“Then give me something to smile about.”
Her eyes flashed. “You chose this moment.”
“I am doing my duty, wife,” he said.
“For convenience and control,” she said quietly.
James guided her through the turn with precision. “Lower your voice.”
“Why?” she asked. “So they do not see us arguing?”
“So they do not hear,” he corrected.
Her mouth curved faintly. “Then we should seem to speak as lovers.”
James’s breath caught. “Careful.”
Her gaze lifted to his. “Or what?”
He did not answer. He pulled her closer, their bodies aligning in a way that made conversation impossible to ignore and impossible to hear.
To anyone watching, it would look intimate. Whispered words. Secret smiles.
“Better,” Eleanor murmured.
James felt his pulse in his throat. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am.”
He turned her again, his hand firm at her back. “You danced with him too easily.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You left me alone, James. At our ball. What was I to do?”
Before James could reply, Eleanor continued, with what he knew was really the issue at hand.
“And you expected me to accept it quietly.”
James’s grip tightened. “You knew why.”
“No,” Eleanor said softly. “I assumed.”
“Assumed what?”
“That you did not care,” she replied.
James’s jaw clenched. “That is not true.”
“And yet you left,” she said.
He felt irritation rise, sharp and unhelpful. “You enjoyed being asked?”
She laughed quietly. “You seemed toenjoywatching us. Perhaps I should have danced this dance with another.”
He stiffened. “That is not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” Eleanor asked.
James searched for an answer that did not betray him. “I am angry because you invited speculation.”
