She smiled as she met Lady Arabella in the center and stepped back. When Harewood returned to take her hand, his voice was low. “Did Lord Sommerset say so?”
“No, you did, to him this afternoon.”
They joined hands with the other couple, completing the steps.
When they returned, they faced each other before stepping forward to meet. He was obviously shocked. “My motivation has only been to help you.”
They stepped back and the pattern restarted. At the next opportunity, she made her position clear. “No, your motivation was for the school, which I’m sure the duchess will appreciate when I tell her.”
She watched him as he stepped away, his movements far stiffer than usual. Was he angry? He truly had no cause.Shewas the one who was angry, but she smiled, actually pleased he was not happy. She’d never thought of herself as vengeful, but perhaps he’d struck something deep inside her. Socrates said that all humans had a beast within and it was those who did not rein it in who became tyrants. She’d never understood that particular philosophy, as she couldn’t imagine not having control over one’s desires, but now she did, as she wanted Lord Harewood to feel guilty. Even as the thought arrived, it tangled with her sympathy of his plight. Because now, she knew what it was to love and have no hope it could ever be returned.
Harewood returned to stand beside her once again. “Are you not pleased with your own success? You made it happen. I only made a suggestion.”
As they stepped away again, she could not respond immediately. Finally, they came back together. “I didn’t know Ineededsuccess. I only thought to attract a husband. To think, I had no idea I must first be ‘fixed.’” Her resentment colored her tone and she received an odd look from Lady Arabella as they came together. Dory forced a smile as she nodded and stepped back.
“You did not need to be fixed.” His brows lowered. “I only wished to help you in your goal of finding a suitable man. You still may.”
Oh, she had, but he couldn’t see that. A sudden thought sent a cold chill through her. When they linked hands again, she kept her voice low. “Did you place a bet at your club that I would marry this year?”
His hand jerked as if slapped, but they separated once again before he could reply.
As the dance ended, he bowed and took her arm immediately as he leaned in. “I did not place a bet on you. I would not be so callous.”
A slight relief helped her keep from squeezing his arm as they made their way back toward Lady Sommerset, but the vengeful beast inside her couldn’t allow him to feel good about what he’d done. “That is too bad, as I have accepted Lord Dearling’s proposal. You could have been very happy having placed such a bet.”
He stopped in midstride, causing her to catch her balance. His head turned and he stared at her. “Why? The man cannot appreciate you. You will be bored within the year.”
That she agreed didn’t help the sting of tears in the back of her eyes. “Yes, but he at least loves me, and I will have a home of my own before my mother can ruin my prospects.”
Harewood’s arm beneath her hand seemed made of granite and a tick started beneath his right ear. “I do not think this is a wise decision.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him, despite his face starting to blur. “And I do not care what you think.” Nor did she care about standing there with him. Ignoring protocols, she let go of his arm and made her way to Lady Sommerset on her own, not caring if he followed for appearances’ sake or not.
She had just reached Lady Sommerset, who watched her with her husband, when Lord Dearling stepped up. “Lady Dorothea, may I have the honor of this dance?”
Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile, swallowing down her tears. “I would most appreciate a dance with you, Lord Dearling.”
As her future husband led her to the dance floor, the musicians began, and the strains of a waltz filled the room. She stifled groan. Surely, the evening could become no worse.
She took her position opposite Lord Dearling, glancing behind him to see Harewood heading for the terrace. Just then Lord Leighhall stepped into his place on the dance floor and into her view. The viscount looked past his partner, and studied her. A shiver raced through her just before she took her first stumbling step.
Chapter Nineteen
August, 1817
One month later
“Well, show himin, man!” Felton barked at his butler then regretted it immediately. “I apologize. Please bring him in.”
The man simply nodded and turned on his heel.
Not sure why he was so irritated with everything, he strode to the window and tried to focus on the rolling lawns and forest beyond, but the lawns were no longer green and the leaves had turned a dead yellow.
“Lord Harewood. I’m Anthony Taylour.”
He turned back toward the room, determined to hold in his temper. It wasn’t as if he were angry, just frustrated. Frustrated that Dory was to wed Dearling, who would have no idea how to protect her, even if he were smart enough to recognize a threat. That the man had no understanding or appreciation for who she was made the arrangement even less palatable.
He still didn’t understand why she’d accepted, or why a low, burning rage simmered in his gut at the thought of her being Lady Dearling. Since being correct made him happy, as she’d pointed out, it must be because he’d been wrong that she would wait until the next season to choose a husband. He was rarely wrong.
