Page 17
“You have given everyone reason to suppose you object.”
“I did not intend to make a spectacle.”
“Then you should have left us to finish.”
“Lydia.”
He spoke her name quietly, without its title. For a moment she noticed nothing but his voice and the warmth beneath her glove. The unexpected intimacy of it sent a flutter through her chest, which only made her angrier. He could not simply speak her name like that and expect her to forget his behavior
“Would you have interrupted if I had been dancing with someone else?”
They took the turn in silence, and when they came together again, he still had no answer. “You do not know what you want,” she said quietly. “And I am made to pay for your uncertainty.”
“I asked you to dance.”
“In front of everyone, while I was already dancing.”
He glanced toward the watching guests, and she saw him understand what he had done. Too late. She had accepted him to avoid attracting attention, and now their mothers stood together looking pleased. A woman could acquire a story in a ballroom before she acquired a suitor. If Ashcombe appeared possessive, other men might retreat out of courtesy or plain unwillingness to compete with a duke. Lydia had come to the ball determined to keep her future open, and Tristan, who had refused to be part of it, had just narrowed it in front of half the county.
“You have refused me once already,” she said. “It is not also for you to choose whom I may please.”
“I have no claim on you.” He said it to the space beside her shoulder.
“Then please stop behaving as though you do.”
She stopped moving. The next couple changed course to avoid them. Tristan released her hand, leaving her to step out of their way while the music continued. “Please excuse me.”
Lydia inclined her head and walked from the floor. Her mother started toward her, but Lydia went to sit beside Clara Bellamy, who moved aside on the sofa without making a fuss. “Would you like some water?” her companion asked.
“Yes, please.”
She settled her hands in her lap. Beneath her glove, the little cut pressed its seam. Yesterday she had watched Tristan tie the linen and wondered whether she had judged him too quickly. Tonight he had answered the question badly. Near the far pillar, Henry had stopped in the middle of a sentence to watch the duke’s back, and when he caught her eye, he raised one brow in a question she declined to answer. Tristan remained where she had left him. Then the Dowager Duchess approached her son, and Lydia turned her face away.
CHAPTER FIVE
His mother reached him before he had left the floor. “What happened?”
Tristan stepped aside to allow a couple to pass. “This is hardly the place.”
“Lydia has just walked away from you in the middle of a dance.”
“I noticed.”
“What did you say to her?”
Across the room, a young woman handed Lydia water. Lydia leaned closer to hear her above the music, taking care to put her companion at ease. Tristan recognized the effort because he had been performing it all evening. “Leave her alone, Mama.”
“I intended to ask whether she was upset.”
“Then you will oblige her to assure you she is not.”
His mother looked toward the sofa.
“Lydia will be fine,” he said, hearing how neatly the words excused him.
“And you?”
He turned back to her. “Have you finished?”
