Page 32

Just as she thought this night might not be as bad as she had predicted, her second dance partner ruined her illusions.

He kept looking at her bosom throughout the dance and almost salivated as he did so! Beatrice had had the urge to take a long and steamy bath after that dance, but unfortunately, she needed to keep going.

The third man was such a poor dancer he kept treading on Beatrice’s already sore toes. Adam did not relent, and the next three partners weren’t much better, either boring Beatrice to death, stepping on her feet, or causing her alarm.

And just as she was about to cry, the call for supper came. She had thought it would be a reprieve, but she was seated beside one of the vainest and therefore most dull people she had ever had a chance of conversing with, or rather listening to, because he would not allow her to speak. At least, she had a chance to rest her vocal cords and eat in peace.

By the time supper was over, she was ready to call it quits and go home.

But she wasn’t about to let Adam win this easily. She wasn’t going to continue enduring his torture either. So, she slipped into the retiring room and spent an inordinately long time just sitting in the corner, pretending there was something wrong with her gown, a slipper, or a stocking whenever a worried maiden would come over and ask her if she needed any help.

She needed to come out at some point, however, so she collected her wits, took a deep breath, and ventured out.

Immediately as she stepped out of the room, Adam appeared as if out of thin air right in front of her. She started and cursed under her breath. Was he following her? Was he so intent on making her miserable tonight that he’d stalked her to the retiring room and waited for her to come out? She almost expected there to be another suitor for her to dance with right behind him.

Instead, he took her by the shoulders and led her slightly out of the way. “Is something wrong?”

Beatrice looked up and reeled at the emotion on Adam’s face. There was real worry there. His brows were furrowed, his eyes studying her face intently.

“No, why would anything be wrong?”

He let go of her arms. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You disappeared from the ballroom. You missed two dances.”

“Oh, I am sorry, did I ruin your plan to pair me with the worst dancing companions London has ever seen?”

Adam’s face changed from worry to anger and finally to a prideful joy, which he dutifully tried to stifle, but it was too late. She had seen it. Not that it would have changed anything if she hadn’t. She knew what he was about. At least, he wasn’t denying it.

“I thought you wanted to dance every dance of the ball. The fact that you willfully missed two dances doesn’t mean that I failed the wager.”

Of course, he was worried about himself, not her, at all. “Do not worry. I shall not count those dances. Besides, we have two whole sets to go through. And I am certain that you have meticulously chosen just the right partners for me.”

“You can always refuse to go through with it,” he said with a raised brow. “As it is, I should be counting those missed dances as a forfeit.”

Beatrice gasped. “You certainly should not. I am allowed to take a break. And besides, these are my items we are crossing off, I can adjust them as I please. Not to mention it makes your job easier.”

“I don’t believe we agreed upon such an arrangement. You scribbled down the items, and I am the one who chooses how we go about scratching them off the list.”

“Fine,” she breathed. “Since we have revised the rules, we should start from scratch then!” Please, say no! I can’t take another ball like this!

“God, no.” Adam almost shuddered. “We shall continue. But no more hiding in the retiring room or anywhere. You have seven more dances to finish.”

Beatrice wanted to groan out loud.

“There you are!” The Marchioness of Vane, Adam’s sister, appeared at their side. “You are just the person I was looking for.” She shouldered past Adam and took Beatrice by her hand.

“You were?” Beatrice was so surprised she couldn’t come up with a more appropriate response.

“Yes. Actually, it was my husband who was looking for you. He would like to have the next dance if you’re free.”

“She is not free,” Adam protested.

“No?” Isabel picked up Beatrice’s dance card and flipped it this way and that. “I see no names on the card. We need to rectify this situation immediately. I know a few eligible young gentlemen who would be delighted to fill your card.”

Delighted. Yes, that was exactly how Beatrice felt.

“Isabel,” Adam warned with a slight growl in his voice.

She blinked at him innocently. “Oh, did you want to write your name down? She can save you a waltz. Can’t you, Beatrice?” Then she picked up a pencil and scribbled Adam’s name for the last waltz of the ball. “There. Now we must go.” She looped her arm through Beatrice’s and led her away.