Page 12 of Reckless Desire

He knows.

For the second time that day, Byson’s mind screamed run! But he nodded and left his father staring after him as he strode to the stairs, then descended to the ballroom. He took the last step as the song ended, but realized that he couldn’t reach her before Wilshire returned her to the alcove where the pack of wolves waited.

***

Kenna couldn’t remember having danced so much in a single night. She wasn’t so vain as to believe that men lined up to dance with her in greater numbers here than back home because she was such a beauty. Nae. Her connection to Sir Stirling was the key to her sudden popularity. Six years ago, when she turned sixteen and attended her first dance, she would have been thrilled for such attention. Now, at twenty-three, the attention was tiresome. Not to mention, the din of the two-hundred guests made her ears ring.

She smiled up at Mister Barnes as he led her from the dance floor.

“You are an excellent dancer,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Might I fetch you something to drink?” he asked.

Kenna glanced at the alcove on the opposite side of the room. Crowded as the ballroom was, it would take them at least ten minutes to reach that haven. A table with champagne and lemonade sat against a nearby wall.

“That would be very nice,” she said. “Champagne, please?”

He beamed and started them toward the table. Kenna caught sight of Lady Phoebe and prayed she didn’t encounter the woman. After this morning’s exchange, she wasn’t sure what to say to her. When they reached the refreshments, Mister Barnes handed her a glass of champagne. Kenna sipped the cool, bubbly liquid. She did like champagne very much.

Mister Barnes stared into his own champagne glass. “I wonder, Miss Ramsay, if it is not too forward, if you—that is, if you would be amenable—”

Oh no. Kenna groaned inwardly. He was going to ask if she would allow him to call on her. How could she refuse without hurting him?

He lifted his eyes to her face. “What I mean to say is, it would be an honor—”

“There you are, Miss Ramsay.”

Kenna jerked at the sound of the familiar voice. Lord Newhall stepped up beside them.

“Please, do not say you forgot that this is my dance?” he said.

She blinked in surprise.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” Mister Barnes said. “The lady and I are in the middle of a private conversation.”

Lord Newhall’s gaze remained on her. “I hope I am not interrupting anything of importance.” He winked.

He winked?

“I have waited quite some time for my dance.” He shifted his gaze to the young man. “I feel certain you understand how frustrating that can be.”

Mister Barnes’ mouth thinned.

Lord Newhall didn’t wait for an answer. He took the glass of champagne from her hand and set it on the table. “I believe the orchestra is about to play a minuet. Shall we, Miss Ramsay?” He cupped her elbow and began walking.

Minuet? Her heart fell. She was about to embarrass herself in front of this man for the second time in one day.

“I-I cannot—”

“One moment, Miss Ramsay,” he whispered.

She frowned. “What?”

He guided them around a group of women, then said, “You cannot what?”

“What?” Lord, she sounded like a goose. “I cannot dance the minuet.”