“Shush! Not that…” She tutted at him as footmen arrived with brushes and pans. “Notinnocentto the ways of fending off gentlemen, I meant. One viscount pinched my derriere so often, I took to wearing a cushion beneath my skirts.”
“What was his name?” he queried casually, fists balled once more. “I’ll break his fingers.”
She pursed her lips. “Bad for one’s references that would be.”
“Oh, Your Grace!” A lady togged in more ruffles and tassels than the ballroom curtains barged forward, clasped her hands together and squealed in delight. “How wonderful to see you! Lady Paggett, you remember me?”
“No.”
“You’ll remember my daughter though. Agatha.” And from behind the ruffles, a girl of approximately seventeen was dragged forth – short and with even more ruffles. “We are off to London this year for her first Season, and I imagine hervastdowry anddocilemanner will establish her as a diamond of the first water.” She batted her lashes. “And not on the market for long.”
Ah, now Marcus remembered.
Lord Paggett owned land to the west and had hinted the girl’s impressive dowry would also include more than a few acres. She’d be the perfect bride. Money and connection. And he wasn’t getting any younger.
“May I have this dance, Miss Paggett?” he mechanically requested.
The girl simpered, so with a nod to Charlotte, he led Miss Paggett onto the dance floor for a quadrille.
“Are you enjoying the ball?” he asked while they stood awaiting the music to commence.
“Oh, yes, I adore it.”
From the corner of his eye, he noted Charlotte now stood awaiting the same dance one couple down with Sir Edward, a bachelor with a ten thousand a year income.
“And are you looking forward to London?”
“Oh, yes, I adore it.”
“And are you looking forward to Christmas?”
“Oh, yes, I adore it.”
He frowned.
The quadrille commenced and when he briefly crossed paths with his dance partner once more, he felt compelled to ask, “Do you enjoy walking?”
“Oh, yes, I adore it.”
“Where do you adore walking? The hills? Meadows?”
“The drawing room,” she replied. “I adore walking around the drawing room. Outside is so…undomesticated.”
Marcus stared down at her tepid eyes and wondered what the devil he was doing?
And why hadn’t he asked Charlotte to dance yet?
As the couples circled and the music dipped, he heard her low chuckle, mocking his asinine choice of dance partner based on wealth and land.
Charlotte had nothing, no coin or dowry or habitable house, and yet she brimmed with such life.
When they’d first danced at that ball a lifetime ago, she’d been like a flame in his arms, full of vibrancy and repartee, slender body curving with his, so in step with one another.
He stared down to Miss Paggett. She was most pretty, no doubt had hidden talents, and would make someone a perfect wife.
But that someone was not him.
It never was.
