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“I wished to speak with you but didn’t want to draw undue attention to any association between us, since we just went driving yesterday. As you said, if we aren’t careful, we’ll have all the tongues wagging.”
“Then why did you come to my house?”
“Did Lady Vigilia not tell you?” He hid his half-truth in a question. The girl surprised him with a small laugh.
“I guess I owe Vicky an apology. I didn’t actually believe her. Or rather, I didn’t believe what you told her. So, I suppose it’s you I ought to apologize to.”
James smiled down at her averted face. “No apology necessary. You aren’t completely wrong, actually. It wasn’t until I was shown into your very full reception rooms that I realized the extent of the potential gossip.” He shrugged slightly. “Besides, my sister really is coming, and I could use some help entertaining her.”
Rosabel’s smile was a sight to behold even if it was brief.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her.” There was a slight pause as they executed a turn of the room. “You said you did wish to speak with me,” she reminded him softly. “Was it general conversation you were looking for or something specific you wished to discuss, other than your sister’s imminent arrival?”
While James was pleased that she had presented him with the opportunity he was looking for, in that moment, he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with the chance he had been given. He shook off the unusual indecision.
“I actually wanted to ask you about something that happened last night.”
From the slight wrinkle in her forehead and the tilt of her head, he knew he had her full attention. In that moment, he knew her for an intelligent young woman, and a part of him wanted to confide in her and seek her council. It was a strange, alluring impulse that he quickly squashed. Dukes did not confide in debutantes.
“I was in conversation with Lord Prescott while you were dancing with that newly inherited viscount from Shropshire. Despite being on the dance floor, seemingly occupied with the dance, you appeared to be very concerned with my conversation. Why was that?”
He was fascinated by the wave of pink that filled her cheeks and followed immediately by her face turning so white he wondered if she might faint. James actually grew concerned and tightened his grasp on her hand, instinctively pulling her closer for a moment before sense and propriety called him to task. For the first time since he’d known her, she suddenly appeared awkward.
“Can a lady not watch a handsome man without it becoming a national trust issue, Your Grace? I do not understand the purpose of your question.”
His eyes narrowed on her face. Was she trying to say that’s what it was? He couldn’t say he believed her. While he was aware some ladies thought he was handsome, Wexford was also aware that he was not the sort that young women stared at longingly. He also was fairly certain that her attention had not been of that sort anyway. But how was he to press for the information he sought? This had perhaps not been his best thought out stratagem. Had he actually thought she would reveal all her secrets if he but asked? This woman was making him daft.
∞∞∞
Rosabel felt as though her face had frozen. Since she couldn’t tell which expression it was stuck in, she only hoped she wasn’t grimacing at Wexford for all thetonto see. That would set tongues to wagging for sure. But how was she to answer the man’s questions? She hoped she could brazen it out with saying she merely enjoyed looking at him. It certainly wasn’t a lie. His looks were very appealing to her. It felt as though her eyes were drawn to him like bees to a flower. She knew he wasn’t considered by others to be the most handsome nobleman, which was beyond short-sighted in her opinion. His face fascinated her. The contours and angles were arresting. His intelligent gaze conveyed his interest in his surroundings. And the greyish blue of his eyes reminded her of the sea before a storm. Perhaps she was about to face a storm from the nobleman, too. He didn’t appear convinced that she might have just been enjoying watching him. Did he not realize how attractive he was?
After a brief moment of panic, which may have only been seconds but felt like years, Rosabel was able to get her face to relax enough to offer him a slight smile as she lifted her eyebrows at him. She managed not to blather at him as she felt like doing. Her instinctive reaction was to try to talk her way out of the situation but with a firm grip on her self-control, she managed to continue following his lead in the dance and maintain her silence. It was hard for her to believe that the watchful, astute duke would put her on the spot in this way.
Rosabel finally felt as though she were once again in full control of herself. She could feel as her muscles unclenched themselves. It amazed her that she had managed not to trip over her feet in that tense state, even as she blew a slight breath of relief that she hadn’t blurted out any of her secrets as had been her immediate reaction when he’d asked his probing question.
What was it about Wexford that both relaxed and stressed her?
Part of her felt remarkably inclined to confide in the man. It was the strangest sensation. Especially when one considered the fact that it was the very fact of him talking with Lord Prescott that had started this fiasco. The very reason she was so able to control her reactions. The irony was not lost on her.
Bel wanted to pretend this conversation wasn’t happening or hadn’t happened, but she doubted Wexford would so easily drop the subject. He wasn’t the sort to idly bring up a strange topic. Especially not when he had mentioned specifically wishing to speak to her on the matter. It would appear far more suspicious if she tried to ignore it.
“Why did you ask? What made you think there was something out of the ordinary about my looking at you? Surely you are accustomed to being observed.”
Rosabel was proud of the almost disinterested tone of her voice. She never would have thought that she had such a skill for dissembling. But then again, she had learned her lessons well two years ago.
She couldn’t be sure what Wexford was thinking, as she couldn’t bring her gaze above his chin. Even his chin was attractive, but it wasn’t nearly as distracting as his eyes or mouth. A slight shiver made its way down her spine as she thought of his mouth, even as she kept her gaze averted. It was hard to discern how much time had passed. It felt like an age but might not have been more than a few seconds. The duke’s tight grasp on her hands seemed to loosen, and she wondered if he too had been tense. Not that she minded his tight grasp. Despite everything, it gave her a sense of security, which was at odds with how nervous she felt.
“I have reason to believe you are lying to me, Lady Rosabel.”
His low voice sent a thrill through her before his words registered and her eyes widened, even though she had the presence of mind to keep the rest of her face neutral.
“That’s rather rude of you, Your Grace,” she replied in a bland voice. Rosabel was pleased to see his lips twitch, but he didn’t retract his statement.
They had arrived at an impasse. It didn’t appear as though he were going to elaborate on his question. And she certainly wasn’t going to be honest with him in answer to his question. She could never tell anyone what had happened with Prescott. And the fact that Wexford was in association with the cad lowered his worth in her mind. Realizing that made it easier to lift her chin and meet his gaze without flinching.
Rosabel wondered how they managed to avoid knocking into any other couples on the dance floor as their eyes remained locked in what felt like a battle of wills. Wexford was clearly a skilled dancer. Neither of them missed a single step. Knowing she was about to make a spectacle of herself if she didn’t do something about the deadlock, Bel managed to wrench her gaze away from his.
Her arms broke out in gooseflesh. She hoped he didn’t notice, but she wouldn’t allow her gaze to return to his to gauge his reaction. It mattered little if he noticed or not, she wasn’t willing to explain that any more than she was about Prescott.
