Anthony forced a smile while Callum and Brody both gave a short bow.
“You’re looking particularly lovely this evening, Miss Starling,” Callum told her smoothly.
“Why thank you.” She smiled at them each in turn before letting her gaze meet Anthony’s. “May I offer you my dance card, Your Grace?”
A prickly sort of discomfort erupted on Anthony’s skin as she held the dreaded card toward him. Placed in a horrid position where turning her down would not only breach his agreement but also appear unspeakably rude, Anthony took the card with great reluctance and considered the choices. He knit his brow and clenched his jaw as he grabbed the pencil that had been attached with a creamy silk ribbon. Thankfully, she’d come to him first, which left all options open.
He placed his name next to a quadrille, which would hopefully lead to the least amount of contact between them. Good God, what had he been thinking when he’d asked Viscount Ebberly if she might be amenable to a possible match?
That particular conversation had clearly taken on a life of its own if a marriage contract had since been prepared. And contrary to his request, the viscount had clearly let details of Anthony’s visit slip if Miss Starling now saw herself on the way to the altar with him.
It was awful and monstrously stupid on Ebberly’s part to entertain such a notion without being certain it was something Anthony actually wished to go through with.
He handed the card back to Miss Starling and watched as the edge of her mouth dipped.
“Oh,” she muttered. “I thought you’d select the waltz.”
“On the contrary, I much prefer the quadrille.” Even though he wanted to run toward the nearest exit, he kept himself perfectly still while offering her the blankest stare he could muster. “But if you’d rather not dance it with me then—”
“No, no,” she quipped, her tone a touch too bright. “The quadrille will be lovely, I’m sure. I look forward to partnering with you, Your Grace.”
Anthony was about to tell her something of a similar nature when a movement near the entrance caught his attention. His gaze shifted and then he saw her, the most dazzling woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
For a second, it was difficult for him to comprehend that it was actually she. It took his brain a moment to realize what his eyes had already acknowledged.
He sucked in a breath as his heart leapt with joy.
She’d come. Miss Quinn was here. And she looked incredible.
Dressed in a cream-colored gown sewn from layers of lace and adorned with beadwork, she sparkled like a newly polished diamond in the candlelight spilling from wall sconces and chandeliers. Blindingly beautiful came to mind, Anthony decided as he started forward, his attention fixed solely upon the lady who’d captured his every attention.
“Westcliffe,” Miss Starling squeaked as he passed her. “Where are you going? You can’t just—”
Hopeful that his friends would have the good sense to distract her, he ignored her completely while cutting a path directly toward Miss Quinn. Much to his relief, he reached her before any other young men had a chance to pull themselves together and approach the new arrival. Her uncle stood by her side, his expression curiously nostalgic as he glanced toward the dance floor.
Odd that, Anthony thought for the briefest moment, that a man who worked in a bookshop would enter a ballroom as though coming home from a long trip abroad. He looked as polished as his niece in his evening black.
When Anthony had facilitated the invite, his greatest concern had been their ability to acquire the right clothes for such an event. Despite his limited funds, he’d even considered offering to cover the expense of a visit to a tailor and a modiste, only to change his mind.
Such a gesture might have been viewed as charitable and would without doubt have caused Miss Quinn to turn down both him and the chance to participate this evening.
Halting in front of her and her uncle, he swept an elegant bow before straightening to his full height. “Miss Quinn. Mr. Quinn. I’m so glad you’ve come. And if I may, Miss Quinn, I’d like to compliment you on your appearance. You are without doubt the loveliest lady in attendance.”
Her blush was immediate. “Thank you, Mr. Gibbs. It is kind of you to say so.”
“I merely state the truth,” he murmured, unable to take his gaze off her. For although her hair had been simply styled, the unpretentiousness of it only added to her overall charm. He loved that about her. He…did not dare finish that thought, so he cleared his throat instead and addressed her uncle. “Will you do me the honor of letting me ask your niece for a dance?”
“Certainly,” Mr. Quinn said with a grin, “though whether or not she accepts shall be up to her.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Anthony gave his attention back to Miss Quinn. “Did you pick up a dance card when you arrived?”
She nodded. “Yes, it’s…um…right here, although I should warn you that I’ve never taken lessons. I’ve only ever attempted a country dance when I was little and my mama tried to show me how it was done.”
“Not to worry.” He took the card, considered all of the options, and jotted his name down twice before handing it back.
“A country dance and the waltz?” She stared at him as though he’d just told her she’d have to perform a juggling act in five minutes.
“They are the simplest ones of all, especially since you have some experience with country dances. I will help guide you, so please don’t worry. And if you misstep I promise to do the same so you’re not the only one drawing attention. All right?”
