Which was why the bold young gentleman approaching them irritated him before he even stopped.
“Your Grace,” the fellow said with a confident bow, then turned his full charm on Beatrice. “And… Your Grace. Might I have the honor of the next dance?”
Edward nearly rolled his eyes.
He did not even attempt small talk.
Although perhaps that was preferable, as it meant one less performance to endure.
Beatrice smiled politely, too politely, which made Edward scoff lightly.
“I thank you, Sir, but?—”
“Please, humor me,” the man pressed, stepping closer than courtesy permitted. “It would brighten the entire room, I assure you.”
Edward felt the urge to throttle him.
The man’s gaze lingered too long on Beatrice’s face. Then lower. Immediately, heat surged through Edward’s chest.
Before he knew what he was doing, his hand had found her waist. Not gripping—he wasn’t a brute. But it just rested there as though it had always belonged.
Beatrice stiffened in surprise. So did he.
He withdrew his hand at once, his fingers curling.
Good God,what am I doing?
The young gentleman blinked at the gesture, his confidence wavering.
“I appreciate the offer,” Beatrice said gently, recovering first, “but I must decline. My husband and I were just about to grab refreshments.”
Edward nodded once, firmly endorsing her refusal.
The man bowed again, clearly disappointed but sensible enough to retreat. As he melted back into the crowd, Edward exhaled slowly, trying to steady the pulse he had no intention of acknowledging.
Sebastian, however, noticed immediately. He drew closer, his expression smug. “Interesting.”
“Don’t,” Edward warned under his breath.
“Oh, I must,” Sebastian countered, his tone gleeful. He patted Edward’s shoulder with maddening amusement. “Come, friend. Let us grab something for the ladies before you frighten another suitor into repentance.”
Edward gave him a flat look. “I did not frighten him.”
He exhaled through his nose and followed his friend toward the refreshments table. The crowd parted for them—one of the perks of their titles, he supposed—and the footmen straightened as they approached.
He selected two glasses of champagne and two lemonades, thinking automatically of Beatrice’s distaste for strong drink when she was tense. He hadn’t realized he had memorized the detail until now.
God help me.When did I begin noticing everything?
“You did frighten the poor man,” Sebastian was saying cheerfully. “It was magnificent. You nearly snapped the boy in half with a single gesture. And for a man who hasn’t looked at another woman all night?—”
“I was not?—”
“You seemed remarkably eager to remind him that Beatrice is married.”
Edward shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood, but Sebastian’s grin only widened, pleased to have struck something solid.
“I haven’t looked at any other woman,” he said stiffly, “because I’ve been listening to every blasted whisper in this ballroom. And ensuring that she”—he nodded toward Beatrice, who was speaking to Margaret across the room—“is not cornered or uncomfortable.”
