Page 32 of Oddity of the Ton
“I prefer not to dance,” Eleanor said. “I mean—I wish Iwantedto dance, but the only time I did, I trod on my partner’s toe.”
“Perhaps your partner placed his toe in the wrong place.”
“Jeanette!” the dowager cried.
“Please excuse me.” The duchess returned to the pianoforte, while the couples accumulated in the center of the room.
Then the terrace doors opened, and…heappeared.
Eleanor’s heart somersaulted in her chest as he swept his cold blue gaze about the room before settling on Lady Arabella Ponsford, who stood, head upright, exuding confidence as she made a show of fanning herself.
“Montague!” a sharp voice said. Whitcombe’s mother approached him and took his elbow. She hissed something inhis ear, and his eyes darkened until they were almost black. She seemed to be admonishing him while gesturing toward Lady Arabella. He shook his head and gave a sharp response.
The music started, and the couples began to dance. Disappointment soured Lady Arabella’s expression, then Westbury approached her and offered his hand, and they joined the dance.
Whitcombe and his mother continued to argue until he let out an exclamation.
Then he strode across the room, cutting through the dance. The couples dispersed with cries of protest, but Whitcombe ignored them and continued his path in quick, powerful strides. Fear rippled through Eleanor as she realized he was looking in her direction, and she glanced either side, but there was nobody close by.
Heavens—he was walking straight toward her!
He stopped less than two feet away, and she glanced up, her stomach flipping at the determined expression in his eyes.
For what felt like an eternity, she met his gaze, fighting the urge to flee, while the world around them seemed to fade into oblivion. Then she realized that the dancing had stopped, and the crowd had formed a semicircle around the two of them.
Lord help me! They’re all staring at me.He’sstaring at me!
Her palms grew slick under his scrutiny, and a nugget of desire pulsed thickly inside her body.
What was happening?
Then he lowered himself to one knee.
“Miss Howard,” he said, his voice filling the drawing room, “will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
Chapter Twelve
Monty kneeled beforeMiss Howard, his mother’s admonishments ringing in his ears.
Lady Arabella’s the prettiest girl in the room—why do you refuse to dance with her?
If you tarry, Dunton will snap her up—or even that upstart Mr. Moss.
And the final comment that had pushed him over the precipice…
If you don’t ask her to marry you,I’llask on your behalf.
“Miss Howard,” he said, “will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
A collective intake of breath rippled through the room, as if the whole company were about to faint with shock.
And well they might. What the bloody hell was he doing?
Serving Mother right, that was what, by proposing to the least handsome, least congenial—and most undesirable—creature in the room, in the hope Mother would cease plaguing him.
Miss Howard stared at him, fear and astonishment in her eyes. She was so still, he might have believed her a statue were it not for the faint pulse at the base of her throat. He let his gaze wander across her chest, taking in her neckline and the swell of her breasts…
Perhaps notsoundesirable after all.
