His breath caught in his throat. Therewasa reason, but it wasn’t one he could share with her. It was that he hadn’t wanted to appear the besotted husband to anyone, most especially to her, after all their talk about the purposes of their marriage.
“You know how it is,” he said with a shrug. “Once people are married, they spend time with others in social settings, as they spend so much time together at home.”
“Mm hmm,” she said, although it was clear she didn’t entirely believe him. “I would have liked to have danced.”
“With me?”
“Of course,” she said, her eyes down, not looking at him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, taken aback. He’d had no idea, but then… how could he, when he had barely looked in her direction?
She cleared her throat.
“Did anyone say anything about the diamond theft?”
“Not directly,” he said, still thinking about her desire to dance. “A few veiled comments.”
“The same for me,” she said. “How are your estates?”
“Fine,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “My father did so well, built them up, and put people he could rely on in charge. Ijust have to make sure to keep them afloat, prevent them from falling to ruin.”
“Is that what worries you?” she said, narrowing her eyes at him, and he knew then what she was thinking — she was seeing past all of the facades he had built up and was peering right into his soul.
“I… suppose the responsibility weighs on me,” he said with a sigh. “Their role was not meant for me.”
“I know,” she said, tilting her head, studying him, her eyes warm and understanding. “I fear failure as well. Of not belonging. I am not like other ladies, as you must realize.”
“Did you worry you wouldn’t marry?”
“No,” she said with a low laugh. “I worried that I would have to.”
“And here you are.”
“Yes,” she said, licking her lips as though she had more to say on the subject, but she kept it to herself. “What I feared was that my intellect wouldn’t be enough. That I would have to work that much harder to be taken seriously, because I am a woman.”
“That’s understandable,” he said, before noticing something marring her wrist.
Without thinking, he reached forward, fingers wrapping around her wrist as he tried to brush it off.
“It’s just ink,” she said, her voice nearly breathless, but she didn’t pull back from him as he thought she would. Instead, they stayed a breath away from one another, immovable, his hand holding hers.
They stared at each other, instinctively leaning forward, so close that their breath mingled.
He badly wanted to kiss her, but he had done that once already and feared that if he did so again — here, now — he would take it too far.
Yet he couldn’t fight the need to touch her.
“You said you wanted to dance.”
“I did.”
“Would you like to now?”
“Here?”
“Why not?”
She nodded slowly as he stood, holding a hand out toward her. She placed one hand in his, her other resting on his shoulder.
