Page 81 of Shining Knight
“What are your intentions towards her?” Knighton asked, not mincing words.
Graham did turn to gaze at his oldest friend then.
He raised a hand in defense, which was about as much in the way of dramatics as one would get from the duke. “She seems to have some doubts.”
That was an understatement. “My intentions are true,” Graham said carefully.
“Do you wish for the match, however? Answer me as your friend, not as her guardian.”
Graham turned his gaze back to Eugenia and watched her twirl and exchange partners. “I wish for it.”
“Then erase her doubts,” Rowley said simply.
Commanded, more like.
If only he could achieve such a thing. “I intend to.”
Rowley inclined his head and then returned to his duchess. Graham decided to continue watching Eugenia for a while before deciding whether or not to approach her. He looked around the room and greeted the familiar faces. The squire’s young daughter was a little plump and still had spots on her face, so he asked her for the next dance.
He did his best not to stare at Eugenia, but it was the old moth to a flame adage. He seemed to be drawn to her light as though it were necessary for his survival.
Gentlemen flocked to Eugenia when the first dance was over, and he knew he might find himself without the opportunity to secure one for himself. Yet neither of them had met the other’s gaze and he dared not be the first to renege on his agreement with her. He was not certain she had even noticed he was there.
The next dance was a quadrille, and he went over to claim Miss Miller. He led her out onto the floor and they took their places. He bowed to his partner and when he straightened, his eyes met Eugenia’s deep blue stare. Their gazes held, as if she also were unable to look away, and then he saw her sadness even when she turned and smiled at her partner.
Even if he was unable to claim her as a partner that night, he would, at the very least, be able to touch her as they exchanged partners in the movements of this one.
How many times had he taken for granted the smallest touches?No more.
He came forward and took Miss Miller’s hand, finding nothing remarkable at all in it. When they exchanged partners and his hand met Eugenia’s, and he looked down into her face, it was one of the most enthralling conversations he had ever had without words. The touch, the warmth, the glove to glove and the looks of longing suddenly made him understand the madness of poets. He was greedy for more, yet he would not speak words. Every sense was heightened, and he memorized them as though they might be his last smell or feel, drinking them in like a fine wine.
When he returned to Miss Miller, it was an effort to recall his gentlemanly manners, though he would have sworn before that they were second nature.
When he had another chance to touch Eugenia, she broke the spell. “You should not look at me like that,” she said quietly while they watched each other through their turn.
“How do I look at you?” he asked, finally free to speak since she had spoken first. “Like you are the most beautiful woman in the room?”
“Certainly not,” she said sharply and turned away.
He had a great deal of work to do to convince her, but tonight was not the night. She was not yet ready—he could see that.
He returned Miss Miller to her mother and went to the refreshment table. He was not prepared to risk any more encounters with Eugenia. By now, her dance card would be full, which was for the best.
From the corner of his eye he saw a swath of green velvet sidle up beside him.
“Good evening, Mr. Tinsley,” said the Duchess of Knighton.
He turned and made a bow. “Your Grace. Lemonade?” He held up a glass. “It is superior to that to be found at Almack’s.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the offering. “Is something amiss with Eugenia?” she asked, guiding him off to the side, away from listening ears.
“I do not believe so.” He answered vaguely, not wishing to betray Eugenia’s confidences. However, the duchess was very keen and she considered him carefully. “I noticed you did not ask her to dance this evening.”
“The night is still young, Your Grace.”
“Let me know if I can help,” she said softly before she walked away.
“If only I knew what to ask for,” he murmured into his glass of lemonade.
