“For the families.”
“Very well.” She handled that silly frippery with the same efficiency and ruthlessness of a marksman.
Which only reminded him of Markham.
“Later.” Fleur brought her fan closed in a single, graceful snap. “Perhaps.”
Perhaps?
Hewas going to bloody snap.
“This set belongs to Lord Bradburn.”
Hart followed her winsome eyes to the gentleman who had arrived to claim her. “No, it’s not.”
“It is.”
The younger gentleman moved his head back and forth at their volleys.
“Why don’t we ask him?”
“Lord Bradburn,” Fleur said softly, coming to her feet, “you needn’t let him run you off.”
The younger chap said, “I believe I was mistaken.” He lied, and poorly. Bowing swiftly, he bolted.
Her previously soft eyes flashed fury. “You scared off Lord Bradburn.”
“You’re welcome.”
Fleur sputtered. “I’m…?”
“Do you truly want to marry a man who will surrender you so easily?”
That closed her mouth.
Hart stretched a hand out. “We are dancing,” he said flatly.
“Are you ordering me?”
“No.” Yes, he was. He absolutely was. But if he gave her the truth, the hoyden would put up a scene to make his jilting look like an ordinary event in Hyde Park.
“I don’t want to dance.”
“Given the ease with which you’re shedding suitors, I take it you have your heart reserved for someone.”
“Yes.”
His arm fell. “Yes.”
“Yes.” Fleur only half-heartedly attended to him. She was too busy scouring her stare about, searching for thesomeoneshe had reserved her heart for.
“Who is he?” he asked tightly.
“It is hard to say.”
He waited for her to explain whatever the hell that meant. Naturally, she wasn’t in any rush to do so.
“I thought we were friends, Lady Fleur.”
