Chapter 15 #2
Duncan, who appeared to possess a stronger instinct for self-preservation than Gregory, immediately turned toward Stephen and began discussing the crowd, while Maria concealed a smile and Charity looked far too pleased with herself.
Augusta cleared her throat and shifted the conversation toward the musicians, but Ronan found himself standing closer to her again, his shoulder nearly brushing hers as though proximity alone might shield her from the fact that everyone in the room seemed determined to observe them.
Duncan glanced between them before addressing Ronan. “I confess that I owe Charity five pounds, because I was convinced you would discover some pressing matter of estate management before this evening and decide that Augusta could survive a ball without you.”
Ronan looked toward Charity. “You wagered on whether I would attend?”
Charity smiled with remarkable innocence. “Duncan wagered. I merely accepted the opportunity to profit from his poor judgment.”
“And on what basis were you so certain?” Ronan asked, although the way both sisters looked at him made him immediately regret the question.
Charity’s smile widened. “Augusta was coming.”
Duncan laughed quietly. “That was the whole argument, and apparently it was enough.”
Augusta’s cheeks colored again, and Ronan became increasingly convinced that everyone had been discussing his marriage without the courtesy of including him.
Stephen rescued them by speaking about the renovations Hetherford had made to the ballroom, while Maria joined Charity in discussing the hostess, and for several minutes the conversation moved easily enough that Ronan almost relaxed.
He remained near Augusta, however, noticing the small movements she made beside him and the way she occasionally glanced at him as though she too had become aware that there was considerably less space between them tonight than there usually was.
Then Gregory arrived.
Ronan saw him before Augusta did, because Gregory was making his way through the crowd with the sort of cheerful confidence that allowed him to behave as though every gathering existed primarily for his entertainment.
He greeted Duncan and Stephen first, exchanged a bow with Charity and Maria, then turned toward Augusta and smiled with enough warmth that Ronan’s irritation returned before the man had even opened his mouth.
“Lady Ravenhill,” Gregory said, allowing his gaze to pass over her gown with open appreciation, “I had prepared several remarks about how delighted I was to see Ravenhill voluntarily appear in society, but I am afraid you have made all of them irrelevant, because no sensible man should be looking at him while you are standing beside him. You look extraordinary.”
Augusta smiled. “Thank you. At least someone tonight appears capable of producing a proper compliment.”
Ronan knew that was directed at him.
Gregory knew it too. The bastard’s eyes brightened.
Before Ronan had consciously decided to move, his hand settled against Augusta’s waist, his palm fitting around the curve through the smooth fabric of her gown, and the contact affected them both immediately.
Augusta’s breath altered and the color returned to her face, while Ronan felt the warmth of her through the thin layers beneath his hand and had the deeply inconvenient memory of touching her in precisely the same place the night before.
Ronan tightened his hand slightly.
Gregory’s mouth curved.
“Whatever you are thinking,” Ronan said quietly, “stop.”
Gregory looked delighted. “I have not said a word.”
Augusta glanced between them, but her attention seemed divided, because Ronan could feel the small rise and fall of her breathing beneath his hand and knew she was as aware of his touch as he was.
When she shifted slightly, rather than moving away from him, she came closer, and Ronan’s fingers tightened again before he could remind himself that standing in a crowded ballroom was not the place to explore whatever had begun happening between them.
Gregory, naturally, made the situation worse.
“Since Ravenhill has already fulfilled the astonishing obligation of appearing, I suppose it would be unreasonable to expect him to dance as well, which means I should probably offer my services before some less charitable gentleman claims your first set.”
Gregory looked back with perfect innocence.
Augusta turned her head slightly, and Ronan could feel the movement beside him. “Yes, the duke doesn’t like dancing much.”
Gregory smiled. “Then the matter is settled. Have this first dance on me.”
Ronan looked at his friend. No, he glared at him with an annoyance that he had never felt for him before.
It wasn’t so unusual for a woman to be asked for a dance, yet Ronan could not fathom the possibility of Augusta dancing with someone this night who was not him.
