His chest tightened. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Helena chuckled—a musical sound with no true malice. “No matter. I suppose time will reveal the truth of it.” She paused, then tilted her head, eyes dancing. “I only hope, if you find yourself drawn in a particular direction, you won’t let outside pressure hinder you.”
Henry frowned, uncertain how to respond. “Outside pressure is what brought me here tonight,” he admitted, more candidly than he’d intended.
“Indeed.” Helena’s gaze flicked toward the dowager duchess, who stood across the room, observing them with hawklike intensity. “Yet sometimes, it’s better to follow one’s own inclination—if that inclination happens to align with… oh, certain quiet, green-gowned ladies.”
He almost stumbled at the audacity of her implication. Quickly regaining his step, he forced a polite laugh. “You speak in riddles, Miss Steele.”
She bobbed her head. “It’s my nature, perhaps. I do love a riddle. But I love romance even more.”
Henry blinked in surprise. Miss Steele was certainly more forthright than her friends in theton. But was she trying to set him up with Charlotte, or herself? He was completely baffled.
Before Henry could press her for clarification, the cotillion ended. Helena curtsied, and he bowed. “That was… a pleasure,” he murmured, attempting to mask his confusion.
Helena’s eyes gleamed. “Quite enjoyable, Your Grace.”
With that, she sashayed off, leaving him standing alone among the milling dancers. His mother appeared almost instantly, hooking her arm through his and leading him aside.
“Well?” his mother asked. “Did you find her an acceptable partner?”
“She dances well enough,” Henry murmured, replaying their conversation in his head and trying to make sense of it.
She sighed. “The Steeles are hardly the sort of family we want to marry into. But their connections could be useful in unexpected ways.”
Before she could march him to another introduction, he spotted William across the floor, standing near a potted fern. Henry seized the chance.
“Mother, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, stepping away. “I see Lord Fitzgerald. I have urgent business to discuss with him.”
He didn’t wait for her approval. Slipping between clusters of guests, Henry reached William, who was sipping from a half-empty glass of champagne. His friend’s posture looked tense, his eyes straying back and forth. Henry followed William’s line of sight and saw Charlotte dancing with none other than Roger Leonard.
“Charlotte looks rather uncomfortable.”
“She often does at these events,” William replied, shrugging. “She hates the bustle, the crowd, the prying eyes. If you ever spot her alone at a ball, you’ll see her with her back pressed to the wall, trying to vanish. But Leonard hasn’t left her alone all night. Even those friends of hers have been trying to lead her away, but the man is like a limpet. Still, at least someone is showing an interest in her, which is a wonder considering how shy she is.”
“I see.” Perhaps that explained Genevieve and Helena’s behavior.
“I’ve been dancing with a few young ladies, letting Mother think I’m coming around. Are you doing the same?”
Henry nodded. “Yes. A temporary show of compliance, as you suggested. I’ve danced four times already, and I daresay my mother won’t be satisfied until I’ve circled the entire room.”
One side of William’s mouth hitched up wryly. “At least you have your mother’s blessing to choose from a crowd. Mine keeps threatening to corner me with a wealthy widow twice my age.”
They both chuckled just as the music ended, and the guests applauded politely. Charlotte and Leonard stepped apart, and from where Henry stood, he saw Leonard lean in again with a too-familiar grin. Charlotte’s attempt at a polite smile looked thoroughly unconvincing.
Just then, Charlotte looked in his direction. He locked eyes with her for an instant, but then she dipped her head, wrenching her eyes away even as she made her way toward him. A hint of color suffused her cheeks, and Henry felt a surge of protectiveness.
He shoved the feeling down. Tonight was about maintaining a charade for his mother’s sake, not entangling himself in the business of his friend’s younger sister.
Still, he couldn’t help wanting to get her away from Leonard.
With a slight shake of his head, Henry glanced around, anticipating his mother’s inevitable reappearance—and another introduction, no doubt.
If he danced with Charlotte, he could rescue them both.
Charlotte reached them, looking flustered. Leonard trailed after her, a fresh glass of brandy in hand. The sight of Charlotte’s discomposure twisted something inside Henry. He couldn’t bear how her brow knit in distress or the tense smile she forced to her lips as Leonard reappeared at her arm. It was clear that William was going to do nothing to rescue his sister.
Henry cleared his throat. “Lady Charlotte,” he said with a slight bow. “May I request the next dance?”
