She frowned as she glanced at him. “Why?”
“Is it not obvious? Because I despise my family and everything they stand for.” He smiled at another set of guests. There were plenty—he supposed this was what happened when a duchess sent the invitations.
“You despise your family? Why?”
“This is hardly a conversation for the present time.”
“If you would rather not tell me, you may just say so.” She exchanged her glower for a smile as yet more guests entered the house.
“Very well: I would rather not tell you. Satisfied?”
“Not at all,” she said icily.
They said nothing more as they finally finished greeting the endless line of guests and entered the ballroom together.
“Smile,” he reminded her. “If you can remember how.”
She stiffened under the hand on her back. A dangerous place for his hand to be—it made him think of all the other places he’d touched her.
“Perhaps you should leave,” she said, her voice equally low but her eyes flashing a little too brightly when she looked up at him.
Good, this was good. He needed her anger, not her desire. He had more than enough desire for the both of them.
“And here I was thinking you delighted in my company,” he murmured.
“I have no idea what gave you that impression.”
“Oh, I do.” He leant in closer, the warm press of her arm against his chest his own personal lure. “If you recall, when we were in the closet, you—”
“Enough!” She pushed him back with a hand on his chest and seemed to realise it a second after he did, curling her fingers into a fist and snatching it back. Her colour was high and she looked abominably pretty. “Seeing as you never wanted to marry me in the first place, maybe I should be the one to call off the engagement.”
“I don’t think you would.” He smirked at her. “You enjoy kissing me too much to—”
She did not slap him, but he saw the temptation written across her face, and he knew he had crossed a line. Taunted her too far. Hurt and anger crossed her face and she yanked her arm free.
“Annabelle,” he said, reaching for her, “wait.”
With a dexterity he had not expected, she dodged him and weaved through the crush, ignoring several people who called to her.
Damn. He curled his hand into a fist, trying to ignore the urge to find the nearest drink. That was yet another promise he had made to her.
What was it about her that made him want to do this? To hurt her?
Louisa raised her glass from where she stood nearby. “That went well,” she said dryly. “You truly are talented at pushing people away.”
“Usually that is not an issue.” He ground his teeth together. This evening had been a disaster already, and he could feel the Dowager’s eyes on him. The temptation to confront her conflicted with the need to chase after Annabelle and erase the hurt on her face.
She had no right inspiring a protective instinct in him when he had spent five years pretending he had none.
“She isn’t usual.” Louisa flicked her fingers after Annabelle. “Go after her and use some of that charm to repair the damage before it’s too late. Then, unless you’ve changed your mind about marrying her yourself, introduce her to me. I’ll look after her—and a deal sight better than you will, judging by your performance.”
At the thought of introducing her to other gentlemen, every muscle in Jacob’s body tensed. But, of course, Louisa was right, and he didn’t want to marry Annabelle. She deserved someone better than him. Someone who could love her instead of just wanting her; someone who wasn’t despised by the vast majority of Society. Even his title didn’t make up for that, and she wasn’t someone who cared about position or wealth. She wanted respect and peace.
Two things he did not command.
“Go,” Louisa said, shooing him away. “Grovel. There is nothing more a young woman likes than to see the man she hates on his knees before her.”
“I’m not adept at grovelling.”
