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Jo whirled around and left the ballroom.

* * *

Richard could see the pain in Jo’s eyes even across the length of the ballroom.

Betrayal, anger, and agony all played out on that expressive face of hers.

Richard turned to run after her, but a strong hand grabbed him by the arm and held him in place. “Don’t,” Adam growled. “You’ll invite scandal.”

“I don’t care.” Richard shook off his brother’s arm and smoothed his coat sleeve.

“You might not care, but at least care for the lady whom you offered the protection of your name.”

Richard’s gaze traveled to the bespectacled, shy lady who stood a few paces away.

What have I done?

There was nothing he could do at the moment, however. Adam was right. If he rushed off after Jo, the whispers would just hurt Miss Fowley.

He didn’t want to do that. She didn’t deserve it. But neither did he want to leave Jo angry with him.

“It is best if you let her go, brother,” Adam said.

Richard nodded mutely.

The bars of a waltz sounded, and Richard cursed. He was supposed to invite his bride for their first dance. “I can’t marry her,” he whispered instead.

“What?” Adam roared, before stepping closer to Richard so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I can’t marry her,” Richard repeated.

“You couldn’t have decided that before you announced to the world that you were betrothed?” Adam gritted between his teeth.

“Adam….” Richard looked at Adam, his gaze imploring. “I feel like I am suffocating. I can’t do it now,” he whispered.

“You have to. This is your first dance as a couple.”

Richard shook his head. “I can’t.” He stepped away.

Adam cursed under his breath then looked from Miss Fowley to Richard and finally stepped toward the lady. “Would you give your future brother-in-law the honor of this dance?”

She smiled timidly and placed her hand on Adam’s arm. Adam threw a dark gaze toward Richard.

Richard nodded sharply, his breathing evening out.

Thank God for Adam.

He stepped away, sidling closer to the doors as people surrounded him, congratulating him on his nuptials. Suddenly he wished he had danced with his fiancée instead. The light seemed to have dimmed, and the air suffocated him.

He didn’t know if this was because he was anxious and out of sorts. Or perhaps without Jo, everything seemed dull, as if with her exit, she’d taken all that was lovely in the room with her. And with her beautiful, silent ire, she’d cut out his heart.

What have I done?

He couldn’t marry Jo. An actress would bring scandal to the title his father had built from the ground up. His sisters and their children would be avoided and claimed to be scandalous. His own children would be mocked for having an actress as a mother. And if they had daughters, they would be shunned and taunted. An actress for a mother doomed her children to be perceived as harlots.

What am I thinking?

He couldn’t marry Jo, and he needed to toss the idea out of his mind. Even if the aforementioned things were not true, he was betrothed. The marriage contract had been signed, the announcement had been made, and now only the bride herself had the option of crying off.