Page 3 of Rescued from Betrayal
“It seems you have been overlooked.”
Melior glanced over her shoulder. Sir Nathaniel stood far too close for her comfort. Irritation gathered like hot pokers in her chest. Of course he would be the one to notice her position and yet not do anything about it. “I am simply tired. Perhaps I will dance the next set.”
Then again, ifhehad asked her she would not have accepted. They had never danced together… at least not in a public ballroom. There had been that one time when she was fifteen and he’d come home with her brother from Harrow. She would not have danced with him then either if her dancing masterhad not been so insistent she learn the steps to the Allemande Cotillion by his next visit.
It was Eddie’s fault she had been forced into the situation. He was the one who insisted they needed more dancers instead of simply reviewing the steps with her. Unwanted memories of her hand in Sir Nathaniel’s made gooseflesh appear on her arm. Would it feel the same now as it had all those years ago?
She flicked her gaze toward the refreshment table trying to focus on anything but that long ago memory. Sir Nathaniel shifted his position to stand next to her, and she nearly stepped away, but Mr. Thomas Fairchild approached on her other side.
“Miss Kendall, why is a dazzling lady such as yourself not dancing?” Mr. Fairchild’s smile was engaging, but there was something behind it that always set her on edge. It was too practiced and his words too flowery.
Latching onto her hand, he bowed over it. “Do allow me to lead you to the floor.”
Something in the back of her mind resisted and she pulled her hand out of his. “I thank you, sir. I… I—”
“She cannot,” Sir Nathaniel said, “for she has already accepted my request to dance.”
His gloved hand slipped into hers and he gently placed her hand on his forearm. “Perhaps another time, Mr. Fairchild.”
Sir Nathaniel led her away before Mr. Fairchild uttered another word. She was so taken aback that she did not refute his claim. Then again, if she refused his rescue, she would be forced to dance with Mr. Fairchild.
While Mr. Fairchild was in line for an earldom—or so his father claimed—she could not bring herself to regret Sir Nathaniel’s interference. Even so, she would not let his actions go without reprimand.
“What makes you think you can make a declaration like that and I will simply go along with it?” she hissed.
“Come Miss Kendall, I am not blind. You did not wish to dance with Mr. Fairchild and I am providing you a way out of the obligation. A thank you would suffice.”
“And why would a dance with you be any better than with him?”
“Because, at least with me, you have no fear that I would desire any further connection with you.”
The declaration stung. Every man she had ever met had an interest in her. They flocked to her feet. She had turned down three marriage proposals her first season alone. Every one of them had declared her the picture of perfection, even down to her nearly straight teeth. How many women had a claim to such good looks and fortune?
And yet, Sir Nathaniel acted as if she was no more than a flower girl peddling her wares on the street.
“Well then, we are equal, for I have no interest in you, either.”
He nodded curtly before taking her hand and leading her down the floor between the couples. To her dismay, that old odd sensation skittered up her arm at his touch, and her heart began to palpitate most uncomfortably in her chest. She tried to attribute it to the activity of the dance, but the Talavera was performed at a far more sedate pace than most of the dances she’d participated in during the evening.
Perhaps it was an effect of her anger. A piece of her was tempted to argue her many advantageous qualities, but good sense won out. There was no use in arguing with a man so much beneath her notice, even if he had engaging green eyes and wonderfully dark lashes.
Inadvertently, she clenched her hand on his arm at the thought. He glanced at her, but unlike her, Sir Nathaniel appeared unphased by their contact. His wide brow was free of wrinkles, and he showed no sign of concern. It was quite disconcerting to see him so wholly unaffected by the experience.
She wanted to shake him to see if he would even feel that. Probably not. His mind did not seem to be in the same room with her. Even though they were dancing together, he acted as if she did not exist, only glancing at her when absolutely necessary.
Unfortunately, the aggravating excitement at his touch continued into the second dance, stealing her wits and binding her tongue. Why did her body have to react to this man in particular? It was enough to make her want to stop dancing, something she’d never done because of how much it was frowned upon. No, she would not commit such a social faux pas.
She peeked at him again, wondering if they would speak at all, but his gaze focused straight ahead.
Well, two could play at this game. She glanced down the line at the other dancers only to see Lord Caraway standing up with her enemy Lady Jane. How had her night gone from perfect to a disaster so fast?
When the set was over, Sir Nathaniel led her to her friends and bowed over her hand before he left them.
“You danced with Sir Nathaniel?” Edith asked, her thin dark eyebrows reaching almost to the tiny brown curls that graced her forehead. “I can hardly believe it. What circumstance facilitated that desperate measure?”
“Mr. Fairchild.” Melior beat her fan rapidly to hide her flushed cheeks and scowl.
“Why would you choose a mere baronet over a man in line for an earldom? Mr. Fairchild is quite handsome and charming too. What were you thinking, Mellie dear?”
