“No.” His gaze held steady. “Only you.”
Her throat went dry, a nervous laugh barely eking past the tightness. “This might have been a bad idea.”
He smiled faintly. “Probably the worst ever.”
“And how will we rectify such a mistake?”
His smile deepened, part gent, part pirate. “Perhaps we shall simply have to start over and try another dance.”
Her heart banged against her ribs, for there was honestly nothing more she’d rather do.
Once again he led her through a spin, then pulled her close. “Well?” he prompted. “What say you?”
“I say you are very adept at the game of dance floor romance.”
He flashed an irresistible smile. “Oh, but I am not playing.”
Of course he had to be, but it stole her breath to realize that she desperately did not want this to be a charade. Somehow, despite the difference in their social stations, no matter the fact that she’d been caught stealing the very meat from his table, the pull of this man was more than she could resist.
The music stopped. So did they, but he did not release his hold.
“Henry, the dance has ended,” she prompted.
“Has it?” His gaze held hers with promises yet to be spoken.
Whispers shushed around them, those closest questioning the meaning of their ill-mannered refusal to leave the floor. For half a second she considered ignoring them and living forever here in his arms, but for the sake of his reputation, she murmured, “We should get back to your sister.”
A sheepish smile crept across his lips. “Yes, I suppose we should.”
Spell broken, she followed him to where Charity huddled next to Clara, both engaged in a conversation with a gentleman in a very fine frock coat with buff trousers. His back was towards their approach.
But Clara saw them very plainly, for something green flashed in her eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you two were going to snub us the rest of the evening.”
“And yet,” Charity chimed in, “we have been highly entertained in your absence. Allow me, Brother, to introduce a new acquaintance.”
The man turned, and when he did, Juliet’s blood drained to her feet, leaving her icy cold. She didn’t need to hear Charity’s introduction, for she knew him intimately well.
Colin Chamberlain.
Her former betrothed.
Chapter 15
Juliet Finch. Fancy seeing you here.”
Juliet clenched her hands so tightly, her knuckles cracked. Of all the horrible surprises, this snake had to show up atthisball?
Colin locked eyes with her, a smug tilt to his head, the cleft in his chin more pronounced. He’d always been prideful of that Chamberlain feature. It shamed her now to think she’d once admired it. Admired him. But so had all the other ladies of Cheltenham. He’d made sure of it. And to think she’d fallen victim to that charm.
Henry looked between them. “You know each other?”
“We …” She swallowed hard, despising the shrewd gleam in Colin’s dark eyes. He was waiting to hear how she’d answer. His words had been nothing but a platter with a sharp knife, poised to slice apart anything she might say.
Well. So be it.
“We are acquainted,” she said simply.
“Unfortunately.” Colin snorted, almost covering the word.
