Something in his tone must have betrayed him, because her brow creased. "He was pleasant."
"Oh?" He tried to keep his voice mild. Difficult to do when an odd and completely unwarranted anger had his heart hammering.
"Yes. He seemed pleasant and kind. John tells me he's considered a respectable, well-liked gentleman." She tilted her head. "Why?"
"No reason," he said. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."
She studied him with those honest dark eyes that never let him get away with anything. Then she smiled. "I am. Thanks to you."
The music carried them through the rest of the dance. Kit held her hand and smiled and told himself the tightness in his chest was nothing to be concerned about.
It meant nothing. Nothing at all.
The final notes faded and they bowed to each other along with the rest of the set. Before Clarissa could drift back toward Estella or Lord Hartley and his tales of India, Kit touched her elbow. "Walk with me?"
She gave him a curious look. "Where?"
"I saw doors to a terrace." He nodded toward the far end of the ballroom. "It's warm in here, don't you think?"
Her smile made his heart leap. "It is indeed. Fresh air sounds lovely."
He led her toward the terrace. Fresh air would likely help his muddled state. But more than that…
He simply didn't want to share her with the ballroom for another minute.
The night air was cool after the ballroom's heat, and the garden beyond was lit with lanterns. There were others out here, couples and a small group of ladies laughing as they whispered.
But no one paid them any mind as they stood at the stone balustrade, close enough that her sleeve brushed his coat. The noise of the ballroom was muffled out here, and for the first time all night, Kit felt like he could actually breathe.
Clarissa tilted her face up to the sky. "You've been quiet this evening."
"Have I?" Yes, he supposed he hadn't been talking like usual. Or acting like himself at all, really.
It wasn't like him to be petty and jealous over a lady's time and attention. But at some point over the past few weeks, he'd grown accustomed to being by her side. To being the one she talked to and laughed with and smiled at, and?—
"Something is bothering you," she said.
When he just stared at her, too dumbstruck by her candor to respond, she hurried on. "It's all right if you don't want to talk about it. Of course it is. I just want you to know that you can— But that is, I don't expect you to, it's just—" She cut herself off abruptly and gave him a chagrined little smile. "I thought you'd be happy."
"I am happy." He said it a little too quickly.
It was such a boldfaced lie, he wasn't even certain why he'd tried. Nothing about his tone or demeanor matched the words, and in truth, he hadn't even tried.
She tilted her head to the side. "You don't look happy."
"And should I be particularly pleased this evening?" His voice was laced with amusement and his lips curved up in a droll smile. "Must I be brimming over with joy just because we're at a festive party?"
But Clarissa saw right through him. "No," she said slowly. "But I thought you would be. After all, you've earned your pay, Kit. The assignment is nearly done. I'd think you'd be relieved to finish it."
There it was. Delivered lightly, with a small smile. But her eyes were serious.
If he didn't know better, he'd say it was a challenge.
And heaven help him if he didn't feel the weight of it bearing down on him, crushing him where he stood.
Did she want him to argue? That was what he'd wanted. To complete the assignment, get the funds he needed, keep his family's appearance intact, and?—
And then what? Just walk away?
