Page 45
“We both know that kindness isn’t something the ton celebrates.”
“Perhaps it ought to.”
He scoffed and replied more quietly. “It ought to do many things, including judging a man based on his merits rather than anything as random as an accident of birth, but even the best among us fall prey to the allure of bloodlines.”
“I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”
He shrugged. “You’ve chosen a title even though I expected better of you. I thought you might choose someone more like yourself.” His lips twisted sardonically. “Someone with your skill at putting on a show to entertain them.”
“I don’t know what you—”
“Don’t argue. I see through you.” His gaze drifted back to the dance floor. “You calculate every move you make, and that man will never be on your level. He may be titled, but he isn’t your equal.”
Someone gasped, and she turned back to the dance floor, her heart still in her throat as Trevor lost his balance, stumbled, bumped into another dancer, and started a domino effect that resulted in one young lady ending up on the floor, her skirt pooled around her body, her face a flaming red as she looked around for someone to blame.
Trevor froze.
Seraphina grabbed Lady Wembley’s arm. “We need to get him.”
If they didn’t, then either the young lady would realize that Trevor had started the chain of events that ended with her embarrassment, or Trevor himself would panic, and who knew what might happen then?
They rushed to him, each taking one of his arms as he stared at the young lady, his mouth moving in a silent apology.
“Time for us to go,” she murmured, tugging on him.
He followed them, docile as a lamb, and the crowd parted to allow them through. Seconds later, the cool air seemed to reawaken Trevor, and he buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” he begged.
“It did, but it wasn’t your fault,” Seraphina replied as they waved over their carriage and clambered inside. Her emotions were a roiling, writhing mass, and she couldn’t tell whether she was more sorry for the distress she’d caused Trevor or livid at Mr. Emerson for being such a massive… enormous… cad.
There must be a better word to describe him, but she, unfortunately, didn’t know it. He thought they were the same, but she was nothing like him. She’d never be so casually cruel.
Trevor rocked back and forth on the bench, his fingers tapping on his thighs over and over. “I didn’t know the steps of the dance. I tripped. I bumped someone. And in the end, that poor woman got knocked over. I fail to see how that could possibly be anyone’s fault other than my own.”
Seraphina’s chest tightened, and her heart felt heavy. All Trevor had tried to do was make her life better, and now he was paying for it.
“Mr. Emerson set it all up. I don’t know how, but I’m certain that he did. He targeted you because he’s upset at being denied my hand in marriage, and I’m heartily sorry that he took it out on you instead of me.”
It was heartless of him to go after Trevor. Seraphina could take care of herself and knew how to handle the type of sneaky tactics Mr. Emerson might employ, but Trevor was far too straightforward and open to expect anyone else to behave in such a way. He was less experienced at navigating turbulent social waters, and it said a lot about who Mr. Emerson was as a man that he would strike out at a less prepared victim.
“It is my fault.” His tone was laced with bitterness. “I should know how to deal with such situations—Lord knows I had the same schooling as the likes of him. I’m the one who’s sorry. I humiliated you tonight with my ineptness, and I’m bound to do it again in future. I can’t be what you want in a fiancé, and I’ll understand if you want to call off the betrothal.”
Seraphina’s stomach dropped. “I beg your pardon?”
She couldn’t lose him. Not when she had finally begun to hope that her future might not be as dire as she had always imagined. He wouldn’t do that to her, would he?
CHAPTER 16
Trevor felt as if he might burst out of his skin like an overstuffed sausage. Everything was tight and uncomfortable, and his guts rolled in a way that made him worry he might throw up.
“I let you down tonight,” he gritted out, hardly able to force himself to speak the words. “I demonstrated a complete lack of ability to adhere to society’s expectations for proper behavior, and I made it apparent that I can’t dance more than the most simple steps. Why would you want a husband who cannot be your equal in understanding social mores?”
The rhythmic tapping of his fingertips against his thighs was the only thing grounding him in the moment as he held his breath, both dreading her response and needing it to be over quickly. The last thing he wanted was for her to call off the engagement, but he had to at least give her the option to extricate herself gracefully.
As he waited for her to say something, he was torn between the urge to wave his arms, jump up and down, and shout his frustration, and the equally strong urge to curl into a tiny ball and try to disappear.
“I don’t want to call off our betrothal,” Seraphina said softly but firmly. “You haven’t let me down, and I’m sure your mother feels the same way.”
“I do.” Lady Wembley’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “I’ll always be proud of you.”
