Sometimes, at moments like these, she remembered the moment between them on their wedding night. The thickness of the air, and the way he had looked at her. But since then, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They had dined together, travelled together, and Nathanial had not so much as alluded to it.
Theo was starting to believe it was a dream.
“You are rude,” she scolded as he led her to the forming couples.
His lips twitched. “It is becoming abundantly clear I am destined to be a great disappointment to you.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I have an excellent sense of self-preservation.”
“You’re abominable,” she informed him.
“That’s right.” He steered her expertly through the dance, his hand ghosting over hers, the touch so delicate she might have almost imagined it. “No, don’t tuck in your lip. You’re exceptionally charming when you jut it at me.”
“I hate you.”
“Quite so.”
The amusement lurking in his eyes drew a laugh from her. “As payback, I must dance with severalextremelypersonable gentlemen to make you jealous.”
“A jealous husband?” he said with a lopsided smile. “Surely not.”
“You must pretend to be, you know. Otherwise how else will people believe we’re in love?”
His smile widened. “Of course. How else?”
“And, to be sure, I will flirt with themshockingly.”
“I should expect nothing less,” he said, and although she knew he was teasing—their entire conversation had been in jest—she felt just the flicker of disappointment as the dance ended and he bowed over her hand.
He did not kiss it as a true romantic gentleman ought to have done.
Of course, he was not a true romantic gentleman; he was her husband. The two were, in her mind, entirely different. What she needed to do was find a gentleman who might be persuaded to fill that role.
With that thought in mind, she went in search of her next partner.
And thus the evening passed. She danced with any number of young men, but to her disappointment, none were up to snuff. Most, aside from the truly awkward, were amenable to light flirtation, but that was not enough for Theo. Nathanial,when he was in the mood for it, could flirt; she knew from him how little flirtation meant. Besides, none quite fit her idea of what a true hero should be.
As night turned into early morning, Theo resigned herself to failure once again.
That was, until she beheld the gentleman that emerged from the card room.
He was tall—taller than Nathanial and indeed most other gentlemen in the ballroom—with dark hair swept with careless grace across his forehead. The lighting wasn’t bright enough to see the precise colour of his eyes, but she felt certain they would be a dreamy dark; a colour she could sink her entire soul into.
What’s more, he was dressed in the height of fashion. Not as a dandy, whose aspirations towards fashion she held in the deepest contempt, but as a Corinthian. His coat was perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders, his buttons were highly polished, and his breeches clasped shapely calves.
He was, in short, her every romantic ideal.
She fluttered her fan, hardly listening to Lady Tabitha, who stood beside her and jabbered about beaus. Perhaps, if she was lucky, the strange man would approach her.
He glanced up and met her gaze from across the room. The world stilled and her sense of being shifted, as though gravity drew her towards him. This was what love should feel like: an undeniable connection that almost shimmered in the air between them.
Heavens, she ought to have met him before she married Nathanial.
Suddenly aware she’d been holding his gaze for far too long, she glanced away.
“And so I told him that I couldn’tpossiblyconsider his suit,” Lady Tabitha continued beside her, oblivious to the fact Theo’s attention was fixed on the man who strolled deliberately towards them.
