Dancing with the Viscount (Howertys Prequel Novella)

Chapter 3: Manly Gossip

Preston took another sip of his punch as he watched Amelia swirling around on the dancefloor. She looked beautiful as she laughed at something her dance partner said, the twinkle in her eyes visible even from a distance. As the daughter of a duke, she was immensely popular, and it was beyond his comprehension how she would feel the need to pursue one particular gentleman. Most bachelors of the ton would be happy to cut off their right hand to marry her. And yet she had chosen the one who had proclaimed time and time again he had no interest in finding himself a wife.

She never did shy away from a challenge. He smiled wryly to himself. Finishing off his drink, he put the empty glass to the side. He should probably stop drinking. That wasn't his first—nor second—of the evening, and whoever had mixed the punch had not skimped on the liquor. By now, he was feeling quite merry indeed.

The hour was growing late—or early, depending on how you viewed it—and he had danced twice with Amelia as requested. Her aunt had spent the evening half-asleep or talking to her friends, paying little heed to her charge, leaving him feeling somewhat responsible for his friend's little sister and unable to keep his gaze from returning to her to ensure she was safe. At least that's what he liked to think was the reason, but even he knew better.

"Leighton!"

He looked away from the dancefloor to see James Grafton, Viscount Gowthorpe and the Marquess of Pensington coming towards him. As they came up to him, the viscount smiled. "Leighton, will you be at White's tomorrow? We need a fourth for cards."

"Yes, I will be there in the evening."

"Good. Good." The blond viscount shifted from one foot to the other as he glanced out at the dancefloor, giving Preston the sense that he was itching to ask something else.

"Was there anything else?" he asked casually.

Gowthorpe's blue eyes turned back to him. "I saw you danced twice with Lady Amelia Warble," he said. "Are you courting her?"

Preston raised an eyebrow. "Two dances is perfectly acceptable."

"True," the dark-haired marquess joined in with a slight smile. "But you have never danced twice with any lady before."

"She's Lord Adrian's sister." Preston shrugged, then remembered his promise to Amelia. He was meant to make Pensington believe she might be off the market soon. "But yes, there might be some interest from my side."

Saying it out loud felt odd. It was meant to be a lie, but it was anything but. If anything, it was an understatement.

Gowthorpe grinned. "I thought as much."

"I doubt she'll have me," Preston heard himself say, and instantly wanted to kick himself. "She's the daughter of a duke and I a mere viscount."

"You never know," Pensington said. "They say love is blind."

"What do you know about love?" Gowthorpe scoffed.

"Enough to know I want nothing to do with it." Pensington turned to the room to watch as the dance had ended and another started. "I cannot believe it is not long until I have to attend all the events with my sister. As it is, I try to get away with attending one every fortnight, but that will not stand once Jessica has her coming-out ball."

Preston couldn't imagine the stress of having to escort a sister around the London Season. Ensuring that she made an advantageous match and did not find herself in a situation that ruined her reputation and possibly that of her family. He had found it stressful enough half-watching Amelia for one evening. And the marquess had three sisters.

"You might find love escorting Jessica to all those balls." Gowthorpe chuckled. "I am certain that is what your aunt is hoping for."

"Most likely," the marquess admitted with a wry smile. "I must disappoint Aunt Jane as I have no such plans."