Page 38 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
His steps were slightly halting, and he paused a couple of times as if he couldn’t recall what came next, but that was to be expected, as she doubted he’d danced for many years. Ashe gained confidence, his dancing became smoother, and she was able to relax into it and enjoy his closeness without fear of tripping or being trod on.
Each time he drew near to her, she caught the faint scent of peppermint. It was quite pleasant. The heat from his body practically radiated out, and she knew that a flush must be rising on her own cheeks.
Her dress swished around her legs, and she was grateful she’d worn one of her new, more extravagant designs. From the way his eyes dipped down every now and then, she suspected that he liked the way it looked on her.
“People are staring,” he murmured, as if she could possibly not have noticed. She was aware of everything in this moment.
“Ignore them,” she whispered back. That was what she was trying to do. At this point, everyone in thetonknew they’d been caught on a balcony together and were eager to watch the drama unravel right before their eyes.
He grimaced and flubbed another step. “Easier said than done. I thought I knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of a scandal, but this is something else.”
She studied him, realizing that this was the first time he’d alluded to the rumors regarding his wife’s death. She supposed he would know how it felt to be the subject of gossip, although according to her mother, he’d hidden away since then, so he’d probably never experienced the full force of social ostracism.
There was a groove between his eyebrows and strain lines at the corners of his mouth that showed this was weighing on him. That in itself told her something about him. He wasn’t one to enjoy notoriety. Not that she’d thought otherwise, but one could never be certain until evidence was presented to the contrary.
She suspected that he was a kind man too. He was serious—there was no doubting that—but apart from that initialinteraction when he’d run from her, he’d been solicitous and honest but never unkind.
Frankly, he didn’t seem like the type of person who would murder his wife for failing to produce an heir. If he’d been seen carrying his wife’s bloody body soon after they’d been heard arguing, there must have been an explanation. Perhaps London’s gossips simply never shared that part because it would ruin a good story.
The dance ended, and he escorted her back to where Sophie waited, now with Lady Drake at her side. He thanked Kate for the dance, greeted Lady Drake, and turned to Sophie.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked her.
Sophie nodded and started to bounce toward him before apparently remembering her training and moving more gracefully instead. Kate’s chest squeezed as she released Lord Blackwell and watched him walk away with Sophie. She was pleased to note that they stood farther apart than she and he had. She trusted her friend not to do or say anything untoward, but she was feeling oddly possessive of the viscount.
“Have you made up your mind about him yet?” her mother asked, offering her a glass of lemonade.
Kate accepted the glass and sipped as she continued to watch Lord Blackwell and Sophie. “I’m beginning to think that getting caught on a balcony with him might not have been the worst thing that could have happened to me.”
“Really?” Lady Drake’s eyes gleamed with something Kate couldn’t identify. “You think you’ll accept his offer?”
“I’m considering it.” If she didn’t, their invitations would likely dry up. The other gentleman whose acquaintance she’d made at the Wembley ball, Mr. Adair, had failed to call on her, and she couldn’t imagine that any other men were likely to view her as a suitable match either. Especially when she only had amodest dowry as a result of the financial difficulties her family had experienced.
“What’s your opinion of him?” She valued her mother’s input, so if she had concerns, it would give Kate cause to reassess her initial thoughts.
Lady Drake set her empty glass down on a tray as a server walked past. “I expected someone with his reputation to be more hot-tempered. He hasn’t raised his voice once in my hearing, and I’m inclined to think that Andrew might be correct in saying that he is probably blameless in his wife’s death.”
Kate nodded. While she wasn’t certain of Lord Blackwell’s true disposition, she’d come to a similar conclusion.
“He seems a very somber sort,” Lady Drake mused. “He isn’t who I would’ve envisioned for you, but from what I can tell, his estate is well maintained and profitable, his finances are in good order, and Andrew hasn’t uncovered any dark secrets other than what we’re already aware of. You could do worse.”
Yes, she could, and Kate was beginning to think it likely shewoulddo worse if she didn’t accept him. If her choices were between men she’d already decided she wasn’t interested in—whichever lechers or title hunters might stoop to marrying a disgraced debutante—or him, then he was probably the best of the bunch.
“Brigid, Kate, it’s so lovely to see you.”
Both women turned toward the speaker, a pretty blond woman with deep blue eyes and a shy smile.
“Emma!” Kate exclaimed, automatically greeting Sophie’s older sister with a hug. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.”
Lady Emma Stanhope, the Duchess of Ashford, shuffled closer to get out of the way of a couple who were passing by. “Vaughan and I have an agreement to attend three balls each season. I love to dance, but he wishes he could avoid society entirely, so it’s a compromise that works for both of us.”
Kate looked around, searching for the dark imposing figure of the duke. “Where is His Grace?”
“He’s getting me a piece of cake,” Emma said, and Kate could hardly be surprised. Emma was the reason that Sophie had such a sweet tooth. Emma looked around, her lip curling disdainfully. “Ignore them all. I know it’s hard, but you should just do what’s best for you.”
It was on the tip of Kate’s tongue to ask whether that was what Emma had done, given they both knew she’d married someone she didn’t particularly want to marry in order to protect her family, but she adored Emma and didn’t want to make her friend uncomfortable, so she kept her mouth shut.
It did remind her, though, that both Emma and Amelia had married men they were uncertain of, and those marriages had worked out well for them. Both women loved their husbands, and their ridiculous husbands were completely besotted with them.
