Chapter 12

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"What are you doing, Michael?!" Julia whispered harshly once they'd taken their positions.

"No, what are you doing, Julia?" Michael shot back.

"He is your guest. You should've let me dance with him. You behaved so rudely and—"

"What? I'm supposed to let him have you just because he's our guest?"

"Let him have me? You don't own me, Michael," Julia stared at him.

Michael was silent for a few moments, his eyes searching her face. He looked angry.

"You insulted me before him. You said you'd rather dance with him," he finally accused.

"Insulted? It was a joke. Besides, why do you even care? You've never danced with me before," Julia said, her eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes but his intentions weren't right. I couldn't let you dance with him."

Julia began to laugh then.

"I fail to see what is so amusing," he growled.

"Oh you're so blind, Michael," she giggled.

"What?"

"He doesn't want me, silly. He wants Poppy," Julia grinned.

"That's a ton of rot," he muttered.

"And you practically handed her over to him," Julia added as if she hadn't heard what he'd said.

Michael replayed the conversation they'd had. He'd seen that desire in Langdon's eyes. And while he wasn't sure if it had been directed towards Julia, he'd certainly spoken more to her. Poppy had barely participated in the conversation and Langdon had seemed fine with that.

Oh what did Julia know? She didn't understand how men thought. He did. And he was certain that Langdon had set his sights on Julia.

"I know what I saw," he said to her. She rolled her eyes but didn't say anything more. "People are watching, so dance."

In a few seconds, they found themselves absorbed in the dance. Michael was enjoying the feel of her in his arms and also the sight of her face...so close to his. Her dark eyes were wide, staring into his with wonder.

They drew away from each other and Michael spun her. She came back to him then, closer. Michael knew he was staring at her, he knew that people were watching. But he couldn't look away from her face.

He rarely if ever danced. And when he did, it was only with his sisters. So the ton would no doubt be curious to see him dance with Julia. But he didn't regret this. He wanted to dance with her again. And again. He wanted her to continue looking at him the way she was now.

"You are a good dancer, your grace," she murmured.

"I am, aren't I?"

She rolled her eyes again. Michael was beginning to find that extremely adorable.

"You aren't so bad yourself," he smiled.

"All the credit for that goes to Sir Reginald," she grinned.

"Who is that?"

"A very good friend of mine in Bombay. Every time he came home to visit, he'd ask me to practice dancing with him. He was the one who taught me the waltz," Julia smiled wistfully.

"Does he mean something to you? This Sir Reginald?"

"Of course, Michael! He is the most delightful man and so very charming—"

"Why didn't you just marry the man if he's so perfect?" Michael growled.

"For one, he is of the same age as my father," Julia replied, her eyes dancing with amusement. "And he is quite devoted to his wife."

Michael released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He didn't know why the thought of any other man being dear to her made him angry but it did. It wasn't that he wanted Julia for himself...or did he?

No. They'd drive each other mad. And he really didn't have a mind to marry as of now.

His reasoning was impaired because he was attracted to her—only physically at that. Or so he kept telling himself.

Soon the set ended and Michael reluctantly lead Julia away from the dance floor.

"I wonder where Lord Langdon and Poppy are...we didn't see them dancing, did we?" Julia murmured, her eyes searching the crowd.

Michael felt his annoyance return. "That eager to join Langdon again, are you?" he muttered. He expected Julia to snap at him but she didn't.

"What is your problem, Michael?" she asked patiently. "Lord Langdon seems perfectly gentlemanly and yes I enjoyed his company. He does seem to know a great deal about the ton and it is diverting—conversing with him."

Michael opened his mouth but she didn't let him speak.

"And if you're concerned that I'm going to ask him to kiss me or encourage him in anyway, you may be at ease. I have no intention of doing any such thing. You're demonstrations were quite...efficient," she huffed, her cheeks turning rosy.

Michael didn't know what to say. But he grinned.

"Efficient? Don't you have anything better to say?"

"That is all you're going to get," she growled.

"I like you, Miss Andrews," he smiled.

"I dearly wish I could return the sentiment," she smiled back. Michael's smile widened. Only his mother and sisters ever spoke to him in such a fashion. The fact that Julia did gave him some sort of satisfaction...it was as if she was comfortable exerting her right over him, as if they were old friends...or maybe more.

He had to make sure she married soon. Because lately it felt like he'd be more than happy to let her stay close to him.

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