In the very back of the room was movement. Just in the nick of time, Pen saw that a tapestry door was closing shut.
“There. We will go there.” Pen pointed at the tapestry door.
Her partner flushed beet red. “But Miss Reid. We can’t.”
“Why ever not?”
He swallowed; his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
“It is entirely improper,” he hissed, his eyes dashing to the right and left to make sure that no one saw them.
“Piffle,” Pen said.
“Miss Reid. I must insist.”
“You may go.”
“Excuse me?”
Pen waved her hand. “You are dismissed. Go.”
The man stuttered. “But Miss Reid…” He stumbled an apology and left.
He is an idiot, Pen thought as she turned to the tapestry door.
“Beauty in distress?” a familiar low voice murmured into her ear.
Pen whirled around.
Alworth.
He looked at her with sleepy, amused eyes. Her stomach somersaulted.
Then he bowed. “Miss Reid? Alworth is my name. Forgive my presumptuousness by not waiting for an official introduction.”
She blinked at him. But didn’t he know that she was Pen? So why was he pretending otherwise? What charade was this? Now she had to pretend they’d never met before.
She curtsied.
Looking up at him, she suddenly found him rather closer than expected.
She smelled his cologne. She could count every single fine hair on his eyelashes.
Something hot and sizzling rushed through her veins as their eyes met.
“Miss Reid.” There was an odd, intense look on his face. “Would you like to dance?”
Alworth was asking her for a dance? Now? “No. I have danced enough. I need to go in there.” She pointed at the red tapestry door. “I want to explore what is in there.”
Both his eyebrows shot up. “Are you quite certain?”
“Absolutely.”
She pulled the knob and opened the door.
Let him come or let him stay. She would go inside.
Alworth followed. The door closed behind them.
