Rosilee resisted theurge to glance back at the duke several times. Was he watching her? Why did she feel so alert to him? She swore his gaze burned on her, and that caused all sorts of gooseflesh to run across her skin. Her awareness of him frightened her at times. She barely knew the man. Yet, every bit she did learn of him made her even more curious about him, and eager to discover more.
“Do not be so nervous, my lady.”
She laughed. Nervously. “Well, saying that makes me even more nervous.” Especially approaching the dance floor for her first dance in society.
Why had she agreed to this?
Why, oh, why?
Just as they arrived at the outskirts of where everyone gathered to dance, she stopped, grabbing the earl by the elbow. “Wait.”
The earl glanced at her, concern filling his brows. “Is anything amiss?”
“I can’t dance,” she barely managed in a whisper.
“What?” He turned to her.
“I. Can’t. Dance.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “I mean, I can if I must, but not without embarrassing you, my lord.”
He stared at her without blinking and then burst out laughing. Not mocking in any way, but a sort of merry laughter that allowed the tension to ease from her body. “Then,” he murmured leaning close, “shall we take a stroll around the room?”
“Yes,” Rosilee said in relief. “I’d like that very much more than dancing.”
He took her hand from his elbow and placed it on his arm. “Well, I won’t complain. We will be able to converse more this way.”
She smiled at the man and found herself meeting his eyes more steadily. The Earl of Stagbourne was a handsome man, though in a refined, polished sort of way. Not as rough around the edges as the duke. His golden hair was neatly combed, his cravat impeccable. He was certainly prettier than the duke, who had an infuriating tendency to be both rugged and dangerously attractive all at once.
Why am I even comparing them?
“So, you are the Duke of Crane’s ward?”
Rosilee nodded, trying not to notice all the stares on them. “We’ve only recently arrived in London.”
He smiled at her. “Such a pity you didn’t arrive sooner. We might have enjoyed your presence at more events.”
Rosilee smiled. “I’m happy to have decided to join a bit of the excitement here in town now.”
But she hadn’t forgotten why she had attended the ball.
Leopold.
She hoped her brother was safe and holding on. And he must also be worried about her. But he knew her, too. Or at least, he ought to have known she would not have accepted this loss he caused. And as such, she could feel the steady weight ofher mission on her shoulders. And she couldn’t forget the other specter that loomed close as well—Baston. He had followed her to London, she was certain of it. He hadn’t said so outright back at the inn, but it seemed the most likely possibility. Who else could he be looking for but her? A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. Fortunately, he didn’t rub shoulders with the upper crust to the point of being invited to balls.
Stagbourne, ever observant, glanced at her again. “You seem troubled, my lady.”
“I am a bit, in fact.” She turned to him.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t go about in sweetness pretending there wasn’t a bitter cloud above her. “I shall be blunt, my lord. I am in search of a husband. I’m afraid I don’t have time forthis.”
He blinked at her again, this time his mouth opened and closed along with each blink. Finally, he managed, “This?” He laughed once more. “Is this not the very manner by which one gets to know another, which may then lead to marriage?”
Rosilee started, caught off guard by the earl’s response. “Perhaps it is,” she said slowly, her tone softening. “But I fear with my limited time, I cannot afford to—”
“—waste it?” Stagbourne finished for her, raising an amused eyebrow. “My dear lady, I hardly think a walk in pleasant company can be considered a waste of time. Perhaps I can even be of aid to you.”
“Aid to me? We have just met.” She paused, admitting, “The duke is already helping me.”
