Chapter 7
As they returned to her customary seat by the chaperones, Thea finally released his hand and curtsied. “Thank you for the dance, Your Highness.”
He bowed low, and Thea loved the ease and elegance with which he did it. “It was my honor and my privilege. Until next time, Miss Templebourne.”
“There can’t be a next time.” The words came out of Thea’s mouth, unbidden.
“We shall see about that,” Prince Alexander said with a smile. “Ladies. Your Grace. Good evening.”
“Don’t listen to her,” said the dowager duchess.
“We shall see you next time, Your Highness,” the other older woman said.
Thankfully, before Thea could speak, a crowd of young men approached. She tore her gaze from the prince to focus on the suitors coming for Sophia and Louisa—the reason her uncle was paying for this season, and Thea would not forget it.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Templebourne?” This came from a young man at least five years her junior, and it wasn’t directed at Louisa or Sophia.
“Excuse me?” Thea said as she stilled in shock.
“Miss Templebourne, would you care to dance?” he asked again.
Oh, this will not do, Thea thought. “I cannot. I am fatigued. But either of my cousins would make excellent dance partners.”
“Of course.” He held out a hand to Sophia. “Would you do me the honor?”
“My pleasure, Mr. Kingston.”
Other young men gathered around, and their smiles were all directed at her, not Louisa.
No, this will not do at all.
“Louisa, please watch over your sister while you sit out this dance, if you would. I must repair my hem.”
Without waiting for Louisa to reply, Thea rushed toward the ladies’ retiring room.
Her whole world was upended in a single dance. She rushed away from the prying eyes in bewilderment, simply needing a moment to compose herself. As she turned the corner in a sharp movement, she ran face-first into a man.
“Oh, I am so sorry. How gauche. Please forgive me,” she said.
“It is I who must ask for your forgiveness. Are you all right?”
He held her by the shoulders, steadying her on her feet, yet Thea felt decidedly unsteady.
“You are Miss Theodosia Templebourne,” he said. “I apologize for lacking a formal introduction. It is not my intention to breach protocol, but I cannot pretend I do not know who you are.”
Thea looked up into a familiar pair of dark eyes. Carlton. That’s who he is.
“I am,” she replied.
He let go of her shoulders, yet she could still feel where he had touched her.
Thea nodded, but said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. It was outside her experience to first be asked to dance by a prince and then run face-first into a duke.
While she was searching for words, he continued, “Forgive me. This is why we have formal introductions, and one does not ignore such etiquette. Peregrine Edmund Worth, Eighth Duke of Carlton.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace. Of course you are. I knew that. Please forgive me, for all of it.”
“All is forgiven. But may I ask again, are you all right? You seem … unsettled.”
A flush creeped up her neck and heated her face. Etiquette demanded she admit nothing of the sort, but honesty burst forth instead.
“I am not quite sure what I am right now, Your Grace. Confused, I suppose. Excuse me. I must go. My charges await my return.”
“Confused by what, Miss Templebourne?”
Again, Thea knew how she should reply, but tonight wasn’t a typical evening. She looked up and met his dark gaze. “Why all of a sudden men seem to notice I exist.”
The Duke of Carlton smiled. “Perhaps my honesty is unwelcome, but I assure you, it is not all of a sudden.” With that, he bowed. “I shall leave you to your errand. Good evening, Miss Templebourne.”