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Her eyes widened. “I—I suppose you might be right.” She looked down, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears. “I did not consider the cost of my silence. For that, I am truly regretful.”
Bloody hell. He was not in the business of making young ladies weep unless it was from sheer overabundance of pleasure. I’ve certainly given her none of that. The only thing he’d given her was the rough side of his tongue. He’d all but skewered her for no better reason than to appease his own malcontent.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took another bite of crow. “Miss Lowther, I must again ask your forgiveness. I’m the one in error, not you.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I find myself apologizing to you with alarming frequency. Please allow me to make amends. Though I displace yet another name on your card, I beg this dance.” Holding out his hand, he waited.
After a long, agonizing moment, she took it.
Again, the contact resulted in an insistent tug at his vitals. Moving opposite her to wait for the dance to begin, he looked at the woman he’d managed to so thoroughly alienate. She was a lovely thing with well-defined features that were pleasingly delicate—save for her lips. Hers was a brandy mouth, lush and full, promising both sweetness and sin. “I hope your thwarted partner does not challenge me.”
Her lips quirked. “It is far more likely my stepmother will see us and scold me most assiduously on the way home tonight. You are one of several gentlemen I was instructed to avoid.”
“I see.” He didn’t bother concealing his doubt. She played a coquette’s game by suggesting her guardian would object to him. Forbidden fruit was always the more desirable. “And yet here we are. Have you always been so rebellious?”
“Rebellious? I am the soul of filial obedience.” Beside her mouth a dimple flickered, belying the prim answer. “If questioned, I’ll tell her the truth—that you insisted on partnering me.”
The music began to play, and together they moved, matching their steps to its cadence.
Not since his first country dance had Percy felt so off-kilter with a woman. Though the touch of her fingers against his palm was featherlight, it seared his flesh. Her willowy waist swayed as she made the turn, indicating the presence of only the lightest corset beneath the silk of her gown. How would that delicious curve feel freed of all restraint? Her bosom was glorious, a temptation he longed to answer.
No wonder Wells was bitter. She was exquisite.
Looking up, he stared into laughing eyes the exact color of a cloudless summer sky. Slowly, they darkened to evening shade. His loins tightened. Only two things did that to a woman’s eyes. Anger was one. Desire was the other. Which was she experiencing now? Hope whispered the latter. He watched as her attention was drawn to something just over his shoulder. The heat in her gaze cooled to detachment. That simply would not do. “Miss Lowther, I have no desire to again provoke your wrath, but I must ask one more question of you.”
Instantly, her gaze flicked up to meet his as he guided her to the left to avoid colliding with another couple. “Ask.”
“Do you, in fact, ever intend to marry?”
One honey-gold brow lifted. “Does not every unwed female under the age of thirty?”
“Not necessarily.” He narrowed the gap between them and lowered his voice. “Some women have no desire for a husband.”
Her chin rose, and she stiffened. “What exactly are you implying?”
Bollocks. “I meant no disrespect.”
“Then pray explain yourself.”
Cursing his poor choice of words, he pulled her out of the dance pattern and led her to a less crowded area. “Many women—women of good family and impeccable reputation—are simply unsuited for the institution of marriage. My own cousin is such a one.”
For a moment, a frown marred the space between her brows. “Your cousin?”
“Yes. Her name is Lucinda.” It was uncouth to air family disagreements to a stranger, doubly so in public, but he had little choice now he’d opened the door. “Her mother tried to arrange a marriage earlier this year, but Lucy was against the match. The moment I learned why, I went to the man and broke the betrothal on my cousin’s behalf.”
Wide blue eyes regarded him with incredulity. “You severed their agreement?”
“Is it an agreement when one party has not agreed to it? I paid the man a handsome sum to accept her refusal in a quiet, gentlemanly manner. I then backed my offer with a threat to put a hole in his jacket no tailor could mend if he did not do so.” He couldn’t help laughing at the way her eyebrows shot up.
“What of her family?”
“My aunt swore never to forgive me and disowned Lucy, convinced she persuaded me to help her shirk her ‘familial duty.’ Lucy is but fifteen.”
A tiny gasp broke from Eden’s lips. “The poor thing! What will she do?”
“She intends to marry the church. I’ve made her my ward until she’s old enough to take vows. So you see, not all females possess the inclination to marry.”
“She’s only fifteen. That’s hardly old enough to make such a—”
“I’ve known Lucy her entire life, and I’m confident her choice is the right one.” He waited for her to again object, but she declined to do so. “She has chosen to live quietly in the country until she’s of age. I support her decision.”
