“And how are you this evening?” Joan asked, her expression curious and still slightly suspicious.
It was nothing less than what was his due.
“I’m well, but I shall be decidedly better if you allow me a dance, Lady Joan,” he requested, flirting boldly.
Joan’s expression softened. “It would be an honor, Your Grace.” She offered her dance card, and he quickly selected two, not caring that would likely lead to talk.
Let them talk, speculate, and gossip.
Tomorrow he’d be talking with her brother about securing her hand. Until then, let the others assume all they liked.
“And you, of course, Miss Bronson,” Rowles offered. At her pleased nod, he selected the cotillion for his dance with her. “May I offer either of you lemonade, or something else to drink?” he asked.
Joan covered her mouth with her gloved hand, as if the pleasure in her expression was too much for polite society. “Yes, indeed. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Miss Bronson replied, “Yes, thank you, Your Grace.”
Rowles turned and made his way to the refreshment table, selecting two glasses before returning. As he handed the glass cups to the ladies, the quadrille’s music began to play.
“Ah, Lady Joan, I do believe this is our first dance.” He offered his hand.
Joan handed her cup to Miss Bronson and took his offered hand as he led them to the dance floor.
Grasping her hand, he swung them in a turn and released her, switching partners with the couple beside them. Belatedly, he noted they were partnered with Lord Archby and a young lady he’d not yet met. Archby beamed at Joan, familiar and warm. Rowles’s chest tightened with jealousy, but he tamped down his rather uncivilized emotion and as Joan returned to him, he pulled her in slightly closer for their turn, earning a dancing look from her, one that held a hint of daring and understanding.
She took another turn with Treyson, and Rowles danced the steps with Treyson’s partner, and they all repeated the steps. Each time Joan returned to his arms, Rowles’s chest released its tension.
Never before had he experienced jealousy of such force.
When the quadrille ended, he bowed to Joan and was about to escort her off the dance floor when they were interrupted.
“Ah, Lady Joan, I believe this is my dance?” Archby bowed and offered his hand as a country dance started up.
“Indeed,” she answered, then turned to Rowles. “Thank you,” she said softly, her expression warm and inviting.
He released her to Archby and took a place on the edge of the ballroom. He knew that eyes were on him, watching for his reaction or lack thereof, so he engaged Lord Brookmoor in conversation until the song ended.
As luck would have it, rather than finding a reason to engage Joan in conversation once more, it was the cotillion’s music that began. He sought out Miss Bronson and engaged her for his requested dance. Grasping her hand, he led her to the dance floor and bowed. She offered him a reserved expression as they circled up with the other couples and danced in the opening circle of the cotillion.
As they moved in the circle, he searched for Joan. Finding her standing beside her brother, he returned his attention to the dance. Turning to spin with Miss Bronson, when he faced the direction where Joan stood, he studied her again. The distance between her and her brother wasn’t obvious, unless one knew them well. Their bodies were angled away, even though they stood close, as if neither one were inclined to speak to the other.
The ladies circled up in a pinwheel movement in the middle, and Rowles grasped Lady Greerheart’s hand and turned with her, then took a turn with Miss Lynn. Returning his attention to Miss Bronson as they started the next movement, he caught her curious expression. “Distracted, Your Grace?”
He regarded her and answered softly, “My apologies.”
Her lips pursed in an amused smirk.
As the dance continued, Rowles kept his attention more disciplined and on his partner rather than allowing his focus to wander in Joan’s direction. If Miss Bronson noticed his distraction, then others would too. Talk surrounding his interest in Joan was acceptable; for thetonto call him desperate was entirely another matter.
He bowed to Miss Bronson as the dance ended and escorted her back to Joan’s side.
Morgan turned toward them as they approached.
“Lord Penderdale.” Miss Bronson curtsied and offered a flirtatious smile.
“Miss Bronson.” Morgan nodded, then turned his attention from her to Rowles.
“Thank you for the dance, Miss Bronson,” Rowles offered, then gave an encouraging smile to Morgan.