Chapter 6
Nathanial
Watching Miss Little dance with Christian was pure torture.
It also made him a terrible dancer as he trod on Lady Nichole’s toes more than once because he was too distracted by the way Christian leaned into Miss Little…
the way he held her hand… the way he laughed at something she’d said.
Christian never showed his true self to the ladies he flirted with, but he’d laughed for Miss Little.
Actually laughed. Not the artificial laugh he normally reserved for the ladies he interacted with, but a laugh of real, surprised humor.
And then been arrested by whatever she said next in a manner that Nathanial had never seen him engaged in before.
That was when he’d trodden on Lady Nichole’s toes for the third time, then forced himself to focus, though she batted her lashes and smiled at him through his apologies, regardless.
After all, one did not take a duke to task, no matter how poorly he danced.
But he felt rather bad.
“Do you think he is courting her?” Lady Nichole asked, apparently reaching the end of her patience with pretending she did not see his distraction.
“Who?”
“The Duke of Montagu. Do you think he is courting Miss Little?” Impatience tinged her voice. Despite his station, the lady was becoming annoyed with him, and he could not blame her.
“No more than he is any other lady of the ton.” Nathanial forced himself to chuckle at the jest, even though he was wondering the same thing now.
In truth, he was not sure why Christian had singled out Miss Little for the first dance, nor why he’d been so blatantly flirtatious with her.
The man’s motives were often a puzzle to him.
“They make a very striking pair,” Lady Nichole said thoughtfully. “It would certainly be a coup for her if he were to court her for a bit.”
Nathanial made a noncommittal noise, gritting his teeth against expressing how he felt about that notion.
The situation did not improve when the dance ended.
Rather than being able to make his way across the room to where Miss Little and Christian were—he only wanted to dance with her to discover what she’d said that had so amused Christian, of course—he’d been almost immediately halted by the Duke and Duchess of Clarence.
“Lady Nichole, would you do me the honor of a dance?” Gregory asked, smiling at the young lady. “And Nathanial, you’ll dance with Tiffany.”
It was not a request.
“Of course.” Nathanial bowed over Tiffany’s hand. He’d actually come quite close to offering for her before she’d been discovered kissing Gregory in the library at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball.
Truthfully, he still would have married her after that because he knew exactly who to blame for that particular scandal. Tiffany was far too sensible to have initiated that sequence of events. But Gregory had insisted that he be the one to marry her, and so he had.
As they’d been a love match by the time they were actually wed, it was rather lucky that Nathanial had not gone through with attempting to further his suit. It would have been dashed awkward for his wife to be in love with one of his closest friends and vice versa.
Getting into place to dance with Tiffany, Nathanial glanced over.
Miss Little was now paired with Matthew.
Matthew had said that he’d already flipped his lucky coin to decide whether or not to court Miss Little… but what if he’d changed his mind? What if he flipped it again, and it gave him a different answer?
He’d also flipped it for Nathanial and Miss Little, though he had not told Nathanial what the outcome was. He was not sure it would work for anyone other than himself. Not that it mattered. Nathanial was not going to court her, no matter what the Lord of Luck’s coin flip said.
The music started, and Nathanial focused himself.
Unlike Lady Nichole, Tiffany would have no hesitation in taking him to task over bruised toes.
Unfortunately, the turns of the dance made it impossible for him not to see across the room to where Miss Little and St. Albans were now dancing. Would St. Albans tell her about the coin flip? Was the reason he was dancing with her because he’d done a new one for himself?
She turned toward him, a vision in pink, her dark beauty arresting his attention. Their gazes met for a mere moment, then she turned away again. His chest felt tight, as though he could not get enough air in his lungs.
“I see what she meant,” Tiffany murmured.
Nathanial jerked his head around, managing at the last moment to keep from stepping on the duchess’ toes.
“What who meant?” he asked, confused and also relieved that she had reminded him of where he was. He needed to stop watching Miss Little and think about something else. Anything else.
Unfortunately, Miss Little was exactly who Tiffany wished to talk about.
“Kalina was worried you’d taken up against her for some reason.”
“I have not.” Indignation was swift and strong.
Tiffany studied his face as he stared down at her. She really was very beautiful, even more so since she’d become a duchess and begun wearing dresses in the blue she favored. It was far more flattering on her than the gowns she’d debuted in.
“Then why were you glaring at her?”
“I…” Had he been glaring? He had not realized. “I was looking across the room.”
“You were looking crossly across the room… at Miss Little.” Tiffany gave him a hard look. “You seemed to be getting on well enough with her at supper. And before supper.”
Nathanial hefted a sigh. Meddling females. He’d been relieved not to have his sisters dogging his every move. They’d been replaced with Sebastian’s sister in their stead. Something that would amuse them greatly if he ever admitted it to them.
Somehow, he could not escape his sisters, no matter how he tried.
“We had two very pleasant conversations, both before and during supper,” he agreed, turning in place and taking the duchess with him.
Now that they were speaking intently, it was far easier to keep his focus on the dance and not step on her feet.
Unfortunately, for poor Lady Nichole’s toes, she had not been as engaging.
“Then what is your problem with her?” Tiffany narrowed her eyes at him. “If you are judging her for title hunting…”
“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I am hardly in a position to judge that.”
