“Are you?” she gave him a sly, satisfied smile. “Then I’m glad you asked me to dance.”
He quirked a brow but didn’t bother to point out, again, that he hadn’t asked her to dance. But he could confess, at least to himself, that she was an excellent dancer. They moved across the floor in an effortless grace that somehow made him feel lighter. Like he hadn’t been weighted down by years of struggle.
He shook his head, banishing these thoughts. Dancing was a short activity that would soon be over. What he wished to build was a life.
His gaze lifted to the woman he’d meant to ask for this dance. The one for whom he’d attended this ball. The one he’d earmarked as a potential choice with whom to build his future.
Miss Charlotte was dancing with another man, her smile sweetly shy rather than boldly confident. He watched her spin around, her chin angled down toward the floor. His own jaw clenched.
“Who are we looking at?” Abigail tapped his shoulder. “I’m always curious to know the gossip of the day.”
“Gossip?” he asked, frowning. “I’m afraid I don’t have any. I’m not much for spreading rumors.”
Something in her smile softened then. “How...sweet.” She shook her head. “I only assumed because your gaze was so fixed.”
His mouth opened and then closed again, for the first time, he considered that he might be behaving impolitely to the woman he danced with. He’d conceded to the dance, after all, and so he owed her his attention. “My apologies, my lady. I was on my way to ask another—”
Abigail’s face turned to granite before his eyes. Her features were the same, high cheekbones, small straight nose, but somehow her eyes had lost their sparkle as everything about her hardened. “I see.”
Alex could have kicked himself. No one wanted to feel like a second choice, and though he’d felt nearly accosted by this woman, he was a gentleman and she a lady and she deserved his most respectful treatment. He gave her his best smile. “But I am most fortunate to be in your company.”
She relaxed in his arms again. “And I yours.” She tilted her chin down and looked up, the effect coquettish and disarmingly flirtatious. “It was a pity we never had the chance at the Arundel party.”
The memory of that fateful event made Alex smile. It wasn’t every day one watched one’s strong, fierce, war-hero friend fall head over heels in love. It had been highly entertaining to see. Max had married exactly the sort of woman Alex hoped to find. Marigold was a sweet and lovely girl, perfect for Max. They were both good people of high quality. Max had recently helped Alex invest his savings with amazing results.
She tipped her head to the side. “If I recall, you were rather interested in Marigold.”
He quirked a brow. He did like Max’s wife a great deal, but part of his interest had been in showing Max that Marigold had been perfect for his friend. “Are you friends with the new Marchioness?”
Color tinged her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “Not exactly.”
They passed by Charlotte and her partner, her brown eyes catching his for the briefest second before they continued on and her partner spun her away.
But Alex watched her go and Abigail followed his gaze. “Miss Charlotte?” she asked, craning her neck.
He was being rude again and that wouldn’t do. “To be fair, we’ve not actually been introduced.”
Abigail pressed her lips together as she looked at him again. “That makes sense. Anyone who is acquainted with her would not be so interested.”
He nearly stopped on the floor. His movements halted for the briefest second before he continued on, spinning Abigail in a wide arc. Her words had been rude to say the least and they affirmed his impression, not of Miss Charlotte, but of Abigail. “She seems a lady of the first water to me.”
Abigail laughed and the sound rankled along his nerves. “Now it’s truly clear you’ve not met her.”
He swallowed down the barbs that rose to his lips. No, he’d not met her, but he’d been watching her, and Charlotte appeared nothing if not quiet and sweet. But he’d not contradict Abigail when he had no facts to prove her wrong. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
Abigail shook her head. “Do you remember when you said you didn’t need to be saved?”
The music was fading, the song drawing to a close. He nearly sighed in relief. “I remember.”
She moved closer and her scent wrapped about him. Not only did her eyes look like the color of a French lake but she smelled like the fields of summer flowers that had bordered the Alps, sweet and fresh with the barest hint of dew still clinging to the stems. Her eyes sparkled again as her chin tilted up to look at him, he had the feeling that he might drown in those eyes.
Which was absurd. He didn’t like her. She’d just been rude to a perfectly lovely girl.
“Well, I was right. You do need a rescue. Desperately.”
He grimaced, slowing as the final strains of music died. “I can assure you, Lady Abigail, that as a veteran of the war, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Her lips spread into a wide grin, the sort that made her look fresh and innocent. The kind that might make him forget her true nature. “I’ve no doubt about that, but even the bravest men can fall victim to the wrong woman.”
That was not what was happening here. He was certain of that.
“Thank you for an interesting dance, Lady Abigail.” He stepped away, giving a short bow. “I’d escort you back to your family but I’m not certain I know who they are.”
“That’s all right,” she waved toward a woman who stood just a few feet away. The other woman looked nearly identical to Abigail and it briefly occurred to him that the siren before him would keep her fine
