David made his way toward the French doors on the far opposite side of the ballroom than the ones Annabelle had left through moments earlier. The last thing he needed was more gossip about himself and Annabelle. When he’d cut in on her dance with Murdock, David had merely been trying to save her feet from an incompetent dancer. That was all. But apparently, these people turned every small gesture into gossip. Annabelle had taken him to task for it. Fine. Next time he’d allow her slippers to be stomped upon. She’d chosen to dance with Murdock, hadn’t she? Even though sheclaimedshe had no interest in being courted. Why did she say one thing and do another? And even more maddening, why the bloody hell did Davidcare? He tossed back the final bit of his champagne before taking a fresh glass from a footman’s tray and leaving the ballroom.
The chilly spring night air hit David in the face the moment he stepped outside. He breathed it in gladly. It had become stuffy in the ballroom with all the candles, the dancing, and the bodies pressed together along the sidelines.
He sauntered across the verandah, and leaning his forearms atop the stone balustrade, stared down into the darkened landscape. The evening had gone well enough so far. The three ladies Annabelle had introduced him to certainly seemed promising. But if they were so promising, why weren’t any of them the one woman he was still thinking about? A vision of Annabelle in her glowing golden gown and matching gloves danced through his mind. Her laugh. The tone of her voice. The elegant arch of her neck. The way her mouth quirked up in that endearing little smile. He couldn’t stop thinking about any of it. Damned inconvenient. The woman had already made it quite clear that she was singularly uninterested in being courted. And if she were,he’dno doubt be the last man in London she’d be interested in, given his inexperience and lack of decorum. She’d just taken him to task for cutting in, for Christ’s sake. So why was he standing here wanting to court her? Was it merely that he’d always wanted what he couldn’t have? Or was Annabelle special? Unlike any of the other ladies in the stuffy ballroom. A breath of air as fresh as the ones he was inhaling at the moment.
A slight noise in the bushes below caught his attention and he leaned farther to see Annabelle herself walking in the darkened gardens. She was making her way to the nearby staircase that led up to him.
David briefly considered returning to the house before she made it up the stairs. That would be the right thing to do. The intelligent thing to do. But apparently, he was neither right nor intelligent this evening, because when Annabelle stepped onto the verandah, David was standing with his back against the balustrade, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.
“Lost?” he asked, smiling at her sweetly.
Annabelle lifted her chin. “There were too many people on the other side of the house. I was…looking for more privacy.”
“Sorry to keep you from it with my presence,” he drawled.
“We shouldn’t be seen together,” Annabelle replied.
David glanced around. “No one else is here. How would we be seen?” He gave her another patient smile.
Annabelle lifted her skirts and marched past him. “I’m afraid you don’t know how thetonworks. If someone were to happen outside and see us together, there would be gossip.”
David stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “There’s already gossip,” he replied. “And besides, I was under the impression that we’d have to be doing something compromising to be the subject of real gossip.”
* * *
Annabelle inhaled sharplythe moment his hand touched her. She was staring ahead into the crowded, brightly lit ballroom, struggling against the desire to lean back against him.
“That’s true,” she finally allowed. “I suppose as long as we remain a decent length apart and are merely talking to one another…” She moved several paces away from him along the balustrade and turned to face him.
“Very well. You stay there and I’ll stay here.” He motioned to the distance between them. “Did you enjoy your dance with Lord Murdock?”
“You meanbeforeyou cut in?” She gave him a mock-sweet smile.
David’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip. “Yes.”
Why did he have to look so charming and boyish when he bit his lip that way? She struggled to recall why she was annoyed with him. Oh, yes. “Why did you cut in? And don’t tell me that nonsense about Lord Murdock not being a good enough waltz partner.”
David leaned his right elbow on the balustrade and shrugged his left shoulder. “Why did you dance with him? I thought you said you weren’t interested in being courted.”
Annabelle nearly stamped her foot. “One dance is a far cry from being courted. Besides I didn’t thinkyouwould have even noticed, what with all the dance partnersyouhad this evening.”
David immediately stood up straight and narrowed his eyes on her. “Oh, my God. You’re jealous?”
“What? No!” Annabelle wheeled around to face out into the darkness, bracing her forearms on the balustrade. She refused to even entertain that ridiculous notion. Jealous? Her? Madness.
He stalked toward her and stopped beside her, staring at her profile. “Yes. You are. You’re jealous because I didn’t ask you to dance.”
Still facing the darkened gardens, Annabelle lifted her nose in the air. “I wouldn’t dance with you if you asked.”
“Why not?” he asked softly.
She lifted her gaze to the starry night sky while David moved even closer.
“Tell me something.” His voice was husky, deep. It sent a tremor through Annabelle’s center. “Aside from dancing and fetching drinks, would a gentleman ever have an opportunity to, say,kissa lady?”
Annabelle kept her gaze steadfastly forward, but she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “Kiss? Absolutely not.” Her voice sounded stern, but it shook slightly. She was nervous. He was making her nervous.
David leaned a forearm on the balustrade next to her. He reached out with his other hand and traced the skin just above where her glove met her bare arm. “Never?”
