Chapter 22
“He’s staring at you,” Agnes murmured.
Dorothy didn’t look up from the glass of wine in her hands. She had been studying it for the past twenty minutes as a means of avoiding looking around the room. She didn’t want to see Nathaniel. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure how she was going to react to the sight of him, and it worried her.
What would she feel when she first laid eyes on him? Simple friendship and gratitude for the gown he had sent? Anger, for the fact that he had overstepped like this? Would she be thrown into a spiral of confusion about what he thought he was doing?
It was better to focus on the wine. Even though she hadn’t been able to bring herself to drink much of it, wanting to keep a clear head, at least it gave her something else to keep her eyes on.
But apparently she was the only one keeping her eyes to herself. There could be no question about who Agnes meant. Who else would be staring at her?
Still, she feigned ignorance. “Who’s staring?”
“Nathaniel. But don’t look.”
There had been no danger of that. “Does he look…what does he look like?”
“What do you mean?” Agnes asked.
Dorothy didn’t know exactly what she meant. She wanted to decode Nathaniel’s actions without speaking to him. She’d rather hoped there would be an expression on his face that might serve as a clue. But, of course, without knowing what she was looking for, she could hardly ask her friend to find it.
“Is he angry?” she tried.
“No,” Agnes said, sounding mystified. “What would he be angry about?”
Dorothy hadn’t really thought he would be. A man who was angry at her wouldn’t send her a fine gown. And besides, he didn’t have a reason to be angry.
She thought.
Their last encounter, when she had allowed him to touch her face, still hung in her mind, refusing to let go.
What if there had been something wrong in all that?
What if he resented her for something she had done?
She thought back over it. They had gotten carried away with the intensity of the moment, yes, but that was all it had been.
Unless it had been her fault somehow? She didn’t think so, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think so.
“He’s coming over,” Agnes hissed.
“He is?” What was she supposed to say? Thank you for the gown would make sense, but she wasn’t about to say that in front of Agnes. But then that would mean pretending he hadn’t given her an extravagant gift, and that would be ungrateful…
“Lady Dorothy,” Nathaniel said, coming to a stop in front of her.
Dorothy was forced to look up. He was smiling, but she didn’t know what to infer from that.
Was he just happy to see her? Or maybe he was thinking that she looked good in the dress?
It does look very fine on me. I’m sure he’s pleased with his purchase.
That thought set her stomach churning all over again.
Nathaniel’s eyes lingered on her for a very long moment before he turned to Agnes. “Lady Agnes,” he said.
“Oh, Nathaniel, you don’t need to be so formal,” Agnes said. “It’s good to see you. I know Gabriel was looking forward to talking to you, if you have the chance to get around to him at some point tonight.”
“Naturally.” Nathaniel’s gaze had returned to Dorothy. “That’s a beautiful gown.”
“Thank you.” She tried to imbue her words with meaning and hoped he understood that she was thanking him for the gown as well as the compliment.
He held out his hand to her. “Would you like to dance?”
She didn’t want to. Dancing was the worst part of coming to a ball.
She hated feeling as if she was on display.
But how could she tell him no? After the gift he’d sent her, it felt as if she owed him a favor, and this was a harmless enough one to ask for.
And then, too, there was the fact that the two of them did need to have a conversation.
On the dance floor, they would be able to speak quietly and not be overheard.
She took his hand. The moment she did, she was reminded once more of what it had been like to try to teach him to flirt. The moment when that hand had been on her face. She let go at once. It had been a mistake to touch him like that anyway, here where people could see.
She heard a huff of air—he was laughing.
I’m sure it’s very funny to him. Irritation spiked up in her again. Perhaps he’d sent this gown as some sort of joke, some way of teasing her. If that was the case, she had played right into his hands by wearing it tonight.
Suddenly, she couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. She stopped where she stood. He took a few more steps before he realized what she’d done and turned to face her, one eyebrow raised.
“I want to know what you were thinking,” she said.
“What I was thinking when?”
Dorothy paused. She wasn’t completely sure of the answer. There was more than one occasion with Nathaniel that had left her asking questions.
“Sending me this gown,” she said. Might as well start there.
In answer, he held out his arms, inviting her into the dance.
Dorothy went, a little begrudgingly. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, and standing in the middle of the dance floor not dancing would be a surefire way to do that.
They fell into the easy, familiar steps. For several moments, Nathaniel said nothing, though, and Dorothy worried that perhaps he wasn’t going to answer her question. She was just about to ask again when he spoke at last.
“The gown reminded me of you,” he said.
“You mentioned that in your note. The color, I assume?”
