There was something about him, the idea of dancing with him. Yes, he’d come to her rescue when no one else was able, but before that, before she’d even known his name, when she’d first noticed him at the Astwicks’, the intensity in his eyes and the strength of his jaw had captured her attention like nothing else ever had.
“Bella?” He squeezed her hand once more.
“Oh, yes, of course.” She smiled up at him, and when his serious expression softened a bit, her heart lifted. “Our dance.”
Greg led her out into the middle of the ballroom, completely unaware that her heart pounded out a rapid beat. He bowed before her, then pulled her into his arms.
Goodness! He was so strong, his shoulders and his hands, and was so close, his sandalwood scent surrounded her and she felt his breath brush against her cheek. A warm shiver raced through her and Bella was certain nothing else had ever felt so right in her life.
She nearly stumbled as Greg led her into their first turn. Though she righted herself before he noticed and she chastised herself for being a ninny. His interest in her was all pretend, and she hated that she needed to keep reminding herself of that fact.
“Sorry about them,” Greg apologized.
“Them?” She was so caught up in being held in his arms, she’d obviously missed something.
“My brother and his wife,” he clarified.
Oh, Lieutenant and Mrs. Avery? Bella had quite enjoyed meeting them. “They were charming. Besides, after subjecting you to my family this evening, I hardly think you need to apologize for anything.”
His green eyes held hers and his brow furrowed slightly. “You don’t seem terribly comfortable around them. Your own family, I mean.” He led her into another turn.
That was an understatement. Bella’s gaze dropped to his cravat, hoping he couldn’t see through her as easily as she suspected he might be able to. “I don’t know them very well, not most of them.” After Mama had run off, her aunts and uncles had distanced themselves from Papa, Elliott, Bella and Prissa as though the taint to their names was contagious.
“Then why did your father—”
“Insist upon that dinner?” Bella lifted her gaze once more to meet Greg’s. “I suspect he invited everyone so that our betrothal would be set in stone, so to speak. An attempt to keep Grandfather from doing anything to change the situation. If everyone believes we’re to marry…”
“Ah,” Greg said with a nod. “I wouldn’t have guessed Aylesford was so crafty. Though I suppose, he’s probably developed a number of ways to navigate around your grandfather over the years.”
Papa had never been called crafty by anyone, at least not as far as Bella knew. The suggestion was more than amusing, but she kept herself from giggling. She was too nervous to do so. “After tonight…”
“After tonight?” he prodded.
“Will I see you again?” She supposed she’d see him at some point, she would have to formally end their betrothal, after all. But she hoped, foolishly, that she would have the chance to know him. Despite his protestations otherwise, Bella was quite certain Greg was a hero of mythological proportions.
Greg frowned slightly as he looked past her shoulder. “With your grandfather’s suspicions and Sarsden’s too, I’d imagine, we probably should make plans. Selling our betrothal may take more than just tonight.”
And though her heart shouldn’t flutter at that, Bella couldn’t help that it did. “I was hoping,” she continued, “that you might…” Oh, heavens, if she said that, he’d think her as strange as Grandfather did.
“You don’t have to have any secrets from me,” Greg said. “We are in this together.”
Bella’s cheeks warmed. “Well, I’ve already asked so much of you.”
“Well, now you must tell me. My interest is more than piqued. What do you want of me, Bella?”
“I think I’d like to paint you,” she blurted out.
“Paint me?” His brow lifted in surprise.
“To thank you,” she continued. “For all that you’re doing for me. I could paint your portrait in return.” And perhaps a smaller version to keep for herself too, something to remember him by, her mythological hero.
Greg’s green eyes twinkled beneath the chandelier lights. “Bella Winslett, you are unlike any girl I’ve ever met.”
Oh, goodness! He did think she was odd. She should never have said anything. “I apologize. I only…”
“Why in the world would you apologize for that?” he asked. “You’re delightful, Bella, completely delightful.”
He thought she was delightful? If she focused on that, she’d never make it through the rest of the waltz without floating right up off the floor, which he’d probably notice. “I’m just not sure how else to thank you.”