“Miss Mossant, my set, I believe.” The words crashed into her thoughts almost violently.
Dressed in a cream-colored jacket and an embroidered turquoise waistcoat, the Earl of Kensington could not be more dissimilar to the vicar. His breeches were practically molded to his thighs, and she thought that perhaps he wore padding beneath his stockings. The heels on his buckled shoes would ensure that he stood taller than her, despite her own above-average height.
Rhoda had wanted to refuse him, but in doing so would have had to decline other offers as well. A lady could not deny such a request. Not if she wished to dance with any others that night.
Rhoda twisted her mouth into a welcoming smile.
Her friend Cecily wasn’t here. Regardless, she’d understand.
The despicable earl had lied and tricked Cecily into marrying him, and then betrayed her in the worst possible manner. Rhoda knew he was not to be trusted. And yet, here he stood, all affability, affluence, and charm.
Although Kensington had paid for his misdeeds, Rhoda could never forgive what he’d done to one of her best friends. Even tonight, he’d put Rhoda in an uncomfortable position. He should not have claimed a dance with her. He ought to have remained in the country with his new wife and baby.
If she refused him, she’d be forced to sit all other dances out.
Might as well get this over with.
She turned to Mr. White and nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.”
She rose hastily, uneasy with the emotions the vicar evoked.
He remained sitting, unwilling, it seemed, to remove himself from the memory they had been reliving together. Scrutinizing her, he nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Regret caught at her to leave their conversation unfinished. She brushed it away. The past must remain in the past. For all of their sakes.
She dipped her chin, signaling the end of their conversation.
Placing one hand on Lord Kensington’s arm, she allowed herself to be whisked onto the dance floor for the lively set. Taking her position, she determined to forget the unnerving encounter with Mr. White. She ought to be having the time of her life!
“Your looks are even more dazzling tonight than ever.” Lord Kensington stood across from her. His compliment only reminded her of what he’d done to Cecily.
“Thank you.” She’d appear sullen and prideful if she failed to respond. And others were watching them. Both the ladies and the gentlemen.
The music commenced, and he reached across the gap to take her hand. Thank heavens they wore gloves. Her skin might have crawled if she’d had to endure the touch of his flesh.
She wished he’d not singled her out this evening.
Dancers all around her smiled and laughed as they executed the well-known steps. Several ladies’ gazes followed her partner covetously. Despite his despicable past, no one could deny Lord Kensington was a most handsome and charismatic gentleman.
Initially, as they executed the steps of the dance, he kept his distance and did not attempt to hold her gaze for longer than was considered appropriate. The second time they came together, however, his hand lingered at her waist, and he brushed too close to her body for comfort.
“I cannot identify your scent, Miss Mossant.” He leaned his face into her neck. “Roses? But there is a hint of something else? Your own particular magic? Are you casting spells?”
The words struck her as more of an accusation than anything else. She did her best to widen the gap between them. His flirtatiousness set her skin crawling. He persisted in closing the distance between them and leaving his hand on her longer than necessary.
She hoped no one else noticed.
A lady’s reputation was all she had.
Except, he was an earl. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything to dishonor her in public. He’d mended his ways. Or so everyone said—and by everyone she meant theton.
A time or two, she spotted Mr. White watching them with a scowl. Obviously, he disapproved. Of her? Or of her dance partner?
The question needled.
She barely knew Mr. White. She hoped to never speak with him again, as a matter of fact. They had shared one afternoon, one tragic afternoon together, and each time she saw him, the terrible emotions of that day would resurface. Such a phenomenon did not lend itself to friendship.
Lord Kensington caught her gaze, and she stretched her lips into a smile. She’d always loved dancing, moving to the music, talking and flirting with those around her.
