Page 72 of Duke of Sapphire

She watched him look directly at Redmont with an expression that was not threatening, or theatrical, or anything that could be remarked upon in polite company. It was simply clear. Absolutely, entirely clear. The kind of look that did not require words.

The quadrille carried them through the next figure and Charlotte could not see Redmont from where she stood, but she did not need to. She had seen Henry’s face.

Whatever was between those two men, it was not finished.

Not even close.

CHAPTER 20

“Did you enjoy it?” Henry asked, and when Charlotte looked up from the toast she was buttering. Her expression was puzzled, so he added, “The ball.”

He was seated across from her at the breakfast table with the morning post at his elbow and the expression of a man who was asking casually but meant nothing of the sort.

“Enormously,” she said. “The dancing was lovely. The champagne was excellent. The supper was rather better than I expected.” She set down her cup. “Redmont was not.”

Henry put down his fork.

“You asked,” Charlotte said.

“I did.” He picked the fork back up. Set it down again. “He had no business approaching you in that corridor.”

“He had no business and no welcome, and I told him so. Rather clearly, I thought.”

“He should not have been there at all.”

“He was there, and I managed it, and the evening ended pleasantly.” She reached for the toast rack. “You, however, spent the last half of the quadrille looking as though you wished to challenge someone to a duel.”

“I was keeping a general awareness of the room.”

“You were keeping a very specific awareness of one particular corner of the room.” She buttered her toast with great composure. “For a man who married out of practicality, you looked remarkably jealous.”

Henry looked at her.

“I was not jealous.”

“Your jaw was jealous.”

“My jaw was—" He stopped. “That is not a sentence.”

“It is an accurate one.” She took a bite of her toast. “You went quite rigid every time he moved.”

“I was watching for trouble.”

“You were watching him look at me and you did not enjoy it in the slightest.” She tilted her head at him. “Which is entirely understandable. He is unpleasant. But you were not protecting me from a threat. You were simply— put out.”

“I was not put out.”

“You were considerably put out.”

“Charlotte.” He said her name with the particular weight of a man who has decided to end a line of inquiry by sheer authority. “I was ensuring the evening proceeded without incident.”

“By scowling at the Marquess of Redmont from across the room for forty minutes.”

“I was not—” He picked up his coffee then put it down. “It was twenty minutes.”

Charlotte looked at him. He stared at his coffee.

“Henry.”