Though why she would care about her father’s side of the family, he did not understand. It did seem rather petty. She might be able to force them to acknowledge her and her family by dint of status if she married a duke, but she could not force the Earl of Stilton to like or accept them.
But that was not his business, as he would not be her husband. That was something for whoever took that position.
And if the idea of another man, especially one of his friends, taking that position made him want to punch something… well, he would feel better once he’d chosen his own bride. It was likely his own uncertain state that made his emotions so unsettled.
Once he knew his direction, he would no longer be so distracted by Miss Little.
Far too aware of Tiffany’s discerning gaze taking in every minute change in his expression, Nathanial cleared his throat.
“If you must know, I find Miss Little’s company enjoyable, but as I have already determined that she is not what I am seeking for a bride, it seems prudent to keep her at a distance.
I would not want to stymy her efforts to find a duke nor my own to find the wife I require.
” He knew he sounded priggish, haughty even, but he could not help it.
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed.
“Why is she not what you are seeking for a bride?” There was a warning note in her voice that made him think there was a correct answer and a wrong answer, and a misstep would result in her extreme displeasure.
But he could not be anything but honest, even with that risk.
“I need a wife who can guide my sisters through their Seasons. One with a faultless reputation and place among Society to help diminish the damage my father did to our family.” He raised his eyebrow at Tiffany.
“As delightful as she is, you cannot tell me that Miss Little’s place in Society is of such quality. ”
“Through no fault of her own.”
“Through no fault of her own,” he conceded. “But nonetheless.”
Appearing for a moment as though she would argue, Tiffany turned her head away from him and sighed. Sapphires, surrounded by tiny diamonds, shimmered against her ears. The kind of jewels he hoped to one day be able to buy for his own wife.
But pink instead of blue.
He shook his head, shaking away the whisper that slithered through his mind. He would buy whatever jewels his wife desired. Pink was only on his mind because they were speaking of Miss Little.
Tiffany huffed.
“Well, there are other dukes,” she said. “Though I thought you and Kalina made a nice pair.”
Had Miss Little said something to her?
Had she asked Tiffany to intercede?
Nathanial barely managed to bite his lip against asking.
It doesn’t matter.
Thankfully, the dance was ending, taking the temptation to ask her away from him.
Instead, he spent the next few dances in distracted hell as Miss Little danced with Gregory next, then Sebastian, then Drake, who had abandoned his spot at the piano when Lady Kari replaced Lady Astrid to give her a turn on the dance floor.
He saw Christian turn and started heading back Miss Little’s way as Drake bowed over her hand.
If he did not dance with her at all, surely that would cause more comment than dancing with her. He had certainly waited an appropriate amount of time since Christian had the thought to claim a second dance with her. No one would think twice about her dancing with Nathanial first.
He barely managed to reach her before Christian did, bowing low in front of her startled gaze.
“Miss Little, may I have this dance?”
“I… yes, of course.” There was only a moment of hesitation before she accepted. “Oh…”
Her head turned to look at the piano as Lady Kari began to play the strains of a waltz. Nathanial straightened, frowning when she stepped back away from him. The idea of being denied his dance, or of her waltzing with another man, was not pleasant.
“Is something wrong?”
“I-I have not been given permission to waltz,” she stammered out. “We… Almack’s…” She wrung her hands helplessly in front of her, and Nathanial was hit with a sudden wave of rage.
Because of her family’s position and the Earl of Stilton’s refusal to acknowledge them, the high stickler patronesses at Almack’s must have denied them entry. Which meant she could not receive permission to waltz from any of them, either.
Fortunately for her, the patronesses only held sway over the social scene of London, not the country, where the rules were far more lax.
Stepping forward, Nathanial took her hand and put his other on her waist, pulling her toward him and sliding his hand up her back to the proper position.
Her dark eyes widened with shock, bosom heaving upwards against the low neckline of her gown as she sucked in a breath, either from surprise or the sudden nearness of his body, he was not sure.
“You are in the country at a house party,” he said reassuringly. “There is no need for permission from Almack’s out here. The country is where young ladies learn to waltz.”
Then he stepped forward, and she automatically stepped back, instinctively following his lead, then they were whirling around the ballroom with the other couples.
Unlike the previous dances, some of which had provided opportunities for easy discussion and some of which had not, the waltz was a closer dance.
More intimate.
More dangerous.
He could feel her body only inches from his, the way her skirts swished around them as his leg moved between hers every time he stepped forward. They could have spoken, yet it felt like a single word would break the spell that was growing between them.
They moved in silence, the entire world seeming to drop away until all that was left was them and the music. He had never been so aware of a woman he was dancing with in his life.
She was not trying to beguile him, yet he was beguiled.
She was not attempting to fascinate him, yet he was unable to break free of the spell that had woven around them.
When she lifted her gaze to meet his as the music ended, her eyes were fathomless dark pools that Nathanial could easily fall into. She was a siren, with no need of a song.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered, stepping away.
Letting her go ached. But he had to.
He was very aware, as he stepped away and she turned to smile prettily and accept her father’s offer of a dance, that the eyes of everyone in the room were on him and her. Lifting his chin, he turned away, seeking his next dance partner.
The Duchess of Clarence caught his eye and lifted one delicately arched brow at him.
This was going to be a very long house party.