Page 121 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Her heart beat a rapid rhythm. “I’d like that.”
“I know.”
She was about to open her mouth to protest being called predictable, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips.
“You’re always so eager to discover new places,” he continued. “Your fascination with the world around you is one of the things I love about you.”
She softened. “Well, I love your kindness and generosity of spirit.”
For a long moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes. Then Andrew jerked his thumb toward the door.
“Do you really want to spend the evening at our ball?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “No. I never particularly liked balls, and especially not after what just happened. They’re bound to be gossiping already. But my parents are there, and so is your mother. Not to mention half the ton. We can’t just leave.”
“Can’t we?” His eyes gleamed. “It’s our ball. That means we get to make all the decisions. I say we hand off host duties to my mother—or to yours, who’d no doubt be thrilled withthe responsibility—and then retreat to the bedchamber and celebrate properly.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. His offer was so tempting, but surely it would be wrong to go along with it when this ball was supposed to be their social salvation.
“I want to,” she admitted, leaning closer and breathing him in. “But it would be irresponsible.”
“So be irresponsible,” he whispered in her ear. “You and I have made too many decisions for the sake of others. This time, let’s be selfish.”
She drew back, looking up at him. Excitement simmered in her gut. “Really?”
He nodded, his expression serious despite the sparkle in his eyes. “Really.”
She inhaled deeply. “Let’s.”
He kissed the top of her head and threaded his fingers through hers. “If we talk to my mother right now, we can escape again in only a few minutes. Don’t make eye contact with anyone or stop if they call your name. We’re on a mission. All right?”
She giggled, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “I have tunnel vision. I will see and hear no one but your mother.”
“Excellent.”
Hand in hand, they strolled out of the office. Neither the duke nor Miss Giles were in the foyer, so Amelia assumed that she’d already left and he had returned to the ballroom.
As soon as they reached the doorway, a hush descended on the guests. The music kept playing, and the dancers continued dancing, but all the other guests’ eyes were on them.
Amelia shivered. It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation—especially not when she doubted they were thinking anything kind. But she held her chin high, kept her hand intertwined with Andrew’s, and searched the gathering for Lady Drake.
“To the left of the dancers,” she murmured. “Standing with the duke.”
“I see her,” he replied. “Don’t forget what I said.”
“I won’t.”
The crowd parted as they entered the room. Amelia heard someone say her name, but she didn’t acknowledge them. A gentleman in a pink-and-gold waistcoat stepped in front of them, but Andrew whisked her around him. As they arrived at Lady Drake’s side, the hush abated, and conversation rippled through the room.
“Mother.” Andrew leaned close so no one could overhear them. “Would you consider acting as hostess in our stead while Amelia and I retire? It’s been a particularly trying evening. You’re welcome to pass on the duty to Mr. and Mrs. Hart, if you’d prefer.”
Lady Drake glanced between them, her brows furrowed, her concern obvious. “Are you all right?”
His grip on her hand tightened. “We will be.”
She nodded. “Good. I would be happy to stand in your stead, and I’m sure the Harts will be amenable to helping.”
They’d better be,Amelia thought,considering Mother was the one who wanted this ball to begin with.
