“What little faith you have in me,” her father said with a smile before looking back at his dance partner. “But how could I refuse Miss Sharpe’s blatant challenge?”
That perpetual brow arched a touch higher, and a torrent of unwanted attraction washed over Logan. He tried to steel his nerves.
“I did no such thing,” Faith said, a small smile on her lips. “I merely said that this country was lacking for gentlemen who are proficient dance partners. Why, I had to dance with Jeanne at a house party last summer because there were too few gentlemen.”
“It’s true,” Jeanne said. “Of course, my brothers were away at the time on a hunting trip. But thankfully, Faith is tall like myself. We were quite compatible.”
Faith smiled at her friend.
“No gentlemen? That’s preposterous,” Mr. Harris said, waving a hand at his son. “Surely my boy here has asked you to dance before?”
The joyful atmosphere dimmed slightly as Faith looked at Logan. A sense of yearning carved through him at the idea of dancing with Faith, but he ignored it.
“No,” she said softly, causing his blood to pump harder through his veins. “I’ve not had the pleasure.”
Her tone indicated that it would be anything but pleasurable to be held by Logan, and while logically he agreed, there was a part of him that wanted to prove her wrong.
“Logan doesn’t like to dance, Papa,” Arabella said. “Don’t you remember?”
“Why ever not?”
All eyes turned to Logan. A small, anxious part of him began to beat to life, and he had to take a deep breath to move past it. Inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, he donned a laissez-faire attitude.
“Because there are far more interesting things to do,” he said, moving around the table to sit.
The rest moved around the room to find their seats at his signal. Faith took the seat furthest from his left, next to his father, while Arabella and Jeanne sat on his right. Two servants came out of a door in the corner that led to the kitchen, holding silver-covered food trays.
“What could possibly be more interesting that dancing with a lovely lady?” his father asked as he leaned toward Faith. “I’ve not had that much fun in years.”
“It is a miracle that you were able to do so,” Logan said, unable to keep a condescending tone out of his voice as he spoke. “Considering you haven’t stretched your legs properly all winter.”
His father sneered at him.
“And you know everything I do in private?” he countered.
“Lord, do not tell me,” Logan murmured.
“I wish you could have attended the McTavish banquet last year, Mr. Harris,” Faith said, interrupting the two as she looked at the elderly man. A servant spooned a cream of asparagus soup into their bowls. “I should have very much enjoyed your company.”
“Ah, I was under the weather last year, I’m afraid. My old bones will not hold me like they used to.”
“That’s only because you’ve not worked them for so long,” Arabella said. “Perhaps if Miss Sharpe isn’t too put out, she might come visit from time to time.”
“I would enjoy that—”
“No.”
The definitive tone of Logan’s voice startled everyone into silence.Damn. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Though he was often cutting to Faith, he knew he had crossed a line. Clearing his throat, he spoke.
“What I mean to say is, no doubt Miss Sharpe is very busy.”
“Not at all,” she said defiantly, her challenging emerald-eyed gaze locked on his face. “In fact, it would be my pleasure to visit Mr. Harris.” She turned back to face him. “If you will have me.”
“How could I say no to you?” he said charmingly, and Logan wished there was something more substantial on his plate to stab at, instead of soup.
Good lord. Were there ever two more annoying people? And his father should be ashamed, blatantly flirting with a woman young enough to be his daughter.
“I think it is a fine idea,” Jeanne said, taking a spoonful of soup. “It’s been so long since anyone has seen you out and about, Mr. Harris.”
