“But of course,” she murmured.
He swept her onto the dance floor, and they fell into step next to the other couples. To her delight, Violet found that she still knew the steps to the dance, although she was a little rusty. Mr. Bellsworth, however, didn’t seem to mind.
He seemed eager to talk and kept asking her questions about herself.
“You have another sister, is that correct? The Duchess of Eavestone?”
“Yes.”
“So two sisters became duchesses! How remarkable.”
“Yes.”
“And your sister, Miss Rosalie, do you think she dreams of a lofty title as well?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”
Mr. Bellsworth bit his lip and glanced at Rosalie and Mr. Cain, who were laughing and chatting excitedly as they waltzed near them.
Violet had to stifle a smile. She was sure that Mr. Bellsworth would prefer to be dancing with a lady like Rosalie, who was bubbly and conversational and open. Unfortunately for him, he’d been stuck with Violet.
“Er, well, you dance very well,” he remarked after a minute, and then he blushed with embarrassment. He must have known how inane that sounded.
“Thank you,” she said.
She knew she should have been helping out the poor gentleman more, but she was too distracted watching her sister. She suddenly felt paranoid.
What if Mr. Cain is a spy for my father, sent to lure Rosalie out to the gardens, where Father will kidnap her?
She shook herself.No.She was being crazy.
“May I cut in?”
His voice was…
Violet felt her heart stop as she noted the fear crossing Mr. Bellsworth’s face. She turned to see James standing next to them, a thunderous look on his face.
“James!” she gasped, before remembering herself. “Duke! What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing here? You invited me to this ball.”
“And you told me you wouldn’t be attending!”
“Well, I changed my mind.”
“Pardon me, Your Grace,” Mr. Bellsworth cut in, looking between Violet and James with an uneasy look on his face. “Did you want to dance with Her Grace?”
“Indeed, I did,” James said, before rudely snatching Violet’s hand out of Mr. Bellsworth’s.
The gentleman went pink in the face, then his expression turned sheepish. “F-forgive me, Your Grace,” he stammered. “I did not realize… that is to say… only being polite…”
“You may go now,” James commanded, not even looking at him.
Mr. bellsworth swallowed, bowed clumsily, and then slunk off. He reminded Violet of a dog with its tail between its legs. The sight was pitiful, and it roused both her sympathy and her fury.
She rounded on her husband. “Was that necessary?” she hissed. “He was only dancing with me!”
“It was necessary!” James snapped. “He had his hands all over you!”
