Chapter 7 #3
“I—” The girl giggled a little. She was on the plain side, her dress of a less quality fabric than some of the finer ones in the room, but her brown eyes were very pretty, and the little gap between her two front teeth made her smile rather sweet.
She seemed the kind of person that it would be pleasant to have a conversation with.
“I do not think you are meant to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Introduce yourself. Without, well, a host. Or someone.”
Mya did not point out just how ridiculous she thought that rule was, though she really wanted to. She shrugged, and offered a smile. “I will not tell if you won’t.”
There was no one close enough to hear, and they could always claim later that they had met properly. The young woman smiled.
“Very well, then. I am Agnes Donald.”
“I am delighted to meet you, Agnes,” Mya said honestly.
By the time Lottie and Eleanora returned from the dance, Mya had discovered—while watching Kayden from the corner of her eye—that Agnes was the youngest of four daughters, and that her dress had been passed on from the one above her in age.
Her family was well off enough to make into the upper echelons of polite society, but only just, which left her unsure of where she fit in the scheme of things.
Mya thought perhaps making friends with a pair of eccentric, wealthy young women might help in that regard.
Of course, it might also do more harm than good.
It all depended on how eccentric one considered Lottie and, by extension, Eleanora.
Her brusque dismissal of the young man earlier in the night had likely not aided her case.
“Miss Donald, is it?” Lottie said when she had reached them, dismissing the young man who had escorted her across the floor to her seat. “How lovely to see you again.”
“Miss Alan,” Agnes said, dipping her head in a little bow. “And Miss MacLaren,” she added as Eleanora too was dropped off at her seat by a dance partner who seemed to sense rather quickly that his presence was no longer desired.
“Hello, Miss Donald,” Eleanora said, offering a kind smile and smoothing out her skirts. “Mya, who is next on your dance card?”
Mya glanced down at the little booklet hanging from her wrist. “There is an empty space,” she said. She had left it in the hopes that Kayden, or at least someone more interesting than the vapid boys who flocked after Lottie, might ask her.
“I think you will soon find it filled,” Lottie said, grinning at her.
As though the words were prophecy, Kayden appeared through the crowd, headed their way.
Mya could not bring herself to think of him strictly as Lord McGregor, though she knew that she ought to, considering his station was well above her own, and a slip as intimate as calling him by his given name after only two meetings might well start the kinds of rumors that were very difficult to stop.
But Lord McGregor just felt...wrong. Kayden was the name that kept sighing across her thoughts and echoing in her dreams. Just Kayden.
“Miss Boyle,” Kayden said when he was standing between them and the milling group on the dance floor. “Miss Donald.” He dipped his head to each of them in turn. “Miss Alan. Miss MacLaren.”
“Lord McGregor,” they greeted, more or less in chorus.
He swept into a bow. “I was wondering, Miss Boyle, if I might have the honor of dancing with you at your next available convenience.”
“With pleasure, Lord McGregor,” Mya said. “That convenience is, in fact, now. No one asked me to dance the Schottische.”
That was not strictly true, but it was likely better than admitting that she had turned away more than three prospective dance partners in order to leave the slot open. That was not the kind of behavior considered acceptable in polite society, and she well knew it.
“Then I shall be glad to escort you to the dance floor,” Kayden said with a handsome smile.
He straightened, and Mya rose, only to pause as he turned and bowed to Agnes. “Miss Donald,” he said. “Perhaps I might be permitted the pleasure of dancing with you after this round?”
Agnes giggled, her cheeks turning pink. “I would be more than happy to give you a dance, Lord McGregor,” she answered, her voice fluttery despite her best efforts to keep it under control.
As they turned away from the little group of women at the edge of the room, Mya smiled. “She will remember that for a long time to come.”
“I am only doing what is expected of me,” Kayden said.
Mya almost stumbled as her feet momentarily stopped moving and the rest of her body went on without her.
Just doing what was expected. Her jaw tightened.
“Is that all it is, then?” she asked as they promenaded onto the dance floor.
“Doing what is expected?” She looked up at him. “Do you take no joy in it at all?”
“No more than the joy of something right done well.”
She ought to have known better than to accept his invitation. Condescending arse. They would see how much joy he got out of it when she stepped all over his toes.