man and eager to please her, there was something about him. He was brash and forward, which she did not care for.
Beside her, her dance partner remained quiet, following the steps of the dance carefully, as if it did not come easily to him. At last, he spoke up again.
“Is that all you seek in life? A suitable match? Do you never wish there was more?”
“More? Such as what?”
