Gwyn swallowed. “I–I wanted to show Joshua your orangery. He seemed rather keen to see it.”
Beatrice snorted. Gwyn risked a look at Joshua only to find him wearing that bland expression he wore when he didn’t want anyone delving beneath his surface.
“Well, then,” Joshua said, coming up to offer Gwyn his arm. “I suppose we’d best return to the ballroom.”
“Gwyn,” Beatrice said, “if you could please go in and give me and my brother a few moments alone? Tell Grey I’ll be there shortly.”
Joshua dropped his arm, and half in a trance, Gwyn hurried out. Oh, she would never live this down. Never! She hoped that Beatrice had been the only one to notice that both Gwyn and Joshua were gone.
Otherwise, Gwyn’s debut had just gone from magical to disastrous.
Joshua didn’t say a word as Gwyn fled. Or after, for that matter. Because judging from the look on his sister’s face, she was about to do all the talking, and it would not be pleasant.
“Are you trying to ruin her?” Beatrice asked bluntly.
“Ruin her? We merely came out here to see the orangery. And Lady Gwyn had some odd notion she could teach me to waltz, but of course that didn’t work.”
“I am not a fool,” Beatrice said calmly. “I know what I saw.”
Saw? Bloody, bloody hell.
Then he remembered that his sister could be sly when she wanted. “What could you possibly have seen but us talking?”
Beatrice stuck out her chin mutinously. “I saw her hunting for her reticule.”
“Which she dropped while we were attempting the waltz.”
“And she looked rather . . . disheveled.”
“That happened while I was hobbling about, trying to dance.”
It was no use. As Beatrice had said, she was no fool. She stared him down. “I thought you were a gentleman, Joshua, but clearly I was wrong. So help me, if you harm one hair on my friend’s head—”
“I would never harm her,” he said earnestly. “Not as long as I live and breathe.”
His sister seemed taken aback by that statement. Damn, he shouldn’t have admitted as much, especially to Gwyn’s bosom friend. But he wasn’t going to take it back. Let Beatrice make what she would of it. It was true.
He went over to straighten the cushions on the settee, and she followed him. “You harm her by walking out into the gardens with her and staying gone for half an hour or more.”
He raised a brow. “Have you been spying on me? Because I seriously doubt anyone else in that ballroom noticed.”
“That the guest of honor and the only man in uniform in the room disappeared at the same time? I assure yousomeonenoticed.”
“Who?” he demanded.
“We probably won’t know that until the gossip rags start circulating tomorrow morning.”
“Ifthat happens, andifthe gossip looks as if it might in any way ruin her reputation, I will do right by her, I swear.”
“You will marry her.”
“Not that she would have me, but yes.” Although before he did, he would demand to know what the devil was going on between her and Malet.
His sister planted her hands on her hips. “Whywouldn’tshe have you? You’re a wonderful fellow when you wish to be. But when people edge too close, you always start pushing them away, and then, of course, you end up alone. So you blame it on your wounds instead of your fear, and on and on it goes.”
“Thank you for that fine assessment of my flawed character,” he snapped. “Now, may we go in?”
She gave a heavy sigh. “Wearen’t going anywhere. I am returning to the ball andyouare leaving.”
