Beth laughs. “Albie, show her a good time, would you, so she doesn’t pout all evening?” Albie salutes and Beth grins, gently prying her fingers from Gwen’s with a playful smile. She takes Bobby’s arm. “All right, young man, show me your moves.”
“I’ve been practicing,” Bobby insists, letting her drag him gamely to the floor.
“Do you want to take the first set?” Albie asks.
Gwen shakes her head, glancing over at James. “Can’t leave this poor sod all on his own. Demeroven,” she prompts, waving him closer so he’s not standing awkwardly apart, on the other side of the hole left by Beth and Bobby. “Mason went to Oxford as well.”
“Right,” James says. “Heard a lot of good things about you,” James says, offering Albie a truly uncomfortable smile.
“From Lady Gwen?” Albie asks.
“No,” James says quickly. Gwen laughs and Albie smiles. “I mean, no, not—not only from Lady Gwen. My cousin sings your praises. I—” He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck.
Albie laughs. “No harm done. She’s a menace,” he adds, nudging Gwen. “But Miss Bertram is a delight.”
“She is,” Gwen confirms brightly to James. Albie huffs, rolling his eyes at her. She’ll never argue over Beth’s many, many positive attributes. “And Bobby’s become an even better dancer.”
“He has,” Albie agrees grudgingly. “You two might have been at school together,” Albie says, glancing at James.
“We were,” James says, eyes tracking Bobby and Beth on the floor.
“Oh?” Gwen says, surprised. He acted as if they were just introduced.
“I mean, I saw him,” James says quickly, blinking before turning back to her. “We never had classes together. Don’t think we ever spoke. What’s this then?” he asks, flipping his scorecard.
“Spot-the-Scion,” Albie says. “First one to cross off all the names gets—what?”
Gwen grins. “Full betting rights at Ascot. The winner gets to decide how much we bet and on which races, and gets to keep the spoils.”
“We?” James asks.
“Lady Gwen’s finally deigned to let me and Mr. Mason into her little debutante game. What’s the tally column for?” Albie asks, peering at his card.
“Oh, you have to rate the gents,” Gwen says, laughing as Albie rolls his eyes.
“Of course.”
“And the second column?” James asks.
“If you spot all the sons in a family, you get a bonus. We’ve got spares galore this year,” she adds, glancing over at Beth and Bobby.
Bobby twirls Beth around with a wide grin. The blue gown, her beautiful brown hair, her gorgeous eyes—God, Gwen wishes she could be the one on the floor with her. Watching isn’t bad though. It’s giving her all kinds of ideas for later tonight.
She glances at James when she feels her cheeks starting to heat, trying to banish thoughts of a far less vertical dance. She meant to just check in on him, but finds him staring at Beth and Bobby, almost transfixed. A strange protectiveness rises in her gut. He can’t be looking at Beth that way. They’re cousins.
More importantly, Beth ishers.
She takes a swig of her champagne and looks back out at the ballroom, jaw clenched. She can’t get jealous anytime a man so much as looks at Beth. If she does, she’ll be in a state the whole season. Beth’s only becoming more beautiful and graceful, and without the weight of a match on her shoulders, she’s downright joyfully dancing with Bobby now.
Her beautiful, brave, smart, funny Beth.
No one deserves her. Not even Gwen. But she’s got her anyway, and she’ll never let her go to some man purely for society’s sake. No matter what Father says, she’s not interested in finding someone who will tolerate their “lifestyle.” She just wants their life together.
James is still staring when Beth and Bobby finish their set and Gwen finds that she’s grinding her teeth. God, how is she going to make it through the season?
She’s so focused on her stupid jealousy she almost misses it as Bobby guides Beth back to their little group.
“You didn’t dance,” Beth accuses Albie.
