“Thomas,” she began.
“Dilly,” her brother responded, his voice taking on a warning note.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, and in a flash, Owen again thought of Sophia. Anguish at the senseless way she’d been taken from his family filled him anew. She should be there, having fun, perhaps even dancing with Lord Smythe.
Lady Adelia was lucky to have the opportunity to squeeze every bit of joy from life. And curiously—wastefully—she wasn’t taking advantage of the chances all around her at every gathering. She was squandering her youth.
“Let her dance with me, for God’s sake,” Owen bit out, feeling his fury surge. “It is not as if her card is filled or anyone else is lining up to set down his name upon it.”
Chapter Six
Lady Adelia gasped,and her gloved hand flew to her mouth. Her brother’s face whitened as much as the previous stocky man’s had reddened.
Strange,Owen thought,how anger could alter someone’s features in varying ways.Moreover, his own rage had dissipated as quickly as it had come. These good people had nothing to do with Sophia or her murderer. He couldn’t fathom why he’d caused Lady Adelia a moment’s discomfort.
Belatedly, he realized how deeply he had insulted her. “What I meant to say, my lady, is how happy I am to put my name next to as many of the empty spaces as you will allow.”
Her eyes widened at his second reference to the dismal state of her dance card. He was only trying to help. Instead, he was making a hash of it!
Looking distraught, Lady Adelia darted around the table and past him, presumably toward the ladies’ retiring room.
Blazes!Owen expected her brother to call him out immediately. Perhaps he should set up a permanent encampment in the garden for boxing matches for the rest of the evening.
Lord Smythe shook his head, more with pity than anger. “You, my lord, are an ass. It is no wonder, at your age, you remain single and in want of a wife, despite your title and fortune.”
Owen blinked. He’d never had a difficult time with the fairer sex, but he had never before encountered a woman such as Lady Adelia, one who didn’t fawn all over him. Trying hard to make a good impression was a new experience.
“I apologize again for causing any consternation or distress,” Owen said. “When you see your sister again, please give her my highest regards.”
Smythe stared at him, his face blank. He’d mastered an effective stony-faced expression for someone his age. In fact, Owen quite liked the man. Then a thought occurred to him. Since he had already made himself a nuisance, he had nothing to lose by asking to see his handkerchief.
Smythe, however, took that instant to nod and walk away in the direction Lady Adelia had taken. Owen decided to leave them in peace. At least for the time being. He fully intended to claim his dance later in the night, recalling without doubt, it was the ninth dance. Meanwhile, he would search out Whitely and see if he’d found any clues.
*
Adelia was equalparts angry and mortified as she touched up her hair in the ladies’ retiring room, patting water upon any wayward strands daring to stick up. She hadn’t wanted to dance with anyone, and definitely not with him! Why had Lord Burnley approached her and shattered her peaceful existence if he’d only intended to humiliate her? She’d stood on the edge of the dance floor for the first dance, awaiting him, sticking out like a sore thumb, until every other female had been claimed and the dance had begun.An absolute nightmare!
She’d been forced to walk away, keeping her head up as though unbothered, eyes averted as usual so as not to invite conversation. As she’d made her way back to her brother’s table, disappointment had warred with mortification. It had been the first time in a long time that she’d been asked for the first dance. A small part of her had actually looked forward to being in the viscount’s arms.
Foolishly, she’d even wondered if her partner had come to some misfortune. Soon after, she’d learned Lord Burnley had been out in the garden engaging in pugilistic violence! And he’d had the nerve to show up and insult her again.
She looked at her reflection and sent a silent prayer that soon Thomas would allow her to stay home.
An hour later, she was back in her favorite spot—a long drape at her back, giving her a backdrop against which she could hide. For it seemed she was unseen if she stood unmoving against it, the drape effectively drawing people’s eyes away from her.
The ball had not been entirely a waste of her time. She’d heard a most interesting conversation of adultery by the very perpetrators themselves and, minutes later, been the sole audience for a breakup. A young lady told a young man his yearly income would not be enough to secure her hand. Adelia considered the man fortunate to find out before the spendthrift female sent him into ruinaftermarriage.
Suddenly, Lord Burnley was in front of her again. He had the grace—and good sense—to look humble, chagrined, and apologetic. In fact, his entire handsome face had taken on the aspect of a naughty puppy.
She sighed at her own foolish imaginings. He was a man like any other who was attempting to get what he wanted. And for some reason, what he wanted was to dance with her!
“Our dance is in a very few minutes,” he reminded her.
She couldn’t help rolling her eyes.
“Why?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow and reached for her dance card. She flinched but let him lift it from her wrist.
