“Miss Carlow, please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Valentine. He expressed a wish to meet with you,” Lady Haven said.
“Mr. Valentine.” Beth sank into an indecently deep curtsey.
“Miss Carlow, would you care to dance?”
“Indeed, I would be honored.” His hand held hers a trifle longer than necessary, and Beth fought the urge to snatch it back.
You can do this.
Beth thought about her father, who lay in a bed many miles from here. She had to do this for him and her mother.
She took the hand he held out and walked to the dance floor at his side. It was a waltz, and Mr. Valentine swung her into his arms. Beth didn’t stiffen as her body brushed his. She stayed relaxed and fixed a silly, besotted smile on her face, then prepared to dazzle the man with compliments.
God help her, she would do this and do it right. He would have no reason to doubt her intentions.
I want that book above all things, Miss Carlow.
“It is refreshing to dance with a woman who asks no questions of me. Like most powerful men, I am often besieged by those wanting information that I am not at liberty to offer.”
“Pompous fool,” someone muttered. Looking around, she watched Lord Levermarch dance by with his beautiful wife in his arms. Had it been she who had spoken? Mr. Valentine appeared not to have heard the words.
“I can imagine a man as powerful as you are often finds it taxing to deal with those that are beneath him.” Beth nearly choked on the words. He preened, clearly happy.
“I knew as soon as I saw you, you would understand.” The fingers on her back stroked her skin through her dress. Beth fought the shudder.
Mr. Valentine then proceeded to wax on about himself and his importance for the remainder of the dance, and she made herself smile and hang on his every word. It was a relief when the dance ended. However, that was short-lived.
“May I take you through to supper, Miss Carlow?”
“I would be honored, Mr. Valentine, but I understand if your duties take you from me.”
“Our king has much to occupy his time; he has no need of me at this moment.”
They walked. He smiled, and she was sure her smile looked stiff and fake on her face. The supper room was full, and much to her horror she found the Deville brothers—all of them—and Abby there.
They’d been acquaintances and on the way to becoming friends through Mary and her association with Nathan when Beth left London. The look Abby sent her left her in no doubt there was no longer any chance of friendship between them.
“Do you read, Valentine?” The words came from the Duchess of Yardly, who was studying the vast array of dishes on the table.
“I beg your pardon?” Valentine looked shocked anyone would ask such a question of him.
“Read, man. Do you?” The duchess banged her cane hard on the floor.
“I—ah, of course, Duchess. My position as the king’s close confidant is such that reading is imperative.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Lord Raine said. “You’d be of no use to him otherwise.”
“I assure you I am of vital importance.” Mr. Valentine was not impressed by Lord Raine’s comment.
“Do you like Roman mythology?” the duchess demanded.
“I’m not sure why anyone would,” Beth heard Michael Deville mutter.
“I heard that, Deville,” the duchess said.
“There are currently four Devilles in the room, Duchess. You will need to be more specific,” Gabriel said.
Nathan had not looked at her. He was busy filling his plate, which only added to her belief he no longer cared about her, which in turn gave strength to the fact there was another woman in his life.
