Robert stood in the middle of Charlotte and Ewan’s ballroom with a party in full swing around him. Normally he might have been enjoying himself. Tonight he could not. Tonight he felt restless and unhappy, just as he had during the past few days after his encounter with Matthew and Isabel in their home.
His friends disapproved of him. All of them. Once upon a time, he hadn’t let that fact trouble him. He was different than those he spent time with, that was all.
Only right now he couldn’t dismiss the way their eyes moved to him, the way they darted away. He was on the precipice of losing them all. And their disapproval made him doubt himself like never before.
He knew the feeling. He could name it.Shame. That was not something he often let himself feel. And yet here it was, sitting heavy on his chest, growing heavier each time he caught the stare of a friend from across the room and saw their eyes flit over him like he was a stranger.
There was a ripple through the crowd as he stood brooding, and his gaze followed theirs as the room turned to watch Ewan’s footman announce, “The Countess of Gainsworth.”
Robert’s chest tightened as Katherine stepped into the room. She was, of course, stunning. Her dark hair was expertly styled to frame her beautiful face to its best advantage. Her gown was a cornflower blue silk, elaborately designed with swirls of darker blue stitching. It fit across her breasts perfectly, the swells peeking out the top like gifts waiting to be unwrapped. As she stepped forward, her hips twitched a little and his gaze was drawn to the seductive movement.
“…whose mistress she’ll be…” one of the guests behind him murmured, allowing him to catch a fraction of their conversation.
He stiffened and so did she, although she could not have heard what had been said as she was so far away. Perhaps someone else had said something, hissed something, as she passed by. Her cheeks pinkened, and Robert’s heart sank a little.
Isabel was right, of course, in what she’d said to him when she was scolding him for ungentlemanly behavior. Katherine had been damaged by the circumstances of her husband’s death. Society would never look at her the same again. Oh, they would quiet about it, of course. Some new scandal would come along and Katherine’s would fade. But it would never fully disappear. Never fully heal.
He watched as Charlotte and Ewan crossed to her. Katherine smiled, but he saw tension in the expression. Even with a friend, she did not truly relax. Didn’t truly trust.
God knew he understood that.
Charlotte embraced her, and he could see the duchess introducing her to Ewan. Katherine smiled as the couple signed back and forth in that private little language of theirs. Katherine looked at Ewan when she spoke to him—she didn’t speak around him as some people did. Robert couldn’t help but smile at that fact. It infuriated him when people did that.
The couple talked to her for a moment, then she touched Charlotte’s arm and the couple walked away. Katherine drew a long breath, then pivoted and started across the room toward the wall.
Robert began to move before he even realized he wanted to, trailing after her as she maneuvered through the crowd. She turned to put her back to the wall, and that was when she saw him. Her breath caught, just as it had a few nights prior when he tried to approach her. Her eyes widened, the dark brown nearly disappearing in smoky black. Her lips parted, inviting as hell, and then tightened as her demeanor shifted. She folded her arms, putting them in front of herself like a shield, even as her gaze flitted toward the door and he could see she would run from him.
This time he was not about to allow that. He stepped up swiftly, cutting off her escape. Her cheeks filled with high color and she glared up at him. He started. She truly despised him. That was clear in every part of her demeanor.
Interesting since he didn’t think they’d met more than once, a very long time ago. Who had introduced them? Charlotte, perhaps? Meg? He couldn’t recall. It was a flutter of memory.
“My lady,” he said, pushing the thoughts from his mind as he gave her his best smile. The one that melted any steely woman.
She did not melt. If anything, her expression went stonier. Colder. “Your Grace,” she growled, making the address sound like a curse.
“How nice it is to see you again,” he said. “My condolences on your loss.”
Her nostrils flared slightly and she drew in a long breath before she said, “Thank you. I did not think you knew the earl well.”
“I did not,” he said. “But I can imagine his loss is not easy.”
She stared at him, silent. It was then he noticed the other ladies along the wall were edging closer, watching and listening. Katherine’s gaze slipped toward them and the pink in her cheeks darkened further. He smiled. This could be his way to pierce the veil of her distain.
After all, she would not wish to make a scene.
“I wondered, Lady Gainsworth, if you had space on your dance card for the next with me?” he asked.
She swallowed and the action trembling down her long, slender neck and made him wish to trace the line of it with his fingertips. His lips.
“How dare—” she began, her voice elevating slightly.
He held up a hand and whispered, “People are watching.”
She let her gaze slide to the staring women and her lips slammed together, becoming an impossible-to-cross line. She took another deep breath and then said, “I would be pleased to dance with you, Your Grace. Thank you.”
He heard sarcasm drip from every word, but he smiled as if she had accepted sweetly and held out an elbow. She hesitated, staring at his outstretched arm like it was a snake that would surely strike. He waited her out, keeping his face impassive as if this long pause was usual.
It was not, of course. He’d spent his life with women tripping over themselves to get to him. This was the first time one acted like he was poison. It was an interesting experience, to say the least.
