Percival caught hold of one of her hands, gripping it tightly as they swayed forward and backward. “Why did you not tell me at the time?”
His voice was thick, his brow creased with a hurt that she had somehow inflicted, though the pain was her own.
“I… was too incensed, I suppose,” she replied shyly, as they moved in a figure-eight promenade.
He shook his head. “If I had known, I never would have picked them.” He gazed into her eyes. “My mother had a rose garden. It is… gone now. Anna, I am sorry. I?—”
“Why did you pick them that night? Was it truly to cheer up your bedchamber?” she interrupted, uncomfortable with his apologies.
His retorts and his mockery and his quarreling put her at a strange sort of ease, but this… softness was baffling to her. Confusing to the point of rendering her mute again. Indeed, they very fact that they were dancing together, and dancing so well, made her throat want to close up altogether.
Percival halted abruptly—a part of the dance, Anna quickly realized—and bowed his head to her. “I picked them for you, Anna,” he said as he raised his gaze. “I picked them to apologize for the callousness I showed earlier that day. I saw your hurt, I knew I was being deliberately unkind, and I thought of nothing but saying “sorry” throughout the entire garden party that your brothers and I attended. You have never deserved my cruel tongue, Anna. From our youth to now, you have never deserved it—well, not often, anyway.”
He smiled then. A full, beaming smile that stole the breath from Anna’s burning lungs. His eyes sparkled with mirth, and in that moment, she understood; she saw what all those ladies of thetonsaw when they looked at him. She understood why they fluttered their fans and fawned over him, blushing and giggling. She understood why he was deemed so very handsome and so charming.
He picked them as an apology. I ripped them from his hand.She did not know what to say, the shock of the revelation rippling through her veins, making her unsteady. She had built the foundations of their relationship on a mutual dislike, or toleration at the very least, but knowing everything she knew now, those foundations were crumbling.
Indeed, unlike with other gentlemen, it had served as a wall of solid iron between them, preventing any sort of affection from creeping in. If that was not there… if he continued to be gentle with her…
“From now on,” he continued softly, “I will say only nice things. Only the things you deserve to hear.”
Panic slithered across her chest and down into her stomach, where her innards knotted and writhed. At least, she thought it was panic; it felt very similar, causing her cheeks to warm, and her hands to tremble.
“Did I mention you look beautiful tonight?” Percival said, still wearing that breathtaking smile. “There is no other lady here who could hold a candle to you.”
She cleared her throat, willing the music to strike up again, for she was certain that everyone could hear the tremendous thud of her heart.
“It is unkind of you to jest after you have just promised not to,” she managed to say, though her voice sounded tight and high, even to her own ears. “Thegownis beautiful, but one cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.”
“Nor can one make a sow’s ear from a silk purse,” he replied, taking hold of her hand once more.
He bent his head and pressed his lips to the silk of her glove, his dark green eyes never leaving hers. Her breath caught, a shiver running through her. All at once, the vast ballroom felt too small, too crowded, too overwhelming to bear. She could not breathe, could not think, as that feeling that was both panic and not panic began to surge through her.
“Will you join me in a second dance?” he asked, as the call sounded out for new partners to take to the floor and others to depart.
Breathless, she shook her head. “You… should not be… dancing with me in the first place,” she wheezed. “Stop this behavior. Please, stop this. It is… not kind. No, not at all. Nor is it helpful to your cause. Lady Joan might be watching… and that would not serve you well.”
“And she would see nothing unkind or untoward,” he told her, a puzzled expression forming on his face. “Am I not permitted to say that you look beautiful? Can I not say nice things?”
Not in that voice. Not while gazing at me like that. Not with that smile upon your lips. Not when I am already so confused I cannot bear it. Not now that… I know things I did not before. Not now that I understand you better.She said none of that, turning her head away instead.
“Thank you for the pleasant dance,” she said, dipping into a curtsy. “You should ask Lady Joan for the next one, as I shall hope that Lord Luminport has not lost the inclination to ask me.”
She walked away from him, and the crowds seemed to part for her, as if guiding her back to where she belonged. Up ahead, Simon awaited her, with a nervous smile upon his face. She smiled back, fearing she must look quite insane, for she was in no condition to form a natural smile.
“You danced beautifully,” Simon said, as she approached. “One of the most entertaining dances I have seen. So lively and invigorating.”
Anna nodded. “A little too invigorating, I fear.” She clasped a hand to her chest, her heart racing. “If you will excuse me, Lord Luminport, I am in dire need of fresh air.”
“Oh, well, allow me to escort you,” Simon insisted. “I believe I saw Lady Caroline and the Earl of Westyork stepping out onto the terrace, so we shall be in good company.”
“Thank you,” she managed to say, feeling dizzier by the moment.
Gripping tightly to Simon’s arm, she allowed him to lead her through the throng of guests—more had arrived that day, to enjoy the ball—and toward the terrace doors.
At the threshold, where a cooler breeze caressed her cheeks, she knew she ought to stride out without looking back. But it was as if there were a string attached to the back of her neck, and it pulled taut as she tried to escape the heat of the ballroom.
Compelled, Anna turned to glance back over her shoulder.
