“Tell me what you want and then you must go,” she insisted.
“It’s nearly time for the costume ball. Are the three of us going together?”
Her stomach twinged and regret washed over her. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think that would be prudent, do you?”
His handsome face looked genuinely surprised. “Why not? We have gone together to everything else that was important.”
Was he going to make her spell it out?
“That was before. In case you truly don’t understand how these things work, you must send a note to your new lady love and ask to escort her to the fancy-dress ball. I would offer to help you with the missive, but since I know nothing about inviting a young woman, it would be best if you asked the duke. Or even my father. Or perhaps the concierge at your hotel,” she finished tartly.
In fact, she’d never received an invitation, let alone written one. Lord Melton had come twice to her house, each time with unremarkable conversation, staying ten minutes and then leaving, as if doing some sort of duty. She’d hoped he would never stop by again.
“I see.” He paused, crossing his arms. “Nonetheless, I thought we would still go together. Once at the ball, I can simply approach Lady Emily and ask her if I could pencil my name in her dance card three times. That would signal my desire to court her, wouldn’t it?”
“Again, you probably should ask the duke.” Beatrice felt the tears welling up again and, with her hands hidden in her skirts, she dug her fingernails into her palms until she had control of herself. “I don’t think your arriving with me is a good idea. Not any longer. It might damage your suit with her, and it will hinder my own matchmaking quest.”
He uncrossed his arms, his expression solemn. “Really? How so? What man has caught your eye? I thought you and Charlotte indicated the Season had been a loss in that respect so far.”
“I won’t speak for my sister, and actually, I won’t even speak for me. You Americans discuss everything and anything, no matter how personal, but I am not obligated to tell you which gentleman has captured my attention, nor should you ask, since you are not family.” She released her palms. “In other words, it’s none of your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t,” he said a little gruffly, surprising her. Then he coughed and gave a shrug as if he wasn’t really pressing her for information. “We started this with an agreement to work together to help each other find spouses.”
“We’ve accomplished that. You have your titled lady.”
“And you have whom? Tell me, for the sake of our pact. Is it that viscount?”
She merely stared at him. “Our pact! You are simply being a curious nose-poker, like an old biddy with a pot of truly hot gossip-water.”How could she tell him any man’s name when they were all alike to her?She didn’t prefer one over the other.
“A nose-poker! I thought I was being a friend. Perhaps I’ve run into your beau outside of the civilized confines of the ballroom and know him to be a loud-mouthed churl, hiding his flaws from unsuspecting females.”
“You make him sound deliciously devious. Even exciting.”
“Who?” he pressed again.
“Whoever this ‘him’ is, of course!”
“So you won’t tell me?”
Ridiculously, the conversation had gone from a discussion of what his actual lady-love might want to her fictional beau’s nefarious hidden nature.
“You must leave now. Luckily, I turned the stove off when the bell rang, but I must get back to it if I hope to be home by dinnertime.”
“I will escort you home. It could be dangerous for a woman alone.”
Again she gave him her long stare. “I’ve been doing it for a few years, and I most likely will do it for many more.”
“Will your beau allow it? Will you continue to make toffee?”
His repeated questions irritated her no end. All she could think of was the Viscount Melton and the other one.What was his name?Donnelley, Longley, Dongley?Blast!They all spoke alike and dressed alike, and they all made her feel the same — frankly, nothing.
“I suppose his lordship might ask me to stop making treacle toffee, but I shall point out how my sister is a duchess, and if she can do it, then so can I.”
“His lordship,” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you going to let me see you out and lock up so I can get back to work? Or are you going to delay my dinner further after my long day?”
“I was busy, too. I had to take care of Miss Sylvia.”
