“May I walk you back to Lord and Lady Hawthorne, Miss Hawthorne?”
She nodded, a slight spike of anxiety freezing her features for a moment before she nodded more surely.
As they walked through the aisle of stares, of the down-turned mouths of distaste or displeasure, Graham could only think of his conflictabout the dance. In five years he had not asked a lady to dance. He had lingered on the edges of ballrooms, escaping whenever he could, rudely ignoring everybody who attempted to speak with him, and wallowing in his own dour misery.
Until Miss Hawthorne.
And he could not fathom in his head why she was the exception.
He walked her back to where he saw Lord and Lady Hawthorne stood, their faces both pale.
“Lady Hawthorne.” He bowed. “Thank you for allowing me the honour of dancing with your daughter. Miss Hawthorne is an exceptional dancer.”
There was something akin to shock on the woman’s face before she schooled it into a pleasant, kind smile. “The honour is ours, Your Grace.”
Why is she so shocked? he wondered. It matched up with Amelia’s own confusion. It was as though Amelia dancing was the last thing to be expected. But it was a ball; every young woman wished to dance.
“Your Grace,” Edward greeted, shaking his hand firmly. “It is rare to see you dance. I thought we might only ever converse in the club.”
Graham winced, smiling tightly. “Tonight is full of surprises, it seems.”
And another surprise awaited him as the ballroom doors flew open, and he looked upon instinct as a call went out over the room.
“My beautiful ladies of the ton, and most respectable gentlemen, I have arrived!”
He turned, his stomach dropping at the voice of his cousin, as Lord Percival Randall entered.
“Ah, dearest nephew,” Victoria called out, greeting him, the two immediately drawing attention, as they embraced. “I am so glad you could attend. I thought you would be too busy.”
“Am I so engaged that I must forgo the ball? Do not be so humble!”
Percival moved on from Victoria and set his sights on Graham. His smile turned too wide, teeth flashing in a predatory way. He began to stalk towards him, one brow raised arrogantly. As he went, he smiled charmingly at women, shook hands with gentlemen, and praised everybody’s attire and dancing.
“My lord, I believe we met at the winter assembly! I do mean to have those contracts with you…” Percival said, interacting with more people.
“Countess Eastward, that headwear is positively becoming of you! I do hope to see more in this manner at your summer ball. I am most excited.”
And it continued, on and on, until he finally reached Graham, as ifthe man had purposefully stalled his journey just to make Graham more on edge. Nothing ruffled him quite like pointed interruptions—especially from Percival.
“Cousin,” Percival greeted when they were finally face-to-face. His voice was smooth, all silk until it revealed the true, sly man beneath. Graham had a thought to usher Amelia out of his cousin’s space.
“Percival.”
“I am ever so surprised, yet delighted, do not get me wrong, that you are out in society. Heavens, I did not think such a day would be seen!” He said it so mockingly that Graham felt himself stiffen. He was about to retort but his attention landed on the Hawthorne family—more so Amelia. “And, I must say, if it was to dance with such a delicate flower like this lady here, I understand why. You must be the Hawthorne’s eldest daughter, for I believe the other two are too young to debut yet.”
“Indeed,” Lord Hawthorne said, shaking Percival’s hand. “Lord Percival, it is good to see you.”
“And you, Lord Hawthorne.”
Graham’s jaw clenched at the attention he had given Amelia. The insincerity in his voice made Graham feel as though he had been doused in oil. Slippery and repugnant, he felt wretched for being in his cousin’s presence.
The softness Amelia had inspired in him was gone, and he was tense, scowling at Percival.
“This is Miss Hawthorne,” he introduced to Percival in a clipped voice, hating that etiquette forced him to introduce the company. “Indeed the eldest daughter. This is her mother, Lady Hawthorne.”
“As beautiful as ever, my lady.” Percival nodded to her.
“Miss Hawthorne, Lady Hawthorne, this is Lord Percival, my cousin.”
