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He frowned. “What happened to Nicky?”
That ghost of a smile that she seemed to give him frequently this evening appeared again. “Adulthood happened to Nicky, Your Grace.”
Every time she addressed him formally, it felt as though his insides were being scraped. “At least call me Nicholas.”
“Fine.”
As they approached the dance floor, he noticed the couples lining up for a quadrille. The whole reason why he’d asked her to dance was to speak with her about what she’d overheard. That would be nearly impossible in a quadrille.
“It’s a quadrille,” he said flatly.
“Yes. Is something wrong with it?” She raised a fine, tawny brow.
“I thought we would be waltzing.”
She laughed. “You ask me to dance without even knowing which dance it is. Now, why am I not surprised?” She stepped forward, forcing him to follow. “If you don’t know the steps, I would happily guide you.”
“We’ve danced the quadrille so many times, Jenny.” He threw her a questioning glance. Just what was she up to?
“Oh? I can’t seem to remember.” She smiled, giving him a glimpse of the Jenny he had known.
Ah, she wanted to evoke guilt within him. Well, he was already feeling guilty, and for a number of things too.
They took their place beside a couple and she smiled again, making him recall how much she loved to dance. He was pleased she had not changed in that aspect.
“I hope the evening is treating you well,” he said when they began to dance.
“Are you seriously asking me this question, Nicholas?” Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“I was trying to open a conversation.” He almost cursed when they were separated at that moment.
“We meet again, Lady Jenny,” Sir Phineas, that dandy decked in a ridiculous-looking maroon coat and a gold embroidered waistcoat, called out to Jenny when she moved to the front formation. “I believe the evening is yet to have enough of us together,” he added.
The lilt of her laugh rose above the music. “I agree with you,” she said, showing the man a side of her that she was refusing to show to him. An uncomfortable feeling washed over him as he watched the ease with which they slipped into conversation. He didn’t like it.
When she returned to him, he cleared his throat and said, “I was hoping we could talk.”
“I am all ears,” she replied distractedly. She was already flushed from dancing and the color tantalized his senses.
His eyes moved to the scattering of freckles on her chest and he sucked in his breath as he beheld the shadow of her cleavage. Something in his loins began to stir and he immediately looked away.
God! What was happening to him? The dance formation was changed again and she moved away from him, landing in Sir Phineas’ arms again. He was relieved that she was no longer in front of him and tempting him, but her being with that man annoyed him.
“You look annoyed. Are you not pleased with the dance?” she asked when she returned to him.
“I thought it was the waltz.”
“Next time you’re hosting a ball, be sure to learn your dance program,” she teased him, sounding more like her former self. The dance was doing her spirits a great deal of good.
“My grandmother is hosting the ball.”
“In your honor,” she inserted.
However much he tried to keep his eyes on her face, they betrayed him and wandered back down to her bosom. When had she grown into such a lovely creature? He swallowed, imagining the way she would feel in his arms, imagining the soft mewls that would escape her lips when he placed his lips to the soft skin of her neck.
“Nicholas?”
He blinked. The dance had come to an end without him knowing. This was not right. He should never have such thoughts about Jenny.
