Page 11 of The Lady Knows Best

Unlike, say, Greek, which he’d long suspected was not a language at all, but an elaborate swindle played on unsuspecting schoolboys. A jumble of signs he couldn’t sort into meaning. Frustrating. Unreadable.

Daphne Burke was Greek.

Well, Irish, actually. The Dublin-born daughter of a solicitor. That much he knew, thanks to the list of every marginally eligible miss with which Alistair had supplied him earlier that afternoon.

She was not the sort of woman to whom Miles would ordinarily give a second glance. Neither the arrangement of her brown hair nor the white dress she wore suited her. She was a wallflower, and that was precisely why he’d asked her to dance, hoping to rub a bit of tarnish off his reputation.

But here, beneath the stars, her skin was soft, luminous. And now that he was standing close enough to see the glitter in her eyes, the defiant tilt of her chin, he had the feeling she might have been deliberately disguising herself among those pallid blooms, a sort of camouflage to ward off potential suitors. Almost as if she had been trying to pass through the Season unnoticed. Almost as if there were something she hoped to hide....

If that were true, it would explain why she obviously had not wanted to dance with him.

But what had made her change her mind?

His tumbling thoughts made his steps slow.

“If I didn’t know better, my lord, I’d think you regretted your invitation,” said Miss Burke on the edge of the ballroom. The roundness of her vowels only just softened the edges of an otherwise governess-y sort of voice.

“I only wished to give you another chance to refuse, ma’am. In case you’d thought better of being seen with me.”

She freed her fingers from his grip—he’d kept his touch light on purpose.

What would she do next? What did he want her to do?

She slid her hand through the crook of his elbow and curled her fingers around his forearm.

Why in God’s name did his pulse began to race?

He laid his hand over hers, securing her there. “Is it possible, Miss Burke, you are unaware of my reputation?”

“No, my lord.” A blaze of light washed over her, and for the first time, he could see her eyes. Gray, with just a hint of blue. She looked up at him as if oblivious to the fact that a hundred people had turned to look at her. A hundred people who could not see the cold steel in her gaze. “But I’m quite sure you’re unaware of mine.”

Ah.

With a smile and a dip of his head, he led her to her place in a nearby set. He didn’t yet know the strength of her blade, whether she meant merely to wound or to eviscerate him. He’d never dueled a lady before. At least, not while standing.

And God help him, he was . . . intrigued.

Heedless of the other dancers, he took his position opposite. The couple they’d displaced shifted lower in the line.

“Do—do people just make way for you, wherever you wish to go?” she demanded in an indignant whisper as she curtsied.

He bowed. “Generally, yes.”

Oh, but her eyes sparked delightfully at that. She could not make up her mind whether she envied him that power or despised him for using it.

“I suppose that explains why you’re here tonight. You assumed Miss Grey would stay at home rather than dare to threaten your enjoyment of the evening.”

It was true that he hadn’t expected to see Arabella Grey in attendance at the Clearwaters’ ball. He supposed her damnable father had insisted upon it; the man wouldn’t have wanted his daughter to waste a new gown, or a fresh opportunity.

When Miles had heard her cry of outrage upon his arrival, he had considered leaving, rather than cause her further embarrassment. After a moment, though, he’d thought better of it. The crowd had been prepared to see the worst in him. It was easier to give people what they wanted, what they expected, and Miles liked to keep things easy.

But something about the twinkle of defiance in Miss Burke’s eyes inspired him.

“Tell me, if I had turned tail and run, what would have been the result?”

The figure of the dance divided them into separate foursomes, allowing her ample time to consider her answer. As soon as they were together again, however, he spoke before she could.

“Miss Grey alone would have borne the brunt of every stare, every whispered speculation. By staying, I ensured all those sneers of contempt and narrow-eyed glares would be directed at me.”