Page 86 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
She snorted. “You have a slight reputation, but nothing particularly scandalous. If you did, do you think I’d have married you?”
“Shh. Let me pretend that my wife believes me to be a rogue,” he teased.
The music began to play, and he swept her around the dance floor, expertly navigating around the other dancers. He kept his hand at a perfectly appropriate height, although he may have been holding her slightly closer than necessary. Surely no one could begrudge him that. She was his wife, and he wanted her near.
As he turned her, a flash of red silk on the opposite side of the ballroom caught his eye. He sought it out, curious who had been bold enough to wear such a daring color, but when he found her, his stomach hardened.
Florence.
“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked.
He looked down at her, caught off guard. “What?”
“You look like you saw a ghost.” She frowned. “Is it your mother? Did something happen?”
She craned her neck, searching for Lady Drake.
“N-no, nothing like that,” Andrew assured her. “I just felt dizzy for a moment. It passed, and I’m fine now.”
That was a lie. He didn’t think he’d be all right until he’d ensured that Amelia’s and Florence’s paths would not cross again.He’d assumed they’d be safe at society events, but he’d forgotten that Florence did have legitimate connections to the ton on her mother’s side, even if her father had never claimed her.
He considered how to get Amelia out of here quickly. They’d only just arrived. If he tried to leave, she’d question him. He could ask Florence to leave, but he doubted she’d do so. At least, not without making a fuss.
The fact that she was here after he’d told her that everything was over between them filled him with dread. She thrived on drama, and with her reputation being what it was, any trouble she caused would reflect more on him than her because he had more to lose.
The dance ended, and relieved, he led Amelia back to Lady Drake.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’m going to fetch us some drinks.”
“Do you need help?” Amelia asked.
“No. But thank you for the offer.”
He wove between people to the drinks table and collected a glass of champagne in each hand. He’d prefer brandy, but that wasn’t an option tonight.
“Lord Longley.”
Damn.
His chest tight, he turned toward the speaker. “Miss Giles.”
Florence pouted her rouged lips. “Dance with me?”
“No.” He wasn’t playing her games tonight.
She cocked her head. “Not for nostalgia’s sake?”
“I said no.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, you did. The problem is, I’m the one who decides when things are over, not you. So now I’m giving you a choice. Dance with me, or I’ll create such a scene that your little mouse will never dare show her face in the ton again.”
He stared at her, astounded. “Why are you doing this?”
It couldn’t be because of any tender feeling she had toward him. She’d been a good companion, but they had always been clear that no deeper emotions were involved.
She raised her chin. “I told you. I’m supposed to be the one who ends affairs. You took that away from me.”
Andrew glanced back toward his mother and Amelia. He didn’t have a good view of them from here, so hopefully they hadn’t noticed who he was talking to.
