Page 15 of A Single Obsession

She motioned toward Miss Whitlow, who had appeared at her mother’s side. “You remember Mr Whitlow’s sister Harriet, don’t you?”

Beau saw the trap too late. He could not avoid asking her to dance without being rude. “Miss Whitlow, would you be so good as to honour me with the next?” he said, trying to keep the reluctance out of his voice.

As he had expected, she was quick to accept, peeking up at him from under her eyelashes in a way that might have been provocative if he had liked her. The look gave him a queasy feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He offered her his arm, and they walked across the room to join the dance that was forming.

He supposed he should make some conversation with his partner. “Are you enjoying the ball, Miss Whitlow?”

She puckered her lips. “Now I am.”

Beau was unprepared for such a direct attack and floundered as he sought a response that was neither rude nor encouraging.

“We had quite given up on you, Beaumont. It is too bad of you to hold us in suspense by arriving so late.”

Beau felt sure she would have rapped his knuckles with her fan if they weren’t in the middle of a dance. He supposed he should say something in reply.

“I was delayed.” It was a lame excuse, even in his own ears, but at least it was true, in a manner of speaking. He would not admit he was late because he’d been having such a pleasant evening with Templecombe they’d forgotten the time.

“We missed you.”

“I…um…it’s warm in here tonight,” he said, ignoring her words.

“And you would prefer to be outside, riding in the park, instead of dancing with me.”

How was he supposed to answer that? Of course, he would rather be out riding, but if he admitted as much, it would hardly be complimentary to his partner.

“It is always a pleasure—”

“Forgive me,” she said. “What an impossible position I put you in. I know you’d choose riding over dancing, even if your partner was the most charming lady in the world.”

Beau did not care to have Miss Whitlow claim she knew him well enough to speak for him, however accurate her assessment. He gave a weak smile, hoping that was a sufficient compliment to satisfy her. The woman didn’t need any encouragement.

“Your mother told us you have taken lodgings this year. It must be strange not to live at Harting House, but I suppose you will buy a place of your own once you are married. Whitlow and your sister are staying with us this season, but they’re looking to acquire a suitable townhouse. Somewhere large enough for a family.”

The thought of Whitlow setting up his nursery sent shivers down Beau’s spine. Doing his best to ignore Miss Whitlow’s comments, he talked about the weather. Then the dance. And then the journey to London until the set was over.

It was at that point he realised with an inner groan that he had inadvertently asked Miss Whitlow for the supper dance, and rather than returning her to her mother, he would be obliged to spend the next half an hour waiting on her at the supper table and trying to find something to say to her which stayed well away from such topics as marriage and family.

A sudden burst of laughter shattered the well-bred chatter across the room. All eyes were drawn to Anthony, who laughed at something Eliza had said. After a moment, everyone went back to their conversations, and the gentle hubbub resumed.

But Beau was only giving half an ear to what Miss Whitlow was saying. He still had Anthony and Eliza in his view, over his companion’s shoulder.

To judge by the look on her face, Eliza was enjoying Anthony’s company. He hoped Georgiana had warned her sister that her husband’s brother was an arrant flirt. It would be too bad of Ant to break her heart.

From all he had seen of Eliza, she was a shy little thing and probably wouldn’t know how to deal with unwanted attentions. Though if her smiles were anything to go by, Ant’s attentions were not unwanted.

At last the interminable supper was over and Beau could return Miss Whitlow to her mother, to await her next partner when the dancing resumed.

After relinquishing her with considerable relief, he walked away, planning to search for Anthony, but he was halted in his tracks by a woman standing in his way.

His mother.

He stifled a sigh. What did she want now?

Chapter 7

Lady Harting flared her nostrils, the ends of her lips curled down in disapproval as she addressed her son.

“It was a pity you could not arrange your schedule to arrive on time tonight, Beaumont. Have you paid your respects to Lady Castleford yet? She is looking very well. Most fortunate in her choice of husband.”