“Then your wife would know precisely who is managing this situation. And your Lady Grayson would also know that it is entirely impossible to meet Celine and not love her.”
“So… I should tell her your intentions are honorable.” It was inappropriate to roll one’s eyes at a viscount. Wasn’t it?
Glancing the other direction, I caught sight of Kit across the room, staring forlornly at Lady Davina dancing with some dandy I didn’t recognize.
“Yes,” I snapped. “Shouldn’t Lady Grayson be worrying about her brother? Instead of me?”
“She does. Constantly. No one has caught his eye.”
“I don’t know about that,” I countered.
“What do you know?”
“Officially? Nothing. Unofficially…”
“Tell me.”
“I didn’t say a word. But he’s brooding in the direction of a certain Lady Davina.”
“Lady Davina... That is a… bold choice.”
“A choice that might keep your wife occupied.”
“Might indeed.”
“Will?” A familiar husky feminine voice called from the other direction. “Oh, Lord Grayson, good to see you. I don’t suppose I could borrow Will? He promised me the next set.”
“Of course. I believe I’m due on the floor as well.” He nodded to me. “Hart.”
“Grayson.”
Celine’s warm hand found mine, and she pulled me brazenly to the floor with little concern for the spectacle. Couples were lining up for the waltz, eyes fixed firmly on us instead of their partners. Confidently, she settled my hand on her waist before grabbing the other and lacing our fingers together inappropriately.
My person and her gown fussed with to her satisfaction, she finally met my gaze. Something was wrong. Something about her eyes, perhaps a bit more downturned than usual? Or the divot between her brows? Her lower lip worried slightly more? Maybe the prissy way she adjusted her gown? Or the tight way she held herself?
It was very, very wrong.
“Love?”
She swallowed, shaking her head. “Not here.”
The music began and as promised, she led me through the rusty motions.
“Just tell me you’re all right,” I begged.
“Physically, I’m unharmed. But not here.” Her words were low under her breath. Barely audible over the orchestra. She caught my eyes once more, holding them, willing me to understand.
It went against every instinct I had. To let her distress lay there, untouched. It was a near physical ache. But I nodded. I clenched my teeth and swallowed the knot in my throat before I managed the motion, but I did.
“Thank you,” she whispered, pulling me closer. The unfamiliar steps were loosening once more and I was able to take the lead. Breathing her in helped. She was safe, warm, and vanilla-scented. She slipped her hand from my shoulder to rest above her mark on my chest, and my heart gave an approving thump beneath her hand.
With a deep breath, she rolled her shoulders back slightly. It did nothing to improve her already flawless posture but seemed to fortify her.
“Do you know, I think this is the grumpiest anyone has ever looked dancing with me.”
“Lies. Gabriel was always brooding. And Wayland? Certainly grumpier than me.”
“I never danced with Michael.”
