When he looked at her, it was as though her world seemed to stop.
Tara was almost certain that she heard thunder just outside the window as his bold eyes alighted on hers. Her skin covered itself in goosebumps and everything went suddenly very hot and very still. Her heart was torn in two directions – she was drawn to him and yet was desperate to remove herself from his presence. The way his blue eyes dazzled her had her breath swirling in her chest and yet the guilt was like a heavy thunder-cloud, hanging ominously over her head.
“Tara.”
A gentle nudge from her sister made Tara’s breath hitch again. Had the introductions been made already? She had not been able to hear a single word of what had been said and now, it seemed the expectation was upon her. Even Lord Pottinger’s eyebrows were lifted.
“I am very glad to make your acquaintance.”
Mumbling, she dipped into a curtsey. It was certainly not one of her best, but it was adequate enough and she was quickly able to drop her gaze from his face, clasping her hands behind her back and making to take a step away so that her sister could continue the conversation while she confronted her battling feelings.
“I am glad to hear that you like dancing,” Mary continued, her voice bright and airy, a stark contrast to Tara’s fear and confusion. “I do hope you will step out with many young ladies this evening.”
Lord Pottinger chuckled, but a quick glance towards his face told Tara that he was not particularly enamored of such a suggestion, for there was no light in his eyes and his lips dropped back into place at the very next moment.
“If you are requesting a dance from me, then I should be very happy to oblige, Miss Shaw.”
Again, Tara found herself less than convinced by this statement, but if it would take Lord Pottinger away from her, then she was very relieved indeed. To be so near to him was confusing her, for whilst guilt tore at her, she also found herself considering how attractive a gentleman he was.
“I should be very glad to dance with you, as I am certain would Miss Duncansbyandmy sister.”
Tara’s pulse began to race. Surely her sister had not said such a thing as that? Not only was it forward, but it was also highly embarrassing. She had no wish to dance with anyone, least of all with Lord Pottinger! It would only unsettle her even more!
This must have been Mary’s intention. From the very beginning of this evening, she has intended me to dance with at least one gentleman – but why did it have to be Lord Pottinger?
Her eyes closed, but she could not bring herself to say a single word. All she wanted to do was to turn around and state that she certainly could not stand up with anyone, but that would make the situation even more unbearable.
It was not until Lord Pottinger’s hand reached out to hers that she realized he was asking for her dance card. Such had been her mortification that she had not even heard him accepting the suggestion from her sister and nor had she looked into his face to see whether or not he was pleased. Given the way his smile had faded at the first suggestion her sister had put to him, Tara was quite sure that he was not pleased with the situation, but she had no other choice but to hand him her card. A dreadful fear that he recognized her battled in her heart, winding its way through her veins like thick black soot which permeated everything.
“The polka.”
His voice held no anger as he spoke to her, returning the card, and when she glanced at him, there was no flare of recognition in his eyes, nor a frown of disgust.
“Thank you.”
Quite how she managed to get the words out, Tara was unsure, for her lips felt bruised, her tongue a little large. Glancing at her dance card and mortified that there would only be one name upon it, she quickly slipped it onto her wrist and kept her head low. She would only stand up with one gentleman the entire evening.
“My sister is much too good to me, Lord Pottinger,” Tara heard Mary continue, even as she silently willed her to stop talking. “She has given up her own Season to make certain that I am well cared for and that I find myself a suitable match in due course. That is why you will find yourself as the first name on her dance card, although I am determined to make certain you are the first of many!”
“Mary, please!” Grasping her sister’s hand, Tara gave her a small shake of the head, but the words had already been spoken. Daring a glance towards Lord Pottinger, Tara caught the slight lift of his eyebrows, his blue eyes a little confused. No doubt he was wondering why Mary did not have a chaperone of her own, so that the burden would be lifted from Tara’s shoulders.
Or perhaps it is that he has recognized me and is now wondering why a lady of the night is parading herself in the London ballrooms.
“A generous gesture, I am sure.” Lord Pottinger’s quiet murmur made her cheeks flush, and she dared not look at him any longer. Dark memories were beginning to surface, remorse settling on her shoulders. Thus far, he did not appear as though he was a gentleman without fortune, but she knew the truth. She knew it could not be as it appeared. No doubt in his home, there was a great deal of turmoil, and all because of her actions. Her decision to do as she had been bade had caused him to lose his fortune, and she had done such things willingly, in many respects. At present, it did not appear as though he recognized her, but there then again, he might simply be a sensible gentleman, and wary of making a scene in front of theton.
“I am sure that there will soon be a great many other gentlemen to sign your sister’s dance card.”
Lord Pottinger smiled quickly, although it was not directed towards Tara, but rather at Mary. Was it because he could not bring himself to look at her? Because he knew what she had done? Or was she seeing more in the situation than there truly was?
“Thank you, Lord Pottinger.”
Mary smiled warmly and Tara forced herself to mumble the same sentiment, before watching the man turn away. He walked swiftly across the ballroom, and Tara could not drag her eyes from him. It was foolish indeed to be drawn to a gentleman who could have nothing but anger against her, and yet her heart appeared quite determined. Sighing inwardly, Tara closed her eyes, wondering what excuse she could find for the polka.
“He is quite wonderful, is he not?”
Miss Duncansby immediately began to exclaim over Lord Pottinger, but Tara could not help but allow her anger to bubble at her sister’s actions. The moment Miss Duncansby took a breath, Tara grasped her sister’s hand.
“How could you do such a thing?” Keeping her voice low, she sent a hissed whisper in her sister’s direction. “I have no wish to dance. You know that I am here as your chaperone!”
