The music inside started again, a waltz.
“We have time to catch this one. Do you have room on your card for me?” he asked.
She held up her nearly empty dance card.
“That’s what happens when we come in a group with three women and two men,” he said. “I thought they would have provided more stand-ins for this kind of situation.” He took her card and wrote in his name for the next dance and every dance until the dinner break. He wrote in his name for that as well.
“I don’t want to be a charity case.” She snatched it out of his hand.
“Reese,” he said, stepping back to appraise her appearance, “there is nothing charity about you, except for the good things you do for other people. Look, I enjoy your company. You’re no wallflower, and it’s time you stopped playing the role of one. Let’s just spend the evening getting reacquainted.” He held out his arm to her.
“Are you doing this because Kaitlyn sent you to make me feel better?” She didn’t look at him.
“No,” he said, “I recognize you as a damsel in distress.”
Reese grimaced.
“Youaredistressed, aren’t you?” Jem grinned.
She finally laughed and took his arm. “All right. I’ll leave my pity party. I know I make these things out to be worse than they are. Let me loose on a project to help people, and I’m totally in my element.”
“I guess what you need to do then is find a way to make these kinds of activities your element.” He patted her hand on his arm. “If we’re going to make it into this next dance, we need to go.”
She took a deep breath and allowed him to guide her onto the floor.
***
Reese pretended not to watch Jem as he talked with some of the other guests and practiced his accent. He’d always had a good ear for languages, and he’d already made improvements.
During the dancing, he had been the perfect companion—charming, chatty, and compassionate. He’d made it easy for her to dance with him, even the country dances. Why did he have to be so attentive? He made Reese want it to be real.
Jem bowed to them and turned around. With a grin, he strode toward her and picked up a couple of glasses from a servant on his way.
“Has it been as bad as you thought?” He bowed and offered her a glass.
“Actually, it hasn’t.” She accepted it, surprised a little at her response.
He took a sip from his glass and shifted his gaze to the dance floor. They watched the other dancers in silence. There was only half an hour left of the ball, and Reese thought the guests were looking a little fatigued. She knew she was.
“Tell me more about this nonprofit you’re going to work for,” Jem said, pulling her from her thoughts.
“It’s a program to help high school dropouts,” Reese said. “It focuses on two things—job skills but also reading since a lot of them are functionally illiterate.”
“What’s that?” he said, looking curious.
“Someone who’s functionally illiterate,” Reese said, hoping he wasn’t pretending to be interested, “can read and understand some words but not well enough to handle things like job applications, bank statements, complex signs, or even past-due notices. It’s hard for them to find work, and it’s easy for them to be taken advantage of.”
“You always were a do-gooder,” he said.
“That’s not a bad thing.” Reese tried not to feel hurt, but it didn’t work.
“Don’t take offense where none was intended.” Jem lifted his glass, as though in toast. “It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”
Reese didn’t say anything. The sooner the evening ended, and with it his self-appointed role of flattering dance partner, the better.
“Kaitlyn’s signaling us.” Jem pointed to the entrance, where the others had gathered.
“Let’s see what’s going on.” Reese put her nearly full glass on the tray carried by a passing servant. Jem offered her his arm, and she accepted it.
