Except with her. Again, why her?
She took the opportunity to look into his vivid blue eyes, like cobalt marble, polished to a glistening sheen.
“Yes, my lady?
She shrugged.
“Tell me,” Lord Burnley demanded, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her expertly around the parquet floor.
“I cannot imagine why you are here,” she said carefully, meticulously getting each word out.
He drew back. But instead of looking confused, he nodded.
“Indeed,” the viscount agreed but told her no more.
“Why?” she persisted.
This time, he sighed. “Another place and time, perhaps,” he said, and Adelia took that to mean he wished to confide in her but not there.
They finished the dance in silence, although not grimly. Her happiness at the success of the evening so far, kept her feet floating across the floor. And despite his earlier subdued demeanor, he offered her a satisfied nod when he escorted her back to her table.
In another half hour or so, he would claim her for their last dance, and after that, her best ball, perhaps her best night ever, would be over.
“One to go,” she murmured, not thinking how that might sound.
“Is this all so painful, Lady Adelia?” he asked without losing his good nature.
She shook her head, feeling her cheeks warm. He would think her ungrateful and spoiled if she didn’t appreciate the good fortune of a gathering such as tonight’s. The music, food, and especially her dance partner had all been sublime.
“Not at all,” she assured him.
At the table, there was no sign of Thomas.
“I cannot leave you here alone.”
“I am not a child,” she said.
“That’s the problem,” he quipped solemnly. “You are a beautiful young woman, ripe prey for some despicable scoundrel.”
She shook her head. Glancing around, there were people close by, chatting, laughing, drinking, and dancing. No one looked the least bit threatening.
“Go,” she urged, for he didn’t have too long until their last dance.
He scowled and remained standing by her chair, searching the room, probably for Thomas.
If Lord Burnley had wanted to sit with her and be sociable, she would almost have welcomed it. She would have tilted her good ear toward him and tried to converse without making a nuisance of herself. Yet, seeing how he wanted to escape but felt compelled to stay with her, she grew irritated.
“Go,” Adelia repeated more forcefully. “It’s my fourth Season!”
Having to remind him how long in the tooth she was and how firmly she was set upon the shelf ruined her mood. She was an old maid, and no one was about to swoop over and compromise her. She had made sure of that with her behavior over the past years.
He blinked at her. “Yes, I suppose it is. A mystery I might have to put my mind to solving someday soon.”
What on earth did he mean by that?She almost believed he was interested in her.
After another moment’s hesitation, the viscount said, “Very well. You are not a debutante, after all, although I do feel terribly unchivalrous leaving you unattended. It’s simply that I have—”
“A task,” she supplied. It was the first time she’d interrupted anyone in years. It felt…rather good.
