His golden eyes sought hers again, this time with an almost terrifying degree of openness. “Hawthorne is a friend, and as a friend it would have been wrong of me to let him lead you onto the dance floor.”
“What are you saying?” she whispered.
Stepping closer to her, he dipped his head and spoke close to her ear. “If there’s a slip up and your true identity is revealed, Hawthorne will look like a fool. He will blame me for not warning him off, and with good reason. The same goes for everyone else.”
She swallowed while trying to fight the burn of humiliation sweeping her skin like an angry rash. “That’s the real reason you do not wish to dance with me, isn’t it? You’re afraid I might embarrass you.”
“That’s not true.”
“I think it is. I think that while you’re happy to cook with me, laugh with me, enjoy companionable moments with me, and even attempt to lure me into your bed when we’re alone, out here in public, I’m simply not good enough. Am I?”
“You’re better than most of the people here.”
“If that’s how you truly feel, then dance with me, Simon.”
He stared back at her for a long moment, and then he said, “I’m sorry, but we’ve been over this already. You need to keep a low profile. We both do. So let’s stick to the periphery, shall we?”
She nodded. He was right of course, but that didn’t stop the pain of his rejection from lancing through her. Maybe she was being unreasonable, given the circumstances, but she wished he’d at least show some hint of regret over not being able to sweep her onto the dance floor.
“In that case, it’s probably best if we try to locate the men we came here to find.” Too upset to speak with him any further at the moment, she turned away and started walking.
“Ida, would you please wait for one second?”
She merely slowed her pace, allowing him to catch up. They skirted the edge of the room and reached the opposite side before the first set began.
“Listen.” Simon grabbed her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “There’s something I’ve neglected to tell you because I wanted to find out more before letting you know. And after meeting you that first evening and learning what it was you hoped to accomplish, and with my own history with your father taken into account, I really wanted to help. Only I wasn’t sure you’d let me if I told you what I really wasn’t aware of from the start but figured out later in our discussion and—”
“Simon.”
“Yes?”
“What is it?”
“Look, I know I should have told you before, but—”
Unease was rapidly replacing every other emotion she’d had that evening. “Spit it out, Simon.”
He swallowed. “The truth is that Mr. Elliot Nugent is my—”
Chapter Ten
“Simon. I thought I saw you hurrying by a moment ago.”
Simon’s stomach dropped.
No. Not now. Not yet.
Ida was already looking at the man who’d just joined them with what could only be described as incomprehension. Simon didn’t blame her. She was sure to wonder why Elliot Nugent had chosen to be so informal with him.
Releasing her arm, Simon turned more fully toward his uncle, prepared to say something by way of greeting. But before one single word managed to leave his mouth, his uncle told Ida, “You look remarkably familiar. Have we met before?”
“Uncle,” Simon interjected in a swift attempt to avert disaster. “Allow me to present Miss Jane Smith, a friend of the family.”
Elliot narrowed his gaze on Ida. “A pleasure, although I don’t recall any Smiths in our immediate circle. That said, I cannot deny the feeling of having met you before. Tell me, to whom are you related?”
“To John and Mary Smith,” Ida said with such conviction even Simon almost believed her. “Papa was a clergyman who always considered Fielding to be beyond reproach. He only had good things to say of him and his family, which surely explains his decision to make Fielding my guardian when he passed.”
A frown settled on Elliot’s brow. “That makes no sense. You would have mentioned taking responsibility for a ward when we last met, had you indeed done so.”