“Not the color,” Nathaniel said. “Although it does look very good on you. No, it was the stitching. The embroidery. It’s a pattern of roses.”
It was. “What does that have to do with me, though?”
“Well…there’s a rose garden by my house,” Nathaniel said. “And I was noticing the other day that the flowers are the same shade as your cheeks when you blush.”
He held eye contact with her as he said it.
Now she couldn’t help her mind going to the thought of his hand on her cheek. This must be the reason he’d done that. He was captivated by the color in her face.
Hasn’t he ever seen someone blush before? I don’t understand what the fixation is about.
But her heart was beating too quickly, and she was aware of the heat rising to her face as if he had summoned it there. She cleared her throat. “That was very kind of you,” she said. “Very thoughtful. Thank you for the gift.”
“It was my pleasure. It’s lovely to see you in it, I’m very glad you wore it,” Nathaniel said.
She nodded. “But, Nathaniel, you know you can’t be sending me things like this, don’t you? Not more than once.”
“Why not? You don’t like it?”
“It’s not about what I think of it,” she told him.
“It’s what other people will think. If you’re to begin a courtship with someone, she needs to feel as if she’s the most important person to you and not have to worry that you have an interest in someone else.
You should be saving these gestures for the lady you want to be your wife. ”
“What harm can it do to send you a gown now, though?” he asked. “I haven’t chosen that lady yet, so she can’t possibly be offended that I have a friendship with someone else.”
“It probably won’t matter,” Dorothy said.
“But what if someone were to find out that you gave me this gown? I haven’t told anyone, of course, but if someone saw you in the shop and then saw me wearing it, they might piece it together, and we don’t want that.
You’d gain a reputation for being the kind of man who showers ladies with gifts, and then it would mean a great deal less when you tried to do that with the lady you start courting.
If you gave her a gift, she might think, well, he gives gifts to everyone.
This doesn’t mean there’s anything special between the two of us. ”
“I see,” Nathaniel murmured. “I confess I hadn’t thought about it that way, but I suppose you’re right. I won’t send anything more.”
“Good,” Dorothy said.
But she was surprised at the pang of loss she felt, as if something precious had been ended. This was what she had wanted, for him to understand that a line had been crossed and to pledge that it wouldn’t happen again. So why was she feeling this regret?
She cleared her throat. “Enough about all that,” she said. “We ought to be talking about your plans to woo Lady Isabelle.”
“Yes, but I haven’t seen her yet,” Nathaniel said.
“You haven’t?” Dorothy frowned. “She’s right over there, dancing with Lord Hilshire.” She pivoted them so that Nathaniel was looking in the direction she had been.
“Oh,” Nathaniel murmured. “I…perhaps I’ve missed my chance. Do you think she’s with him now?”
“Of course I don’t. They’re just dancing,” Dorothy said. “Look at her. Remember what I showed you about the way a lady holds herself when she’s interested versus when she isn’t?”
Nathaniel nodded. “I see it now. She’s dancing with him out of obligation.”
“Something like that, yes. I think you should go over to her and ask her for the next dance after this one is over,” Dorothy said. “Let her know of your interest, and then you’ll be able to evaluate her response and see if she shares your feelings.”
“Feelings,” Nathaniel repeated. “I haven’t got feelings for her. I just think that she might be a good wife, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s a feeling,” Dorothy encouraged. “It’s a desire to see what you might be able to build with her, Nathaniel. That’s the feeling you want her to share. Just that interest.”
Nathaniel nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve put it off long enough. I’ve got to get over to her and see whether there is any potential there. Otherwise, it’s just you and me talking about things that aren’t real.”
Dorothy tried to understand why those words made her feel sad.
He was right. That was all they were doing—discussing hypotheticals.
But it felt like more to her, somehow. It felt like they were working together on something big and important, and the thought of him abandoning that, letting it come to an end…
That’s what he’s supposed to do. That’s what I want him to do.
There’s no reason for me to feel anything at all about it.
Or, in fact, I should be relieved that we’re moving on, that we won’t be beholden to one another anymore.
I can get back to the peaceful life I lived before I felt responsible for the romantic prospects of a duke!
The musicians paused, the dance coming to an end. She stepped back from him and let her arms fall. “Thank you for the dance, Nathaniel,” she said. “I think you know what you need to do now.”
He nodded. “Wish me luck, then?”
The way he smiled at her made her feel as if her heart might shatter. The rest of this story belongs to Lady Isabelle, and she doesn’t even know it yet.
She turned away before her face could betray what she was thinking and hurried back to Agnes. It would be good to be a wallflower again, and to watch what happened next without anyone’s eyes on her. It was the only way to guard her heart.