After giving him a polite nod, she began to inquire about her next dance partner, but before her mother could respond, Abel’s voice cut through the air.
“Lady Bridget, I ask you to allow me the honor of being your next dance partner,” he declared without a moment to waste, determination ringing in his tone as he extended a hand her way.
At that moment, Abel caught a flicker of excitement dancing across her mother’s face. However, Bridget herself wore a look of displeasure, her eyes filled with resistance as she glared at his hand like it was diseased, before raising her gaze back to his.
“I should not pull you from the excited party awaiting you, Your Grace.” She gave a tight smile as she responded. Her glare was nearly more aggressive than what he was used to. “I have many options awaiting me, and I, as well, would rather dance with someone I actually wished to dance with.”
Her words stung heavily, and Abel clenched his jaw to keep from demanding she name a man present who was a better option than him. Who on earth could she pick over him that wouldn’t raise eyebrows among the ton?
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on them, and the ballroom seemed to go silent as though they were all straining their ears to overhear the conversation. Abel’s hand remained outstretched, and from the corner of his eye, he could see the whispers being exchanged in every corner.
Undeterred by her disapproval, he gave a charming smile and extended his hand further, his words dripping with politeness. “I implore you, My Lady, to grace me with your presence on the dance floor. It would be my utmost delight to share this dance with you.”
“Unfortunately, as I said, I have to politely refuse.” She lifted the tiny card she had collected from her mother and gave him another tight smile. “As you can see, you are not on my card. My mother spent time picking appropriate options for me, didn’t you, Mother?”
“Well, I—” Ruth looked slightly panicked as the pair shifted questioning eyes in her direction. “I-I do not know, my dear. The card is not really of such importance now, is it?”
“Yes, indeed. It would be a shame to let your hard work all go to waste.” Acting oblivious to her mother’s words, Bridget smiled sardonically Abel’s way again. “There you have it.”
Abel sighed and plastered another smile on his face. “Lady Bridget, if you would?—”
“Adding to that, I heard of your desire to find a wife, and quickly at that. I assume that would be your reason for attending thisball. Do you not fear dancing with me would only waste the precious time you would spend sampling your prospects?”
Abel’s gaze narrowed at her words. He wondered if he was imagining the raging jealousy behind her nonchalant gaze. His heart thumped as the determination in his eyes grew.
“I wish to dance withyou, Lady Bridget.”
“Your Grace, you arenoton my card,” she repeated slowly, drawing out her words as though she was speaking to a child.
However, as she opened her mouth to speak again, Abel, driven by his unwavering determination, cut her off mid-sentence and gently took hold of her hand, leading her towards the dance floor.
He pulled them in position and, ignoring her gentle squirming, drew her in by the waist firmly, forcing her to come face-to-face with him.
Bridget’s soft gasp sent tingles all over his system, and his hands instinctively tightened around her as the music began.
With their gazes locked, he spoke softly and assuringly, “Never mind all that, Bridget. I am choosing this moment with you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
As their dance commenced, Abel and Bridget both moved with anger and frustration. Their steps were nonchalant towards each other, the purposeful silence telling a multitude of words.
Bridget averted her gaze with every move, this deliberate act only fueling his fury. As they glided across the dance floor, his mind raged as he waited for her to break the silence between them.
He twirled her with strength and moved her swiftly to his front at every turn, yet her gaze remained fixed on the side, her entire aura seeming to reject his existence.
Despite the anger that simmered within him, being in such proximity to her undeniably stirred a pleasant warmth in his soul.
Abel wished for the dance to never end. As she continuously rejected him with her body language, he was enveloped with a strong desire to caress her delicate face, return it to his, and steal another kiss.
Despite the pressing desperation to do so, he knew all too well the consequences such an act would bring. The watchful eyes of Society scrutinized their every move at that moment, and the scandal that would ensue would be immeasurable.
So, he resisted the temptation, burying his longing deep within his heart. Still, with each twirl and turn, he seized the opportunity to draw her closer than necessary, his eyes boring into hers, hoping to break through the barrier she had erected.
Yet, despite his passionate efforts, Bridget stubbornly kept her gaze averted. Abel’s frustration reached its peak, threatening to shatter the fragile facade of composure he was doing his best to maintain.
Unable to endure the torment any longer, he made his decision. With a firm yet gentle pull, he cautiously guided her closer with each move, their bodies pressing intimately together.
The soft, shocked gasps that escaped her lips only fueled his determination. He yearned for her to finally look at him. But with her stubbornness and resolve unyielding, Bridget did not once look in his direction, even though her cheeks burned crimson.