“No,” Ronan said. “There will be no need for that.”
Augusta’s brows rose. “I’m not sure if I quite understand what is happening here?”
Ronan turned toward her before Gregory could speak again. “Dance with me.”
For one second she simply stared. Then the surprise in her expression softened into something that made him suddenly glad he had asked.
“You truly want to dance?” she said, in disbelief. “Even though you told me, quite sincerely, that balls are tedious and dancing is worse?”
“I have reconsidered, and I am allowed to change my mind,” he said.
Gregory made a suspicious sound but Ronan ignored him.
Augusta’s smile grew. “What brought about this remarkable change of heart?”
Ronan glanced toward Gregory, then back at her. “At present, the desire to remove you from this conversation.”
Augusta laughed, but Ronan continued before she could dismiss his invitation as merely another contest between the two men. “And because I would like to dance with my wife, which seems reason enough unless you intend to make me regret asking.”
The laughter faded from Augusta’s eyes, replaced by something softer. “I better take the offer before you rescind it.”
She placed her hand in his and Ronan led her toward the floor.
Dancing had never been impossible for him, but neither had it been pleasant since the injury to his leg, and he had learned to avoid the more demanding sets rather than spend an evening pretending that each turn did not send discomfort through the damaged joint.
Tonight, however, Augusta adjusted to him almost at once, shortening her steps so subtly that another man might not have noticed, and Ronan, who had spent years noticing every accommodation others made for his injury, recognized it immediately.
“You do not have to alter your pace for me,” he told her as they settled into the rhythm of the dance, keeping his voice low enough that the conversation remained between them.
“I am perfectly capable of keeping up, and I would rather you enjoy yourself than spend the entire set worrying about whether I can manage it.”
Augusta looked up at him with a slight smile. “Perhaps you should consider the possibility that I prefer this pace.”
“Or maybe you are only saying that to appease me,” he replied.
He knew one thing about his wife, and that was that she was considerate beyond his imagination. It was one of the things that he liked about her most; he had realized.
“And so what of it?” she shrugged. “You are my husband, and if I say a thing to appease you, then what is so wrong with it?”
“Only that I have come to expect honesty from you,” he replied. “I wouldn’t think that you’d keep yourself from speaking your mind, even if it means saying the wrong thing.”
She let out a laugh at that.
“I don’t think we need to turn this into an argument,” she told him. “I’m just glad that you have agreed to dance. Really, I never thought I would see the day.”
“I wanted to spare you the horror of having Gregory as your dance partner,” he tried to play it off, but she was too quick for him.
“Or perhaps you liked the idea of dancing with your wife,” she smiled. “Even though I know that you will never admit it.”
“If the delusion serves you, then I shall not argue further.”
But he had a smile on his face.
They settled into their motions. Then, for several moments, neither spoke.
Augusta seemed unusually distracted tonight. Her gaze occasionally wandered beyond his shoulder, and her attention returned to him a fraction too late, which made Ronan wonder whether she was thinking about the previous evening just as frequently as he was.
He had intended to discuss the murder with her tonight, however, and the thought of that danger offered a useful escape from the far less manageable problem of her dress, her perfume, and the warmth of her hand in his.
“The constable sent word this morning,” he said.
Augusta’s expression sharpened immediately. “About the woman from Phillipa’s household?”
“Yes, although there is little progress worth reporting. They have questioned the servants again and confirmed that she had worked for Phillipa’s family for more than twenty years, but they still have no witness who remembers seeing her with anyone unusual in the days before she died, and no one appears to know why she would have been in the garden that night. ”
Augusta frowned as he guided her through another slow turn. “Then they still have no idea whether she was the intended victim, or whether she happened to see something she should not have seen.”
“Exactly, and that is one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you.”
Something in his tone made her look at him more carefully. “You think there is something I should be worried about?”
Ronan hesitated only long enough to decide how much concern he wished to place in her mind. “I think we have been so occupied with whether you saw the murderer clearly that neither of us has spent enough time considering the opposite question, which is how clearly he saw you.”