Page 45 of A Scandalous Bargain
Except for this part. This wonderful, dazzling, beguiling dance. “You’re an excellent dancer,” she said, sounding—and feeling—rather breathless.
“And you’re, thankfully, better than I expected.” The twinkle in his eye made her laugh.
“You flatter me, my lord.” She batted her lashes, and he grinned, moving her in time to the music, their bodies gliding together as one.
She gave herself over so completely that she misstepped. “You spoke too soon,” she murmured, jerking herself into the proper position. The movement made her feel something against her thigh, something in the pocket of her gown.
Oh, God, she’d done it again.
Frustration and anger tore through her. When would she stop?Couldshe stop? Focusing on the last few hours, she vaguely recalled taking something earlier—a bracelet with a single pearl. Perhaps she could return it. Except she had no idea from whom she’d stolen it. She’d find a place to leave it later so that someone would find it.
She made another error, this time stepping on Tom’s foot.
“Does this mean you want to be rid of me too?” he asked with a hint of humor.
She should say yes. More than that, she shouldwantto be rid of him. She was going to disappoint him. If not tonight—and it was a miracle she hadn’t—then sometime. Perhaps soon. He would learn the truth about her because if she didn’t find a way to control her impulses, her shameful behavior would be exposed. Not only would she be cast out from Society and most certainly spurned by him after, she could very well find herself imprisoned.
The risk of stealing on purpose never bothered her. She was confident in her abilities and in her reasons for thieving. But this was different. When she took things without realizing, it was as if she were another person. A person she didn’t know.
The music built to a finish, and the dance ended.
Tom looked at her in question, his brow furrowed. “What happened there, at the end?”
“I was just thinking how lovely it was to dance with you. Because I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” Her throat tightened.
“You’ll come visit—we’ll sort it out.”
They could, probably, but she wouldn’t. She put her hand on his arm and gently pulled him away from the dance floor. “Tom, you shouldn’t trust me. I haven’t been completely honest with you…and I can’t be. I’m not asking you to understand.”
His brows were still knotted in confusion. “Good, because I don’t.”
She made sure no one was nearby and then spoke in a quiet tone. “I will disappoint you again. Just like I did tonight, only worse.” She hated the flash of confusion and dissatisfaction in his gaze, but there was nothing to be done for it. Not here, not now. Not ever.
She needed to get out of there before she completely broke down, something she hadn’t done in a very long time. It was far easier for her to be positive and enthusiastic. This sense of failure and dread was much, much harder.
“Goodbye, Tom,” she said for the second time that night. Taking her hand from his arm, she hurried away, heedless of where she was going. As she left the ballroom, she ran straight into the one person she really didn’t want to see: her half brother.
“There you are, Miss Whitford. I’ve been waiting for your dance to finish. Might I say you are better at the waltz than the quadrille? I will remember that in future.”
“Er, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She continued past him through the adjoining room where ballgoers were gathered with refreshments.
Unfortunately—and irritatingly—he went along with her. “I plan to call on you tomorrow. And I’ll be speaking with your brother later.”
Beatrix stopped short. She turned to face him, her eyes wide as anger overtook her earlier despair. She gave his sleeve a tug and jerked her head toward a doorway. Spinning about, she stalked into a smaller room.
He followed her, and once they were clear of the threshold, she turned. His lips curved into a pleasant smile. “Should we move somewhere a little more private?”
“What?” The word shot out of Beatrix’s mouth like a pistol firing.
He moved close to her, his lids drooping over his too-familiar hazel eyes. “We should find a more secluded location—to kiss.”
For a moment, Beatrix couldn’t speak. And during that moment, he leaned toward her. She put up her hands and pushed at his chest while taking a step back. “No. I don’t want to kiss you.”
His features crinkled into a state of utter bewilderment. “You don’t?”
She gaped at him. “Has no one told you no before?”
He seemed to ponder her question. “No? Not in this instance, because I’ve never attempted to kiss someone like you. But I’m generally well-liked by the fairer sex.”
