The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Eighteen

"That was very rude," hissed Eliza, giving him that look that reminded him so much of mother.

Perhaps he had been a little harsh in his refusal of the dance, but that was natural instinct.

He rubbed his forehead. "I'm aware," he drawled. "That hadn't been my intention."

"Intention or not, that's what it was."

"If you would like to further scold me, do so in private. I've got enough embarrassment as it was being scolded by mother."

"Maybe you deserved that too." Possibly, but he wasn't going to admit it. "Ask Miss Price to dance, Richard. It is what a gentleman would do."

He raised a brow at her but she was looking straight ahead, arms crossed. He sighed. "You know how to guilt a man."

"She has been watching the dances with a smile and no one would dare to ask her hand in a dance. Did you not tell me you were to be her confidant? This is what confidants do."

The word confidant was starting to become bothersome, like a throbbing bite of an insect that wouldn't dissipate even with a few hard scratches.

"And you would like me to ask for her hand in a pity dance? Surely that would be more of a bruise to her ego than my denying of it in the first place."

"Richard. Look at her."

He followed her trail of sight. Miss Price swayed slightly from side to side, hands interlaced at her front as she studied the dancers in the middle as if a woman starved of such activities; she looked like a little child, seeing the world for the first time and enjoying what was given.

A bumbling, rude idiot is what you are, he thought, a pain in the back of his throat that swallowing did not appease. Eliza was right.

"I suppose one dance couldn't hurt," he mumbled. Eliza squeezed his arm and he took that encouragement, manifesting it into his steps as he inched closer to the woman. He cleared his throat beside her, getting her attention successfully. "If you were so inclined, might you want to dance?"

Miss Price didn't respond for a while. Her expression did not rise nor fall and he wasn't exactly sure how she felt about his presence there. Or the question he had asked, for that matter.

Then she spoke. "I can't, my lord," she said softly. "I was not lying when I said I could not dance. You say you have two left feet, too."

"Oh, that was merely a saying. An excuse, really." He didn't want to say for what to risk further wounding her. So he changed the topic. "Regardless of your skillset, or the nonexistent levels of it, what better time than now to learn?"

"I would only make a fool of you."

He leaned in to whisper, "A mighty excuse to escape from this suffocating party, then."

Crinkles around her eyes deepened as she flashed a smile. Her gaze then darted over his shoulder. "Lady Delafort would not mind?"

"It is just a dance. This one in particular requires two to four couples, so perhaps she may join us with her own partner."

"You do not want to dance with your fiancee?"

He made a show of an exaggerated eye roll. "Good God, we've danced together so much that I've gotten quite bored of staring at the same face around the dance floor."

"I don't think that's a wise thing to say when she's so close to you."

"Then I suppose we shall keep it a secret."

"Another one?" she asked. "With all these secrets, one day I'm bound to expose them."

"So long as the ones you expose aren't at my expense." Richard then extended his hand. "Shall we, Miss Price?"