Page 41 of Married to the Lord

“Oh, um.” Mr. Henley tugged at his cravat. “Of course, Miss Snow, I should be delighted.” He gave a little bow.

Augusta grimaced but took up the offer and allowed herself to be escorted out into the center of the ballroom for a quadrille. Mr. Henley was a fine dancer, though his fragrance was too strong and it made her wrinkle her nose to fight the desire to sneeze. However, Joanna’s plan had worked and by the time she had finished, several men asked to fill out her dance card. Although her heart and feet felt heavy, at least it passed the time better than staring at the various entrances into the rooms, waiting for Henry to arrive. Not one gentleman asked her about Henry, either, much to her relief.

After three dances, she stepped back to retrieve a drink. “You did wonderfully,” Joanna said, flipping open her fan and wafting it in Augusta’s face.

Augusta closed her eyes and took pleasure in the brief respite from the growing heat of the room and her exertion. When she opened them and straightened, she released a small squeak as the back of her heel connected with something. She staggered backward a step to connect with a solid body. She did not need to turn to know who it was.

Breath held, she turned slowly and lifted her gaze upward. Even if she’d wanted to take another breath, she could not have. From a distance, Miles was handsome and beautiful, like a stone statue that one could admire in cold indifference. When he was up close, however, there was nothing cool about her. Even if she was not already warm from dancing, he would have set ablaze under her skin.

Every inch of him sparked of intensity, as though he were a thunderstorm threatening to shoot off lightning bolts. She had heard of a man once who had survived a lightning strike and he’d talked of how the hair on his head stood on end and his scalp prickled before he was hit. That was exactly how she felt right now.

“Miles,” she said, cringing at her breathy tone.

“I was wondering if I might have the next dance.”

She glanced around him, aware of a few gazes watching their interaction. “Are you certain we should?”

“If I cannot dance with who I want in my own house, then what’s the point in even holding these infernal balls?”

“But you do not like dancing,” she pointed out.

“I forgot that I should defer to Miss Snow before deciding what I do and do not like. Forgive me, I will not forget again.”

“No, that is not what I meant...it is just...”

“You have danced with many men tonight, Gus. One dance with me will do no harm. In fact, I think it better that we dance rather than spend all evening avoiding each other, as though the gossips were correct.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “I suppose you are right.”

“High praise indeed.”

She rolled her eyes at him and allowed herself the first proper smile of the night. “A man like yourself does not need my praise, Miles.”

“There you are wrong. Praise from a beautiful woman means more than praise from a single one of my contemporaries.”

Warmth rose up in her face and she tried to will away the soft feeling his words created in her chest. To think she was so simple as to fall for a tiny compliment. Of course, it was not the compliment so much that had the effect but the source of it.

The next dance was announced, saving her from replying. They lined up for the slow country dance that most of the guests were pleased to partake in. It was an easier one for those who were not so sure footed or less inclined to dance the vigorous reels. It also gave the dancers plenty of time to talk. However, for the first few beats, Miles remained silent.

Augusta was not certain she trusted herself with anything so she remained quiet too, following the simple steps until they were in the center together, palm to palm. She swallowed hard and kept her focus ahead of her.

“I am sorry,” he said finally.

“Whatever for?”

“Henry, of course.”

“You do not need to apologize for him.”

“Of course I do. He’s my brother, my responsibility.”

Augusta turned to look at Miles. “He is a grown man, what can you do? Lock him in a dungeon?”

“If I had one, I’d be damned tempted to.” They split apart, ending up on opposite sides of the line. Augusta clapped her hands in time with the music until it was time for them to meet again, this time turning around one another.

“Do not blame yourself,” she said.

“How can I not when you have spent half of the evening looking heartbroken?” He shook his head. “You would make a fine gothic heroine, Gus, and all men would wish to come to your aid and make you smile again.”

“I had rather thought I was doing a fine job of looking utterly complacent.”

“You were, I suppose. But I noticed.” His gaze locked onto hers as they did one last twirl. “I always notice you, Gus.”

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