Why was his mere look making her feel so flushed? She had to stop allowing herself to spend so much time with him. She wasn’t here for a conversation with him—she was here to save herself from an unfortunate marriage arranged by her hapless brother…
And yet the last ten minutes had been the most enjoyable she’d had since her father’s death. That in itself, she knew, was a bad sign, for she ought not to be having a grand time with the man assigned as her guardian. Still, at this moment, she wished for nothing more than the ability to keep talking to him, to hear his stories… to be near him.
And judging by the way he smiled at her, she wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, he felt the same.
CHAPTER 9
“Excuse me, I believe this is my dance,” Lord Pembroke declared suddenly.
Aaron felt a rush of irritation, for he hadn’t even been aware the man had made his way over to them, so engrossed had he been in their chat. He looked at the man, wanting to admonish him for interrupting their conversation, but then he realized that this was exactly why they were there. For her to dance, not to stand in the corner, relaying travel stories.
“Of course,” he said and stepped back.
“Lord Pembroke, a pleasure to see you again.” Judith smiled broadly at the young man, who offered her his hand.
Aaron’s eyes followed her arm as it moved toward Lord Pembroke, who took it. As he placed a small kiss on the back of her hand, Aaron noted her moving slightly, as though she wasuncomfortable with this. Something they would have to address later.
“Your Grace,” she said with a small nod, before Lord Pembroke walked her to the dance floor, where dancers were now lining up for the quadrille.
Aaron watched them, his bottom lip trembling.He had so enjoyed his conversation with her that he hadn’t realized how quickly the country dance had come and gone. Nor had he anticipated how much he would dislike the feeling of her dancing with another man. Yet, there she was, about to dance with Lord Pembroke.
What if the two of them truly liked one another? What if, by some strange twist of fate, she would indeed find herself in a courtship with the very first man Aaron had introduced her to? Well, the first man atthis ball, for the first one had been Henry—but that would’ve been a disaster all around.
“Aaron,” a voice called suddenly.
Aaron felt a chill run down his spine. Indeed, it felt as though his entire skeleton had turned into ice with the snap of a finger. He turned to look at the source of that voice, sucking in a lungful of air as if he were about to dive into the deepest ocean.
“Amelia,” he uttered, once the all too familiar face appeared before him.
“No, I am now Lady Lundgren,” she replied coldly, her green eyes flashing with an anger he had long forgotten.
Lady Lundgren, of course. She had gotten married. When? Six months ago? A year? He couldn’t quite remember. Oliver had shared with him the news that his former fiancée had found a husband, but Aaron hadn’t paid much attention then, nor had he been terribly concerned about finding out more.
Why had she approached him? She had made it clear the last time they spoke that she never wanted to see him again. Knowing her, she likely had come to gloat and flaunt her newfound happiness and wealth in front of him, for the one thing he did remember was that her new husband was richer than him, despite being a marquess, not a duke.
“Lady Lundgren,” he corrected. “I am surprised to see you here. I thought that you no longer attended balls and such now that…”
“Now that I have finally been removed from the marriage mart?” she supplied in a tone as cold as the icy shivers that still ran through him.
“Indeed. I was always under the impression that young ladies only came out in order to set their cap at somebody. But I must have been wrong.”
“You were wrong about a great many things, Your Grace,” she said with a smile, though it didn’t escape his attention that she’dswitched to using his title rather than his first name, which she’d used to get his attention. Like an opening salvo in a war, rather.
He felt a pearl of sweat bead on his brow, which was peculiar because it wasn’t particularly warm. True, the ballroom was teeming with people. Candles were burning, but it was January, and outside, it was frigid cold. Still, here he was, sweating as if it were a sunny day in August.
He remembered the last time he had met Amelia. The day he had told her that he did not wish to marry her. They had been courting for several months, and in fact, wedding preparations had been in progress.
Aaron had known he didn’t want to marry her from the first meeting, but it hadn’t been his choice but his father’s. The late Duke had been of the opinion that Aaron was old enough to wed. Only two-and-twenty at the time, he hadn’t agreed in the least. He’d wanted to explore the world and find his place in it before marrying, but the late Duke had been insistent. His mother, herself chained to her husband by way of an arranged marriage, had been more sympathetic, but she’d already been ill then and hadn’t had much strength to fight a battle not her own.
Thus, he’d been forced to meet Amelia. He had been so averse to the thought of marrying her that he’d fantasized about escaping. He and Oliver had made plans to vanish to India or Australia. How odd that he felt more comfortable with the idea of escaping to a place where prisoners were routinely sent rather than getting married.
Looking at Amelia now, he understood his younger self’s decision. True, she was beautiful, there was no denying that. She had porcelain skin, the complexion any young lady of the ton desired. Her green sparkling eyes and blonde hair made her a highly desirable beauty. And she came from one of the country’s wealthiest families.
If he had been a man who cared about his social standing, he might have been pleased with the match. But he wasn’t a man who cared about his standing. He wasn’t a man who cared about Society. He was a man who cared about his freedom and the right to make his own decisions.
“You cannot even pay attention to me for five minutes,” she sneered, her voice like a serrated knife through his flesh.
“I apologize. I was thinking about the last time we spoke.”
