“Oh, indeed. Thus, since we are having such a fine evening, may I claim you for two more?”
She glanced at her card. There were seven dances left, and for the first time ever, she wasn’t sorry to see the remainder of the ball stretch out ahead of her.
“Yes,” Adelia agreed and held her wrist out to him.
He chose another waltz and a polka. “I shall claim you on time. I promise, I will not let you down,” Lord Burnley vowed. “I also cannot leave you unattended.” He looked particularly discomfited at the notion of doing so.
“Absurd,” she said. No man had ever worried about that, not with her. While she knew it was expected for a woman to go from one dance partner to the next before being returned to a chaperone or to her male escort for the evening, she and Thomas had done things differently. Mostly because her brother knew she would never be involved in anything remotely improper.
“Nevertheless, I have a task to do,” Lord Burnley said, “and thus, I must leave you until our next dance. May I take you to your brother’s table?”
“Of course.”
As it turned out, Thomas showed up as they reached it.
Lord Burnley bowed over her hand, nodded to her brother, who stared with surprise, and then took his leave.
“That was unexpected,” Thomas said, “as was Burnley being your dinner companion. I take it you accepted his watery apology.”
“I did.” She gave her brother a smile. “The viscount was truly sorry for his behavior earlier. Besides, I enjoyed his company tonight. We have another dance coming up.”
She thought it best not to mention they actually had two in case her brother read too much into it.
He cocked his head. “You know Burnley isn’t a schoolboy or an angel.”
Apparently, hewasalready reading into it.
“I know.” Everyone knew Lord Burnley had courted many women, and most of those courtships had begun and ended in the ballroom. And in rather short order, too. She’d been witness to many of them over the past few years.
Pretty, sparkly young women—all of them engaging, talkative, commanding the attention of the men around them as a nectar-filled flower drew the bees.
“Why is he suddenly paying court to you?”
She felt a wave of misery crash over her. She knew what her brother meant. Hadn’t she asked Lord Burnley the very same question earlier? He’d said there was no one else he wished to dance with and that she was intriguing.
How foolish of her to listen to him!On the other hand, he hadn’t behaved in an untoward fashion. It wasn’t as if he’d tried to get her outside into the gardens.
Why hadn’t he?She’d seen him lead any number of women into secluded situations over the years. But not her. She scanned the room. He’d said he had a task. He wasn’t dancing with anyone else. He was clearly making the rounds, talking to his peers.
“I don’t know,” she confessed to Thomas. “I am a good dancer, and I’m not unpleasant to look at. Am I?”
“Good God, of course not! You’re as pretty as any woman here. Even I can see that, and I’m your brother. I meant Burnley must know I am keeping an eye on him, and he also is undoubtedly aware of your unblemished reputation. So, if he’s up to his usual tricks, he will be sadly thwarted. Unless he considers you a challenge he cannot resist. In which case, I shall end up calling him out, pistols at dawn, and all that.”
She wasn’t entirely certain her brother was joking.
“And if he doesn’t show up on time for your next dance,” he left an unspoken threat hanging.
Luckily, Lord Burnley did, and in plenty of time for Thomas to get to his dance partner, too.
“Were you worried?” Lord Burnley asked.
“No,” Adelia said. “My brother was.”
He laughed, and it was a smooth and sensual sound that resonated deep within her. However, he stopped far too quickly, his grin replaced with a somber face, an expression of regret, maybe shame.
She thought she knew why. He considered laughing to be inappropriate after his sister’s death. Many would condemn him for being out and for dancing, and assuredly for laughing.
All at once, Adelia realized she hadn’t seen him on the dance floor since reading about Lady Sophia’s passing in the papers. She’d encountered him now twice at balls, vastly altered from the Lord Burnley of a month ago. He had not appeared relaxed or especially cordial, neither escorting young ladies inside nor out into the gardens. And he most definitely hadn’t been dancing.
