Page 90 of Ruthless with a Rogue
He dipped a quick bow and did what any grown man would do: he fled and left her alone on the dance floor.
Yet, even in his retreat, he could still feel her on him, the feel of the curve of her waist, of her hand in his.Flexing his trembling hand, he disappeared into the familiar shadows.
45
Livy
Livyhadkepthereyes peeled throughout the remainder of the evening, but not once had she spotted familiar jet-black waves in the crowd.
That dance… The intense way he’d looked at her, the sure way he’d touched her—she’d been his sole focus.Like she was the only thing he saw.Everything else had faded away, including his out-of-character nervousness.
All night he’d been stiff, jerky, just as he’d been the other night, masking it with a healthy dose of brooding glares.He didn’t fool her; she knew him too well now.She understood what the mask meant, and knew the more he leaned into it, the more uncomfortable he was.The mask made him feel safe.
Then there was their final conversation at the end of the dance.She bit her lip against a smile.They’d both been complete ninnies, tripping over their words.She wondered if his nerves sprang from the same root as hers.Technically, tonight was the marker that signified their arrangement was over.She’d achieved her aim.So had he.Their association ought to end.But that was the last thing she wanted.A dance floor wasn’t the place to have the conversation she wanted to have.But she’d tried to gauge where he stood.His answer had said everything.
If you were to visit, Miss Forester, his presence would be an absolute certainty.
Coming from the man who trusted no one.Allowed no one to get close.Because time and time again the world had taught him other people were not safe.That the only person who would ever put him, his welfare, his heart, first, was himself.
That answer was a declaration to Livy.She was going to show him she was safe.He didn’t need a mask with her.And once she did that, they only had one obstacle standing in their way.
“Only one more dance, my dear.”Aunt Mellie’s voice brought her back to present.“Then we will get you home and into something comfortable.I’m sure you’re fatigued.”
She deflated on a breath.“My muscles are on fire,” she murmured softly.She’d danced every set—every set.She hadn’t realized how exhausting that would be.Not just in a physical sense.She was…weary.Thankfully, her first dance had been with Quint.It’d made the next dances easier, but they still hadn’t been comfortable.
Not until Derek.
Now she was very much ready to go home, curl up on the chaise with a snack—preferably shortbread biscuits—and then head straight to bed—preferably not hers.She bit her lip against a smile.Goodness, how bold she was becoming.
Aunt Mellie chuckled.“It’s no easy matter, being sought after.”She threw Livy a wink.“Ah, Mr.Thorton is approaching for your last dance.”
Livy’s stomach flipped over, and a somberness fell over her.She was finally getting her dance with Warren.And instead of it being the beginning, it was going to be the end.
“Miss Forester.”He bowed, extending his hand.“May I escort you to the dance floor?”
Livy dipped into a shallow curtsy, then took Warren’s hand.“Please do, Mr.Thorton.”
Warren led them through the beginning of the dance, both unspeaking.There was something between them that hadn’t ever been there before.Distance.Hesitance.
“You appear to be enjoying yourself tonight,” Warren commented stiffly.
“Yes, the evening has been delightful.I’m most grateful for being admitted.”
Warren grimaced.He lowered his voice.“I owe you an apology, Liv.I said some things to you before I left for London.And I was wrong.”
Livy searched those familiar blue eyes.Was he sorry for being hurtful and tossing her aside when he deemed her unworthy?Or was he sorry because he now saw her elevated status and wanted her back?
She knew the answer; it was there in the cracks in her chest that still hadn’t completely healed.Even though she’d met others who appreciated her for who she was—Derek, Franny and Phi, Mr.Hodge—she couldn’t deny the hurt that came from the knowledge that someone she’d held a deep affection for, not just in a romantic sense, but as a friend, found her lacking.She’d thought winning Warren’s affection would be a moment of pride, of happiness.But that had been short-lived.All it did now was make her ache with heavy melancholy.
She smiled sadly, asking the true question she wanted the answer to.“Why were you with me, Warren?”
His frown deepened.“What do you mean?”
“Before now, you didn’t think me suitable.”Warren opened his mouth, but she shook her head and hurried on.“You called on me, spent daysand nightswith me.For years, Warren.But you never had the intention of marrying me?Why did you dally with me?”
Lost blue eyes stared back at her.“I knew the likelihood of my parents approving of the match was low, but…” He hesitated, and when he spoke again, there was so much uncertainty in his whisper.“I liked being with you.”
She felt the weight of those words—simple words, but the sentiment behind them was anything but.She understood all of what he said in that statement, perhaps more than he’d intended.She, too, had enjoyed her time with Warren.He had been fun, sweet when the walls of propriety came down.Despite his flawed beliefs, he had made her feel cared for, made her laugh.He had been a comfort, one she’d never experienced before.But he was past tense.They werepast tense.
