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He threw her a sly glance. “I shan’t.”
“Hmm… And what have you planned for tonight?”
He led her slowly around the room, watching the gathering crowd. “Nothing.”
The gaze she threw him was full of skepticism as a smile played about her lips. “Somehow, I doubt that very much.”
Clever girl. “Fair enough. I plan to fulfill your wish to dance every dance of the ball. And I assure you that after such an event, you shall reconsider the entire charade.”
“Whatever makes you think that?” A grimace of incredulity was evident on her face, and all Adam could do was stifle a chuckle.
“Lord Hexley!” Adam stopped by the little old man, an acquaintance of his father’s. He was a pleasant man and generally very agreeable company. Except, perhaps, during a buzzing ball.
“Adam!” The old man patted Adam familiarly on the shoulder. “And who is this gorgeous young lady on your arm?”
“Miss Beatrice Fowley, let me present to you Lord Huxley, an old family friend.”
“No doubt,” Beatrice murmured under her breath, so quietly Adam barely heard her. She dipped into a perfect curtsy and added loudly this time, “Lovely to meet you, my lord.”
“Mistress Fowley?” Lord Hexley yelled loudly, taken aback.
Beatrice’s face became the color of tomatoes.
“Miss Beatrice Fowley!” Adam corrected with a chuckle.
“Oh, apologies, I can’t hear right with my left ear!” the man clarified. “And I can’t hear at all with my right.”
“No apology needed,” Beatrice said loudly, leaning closer to him.
Lord Hexley nodded and turned to Adam. “Such a lovely ball, is it not? Your sister is such a beautiful soul. Not only to host such an impeccable social occasion but to remember an old relic like me.” He let out a hearty laugh.
“I doubt anyone could ever forget you, my lord. Without you, this ball would have been empty.”
“Plenty? Yes, there still would have been plenty of guests without my presence.” Hexley nodded.
“No, my lord,” Adam said loudly as he leaned closer to the old man. “I said empty!”
“Oh! Reserve the flattery for a beautiful lady on your arm, my boy,” Lord Hexley chuckled. “Or I might steal her away for a dance.”
Beatrice threw a worried glance toward Adam, her fingers tightening on his forearm.
“We were just discussing that, weren’t we?” He raised a brow toward Beatrice, a soft smile on his lips. Then back to Hexley, “Miss Fowley has the next dance free, you see. So if you’d truly like to steal her away, this would be a perfect chance.”
“A perfect dance? Oh, I don’t know. I can barely move my feet in time to the music. But I can never decline such a wonderful partner.”
Adam knew that throwing an invitation such as this would practically require Lord Hexley to offer Beatrice the next dance, and she couldn’t refuse. Setting a perfect trap, Adam watched as his matched couple walked toward the dance floor, Beatrice discreetly throwing daggers at him with her gaze.
One down.
He took out a list from his coat pocket—the list of guests Isabel’s housekeeper provided him with—and looked through the names of attending gentlemen. All he needed to do was find eleven more challenging, unpleasant, or perhaps annoying partners for Beatrice to dance with, and his mission would be accomplished.
She wanted to dance all the dances of the ball? He’d make sure she would be tired and also bored out of her mind by the end.
And he did just that, setting up Beatrice with the worst possible partners for the next few dances.
Just before supper, Isabel approached him with a troubled look on her face. “Why are you trying to ruin Beatrice’s night?” she asked without preamble.
Beatrice? Since when was his sister on a first-name basis with the bluestocking? Although, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Isabel befriended everything that moved. And she would befriend even inanimate objects if they could reciprocate.
