He didn’t even know if he was forming an attachment. Certainly, he was powerfully drawn to Isobel, but whether it was lust or something more, he wasn’t yet sure. But one thing was certain: he had to change his ways, withdraw his attentions and behave in a much more formal and circumspect manner toward her. Dammit.
To that end he sought her out in the next interval between dances and said in a low voice, “It has come to my attention that people in society have the wrong idea about us.”
A faint furrow appeared between her brows. “Wrong idea?”
“Yes, they are imagining that I’m courting you.”
The furrow deepened, but she said nothing.
“So I think it best if we distance ourselves from each other in future, starting with our planned waltz.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re canceling our waltz?”
“I think it’s best. You will have no difficulty finding another partner, I’m sure.”
Her expression was unreadable. He could see she wanted to discuss it further, but he couldn’t explain it here, in public, and draw even more attention to them, so he gave her a curt nod and walked away. He felt her gaze following him but did not turn back until he reached the door.
Turning for one last look at her, he saw Sir Jasper Vibart leading her out for the waltz. For Leo’s waltz, damn his cheek. She saw him looking, raised her chin and gave a defiant little smile. He swore silently and left.
Chapter Thirteen
Izzy slept badly that night. His words kept circling round and round in her brain.
People in society have the wrong idea about us...
People had all sorts of ideas, often quite erroneous. Was she to conduct herself according to what other peoplemightthink?
She grimaced. She supposed she should. It went against the grain, though.
They are imagining that I’m courting you.
She’d started to suspect the same thing, fool that she was. She knew—knew—that she was not the kind of girl a man of his rank would take seriously. Especially knowing what he did about her.
I think it best if we distance ourselves from each other in future.
What exactly did that mean? Clearly, he meant not to dance with her, but as Clarissa’s guardian, he was obliged to have some minimal degree of interaction.
You will have no difficulty finding another partner, I’m sure.
The words at least were clear enough, but his tone of voice? Was there an underlying criticism there? Or was she being oversensitive?
By dawn she was utterly fed up with the questions clamoring at her brain. She rose, found Jeremiah and accompanied him for an early morning walk with the dogs. When she returned, she found Clarissa preparing to take a bath, so Izzy took herself out to the rose-covered arbor to read.
She opened her book. The morning sun was beautifully warm, and the scent of the roses filled her senses, but she realized after a while that she’d been staring at the same page for the last ten minutes and hadn’t taken in a word. Her mind kept drifting to the events of the previous night.
The way he’d looked at her. The silent intensity. The way he’d danced with her. It wasn’t simply a dance, it had felt like something... more.
He’d reserved country-dances with Clarissa, and waltzes with Izzy. Which seemed to be significant—at least at the time she’d thought so. Now she wasn’t sure.
First, a magical interlude in the courtyard, followed by a heavenly dance, and then a short time later he’d approached her, all grim and serious and reneged on their second waltz. Saying they should distance themselves in future
Why had he changed his mind? Was it something she’d done? Broken one of those arcane society rules? She tried to think what it could be, but nothing came to mind.
The man blew hot and cold. She couldn’t make him out.
One minute she was sure he was interested in her—seriously interested, and that something special was growing between them—and the next minute he was all bossy and grim and guardian-y and distant.
Had she imagined that intensity between them?
