temper growing. The man gave no consideration to Bianca’s feelings in the least. He hadn’t seemed to even consider the possibility that she might not see his attention as the greatest victory of her life.
“Mr. Hensley?”
Mathew turned to Mrs. Davidson, who had apparently directed a question toward him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I asked when your mother was returning to Brookborrow?”
“It will be another week at least. She and my father enjoy London this time of year.”
“I wish I could go to London,” Miss Marta said, sighing dramatically.
“I don’t expect you take my word for it,” Mathew said, “but I much prefer Brookborrow. There are ever so many rules to follow and expectations to fill amid London society. My mother was raised there and has a great many friends to see, but for my temperament, Brookborrow is everything wonderful and comfortable.”
“You only say that because you have been able to compare the two.” Miss Marta affected a pretty pout. “While I’ll never get the chance to determine even those parts I shall hate. The society must be so very fashionable there.”
“Just because we don’t have a London Season does not mean we do not enjoy society or enjoy fashion in our right,” Bianca said.
Miss Marta sighed again with the martyrdom of youth, and Bianca and Mathew shared a smile. The orchestra, which had been filling the background with a lovely melody, signaled that the dancing portion of the night was about to begin.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Davidson?” Mathew asked. He was eager to relay the exchange he’d had with Strapshire, but even more eager to have Bianca’s attention all to himself.
Bianca smiled and stepped forward, but before she could take his arm, Lord Strapshire suddenly appeared between them, took Bianca’s hand, and pulled her toward the floor.
Mathew was too stunned to react immediately, and by the time he had taken a step after them, Bianca was part of a four set, looking at him with wide eyes. Mathew considered trying to force his claim for the first dance, but Lord Strapshire’s rude manner had already been noticed and allowing that rudeness to linger might be the better solution than showing himself poorly too. He nodded to Bianca and stepped back beside her mother.
Mrs. Davidson said nothing, but the way she fluttered her fan told him she was also anxious about what had happened.
Mathew watched every step of the dance, his anger and jealousy growing despite his attempts to talk himself down. Lord Strapshire pranced and performed as though he were on stage, a triumphant smile on his face as he executed the steps of the dance perfectly. What Mathew wouldn’t give to plant a fist in that man’s nose!
As soon as the dance ended, Mathew started toward Bianca, meeting her and Strapshire halfway across the floor.
“Might I have this dance?” Mathew pointedly ignored Strapshire’s narrowed look.
“Certainly, Mr. Hensley,” she said, quickly extracting herself from Strapshire and taking Mathew’s arm.
Mathew didn’t even bother meeting Strapshire’s eye as he escorted Bianca back to the middle of the floor.
As soon as he could safely state his mind, Mathew began his grumbling, “That indolent, pompous—”
“Arrogant windbag!” Bianca cut in.
They shared an equally irritated look. “And yet he gets away with it,” Bianca added. “What does anyone see in him that is worthy of any appreciation at all?”
They took their places on the floor but were too far away from each other to converse easily. Once the dance began, they shared brief conversation when they could, and Mathew told her of Strapshire’s warning that he not insert himself in the baron’s plan to propose.
Bianca’s neck turned red with irritation. “Why does he not give up?” she said during a step where she hopped a circle around Mathew. Her cheeks were in high color, her jaw tight and her eyes flashing. Quite frankly, she was
“Mr. Hensley?”
Mathew turned to Mrs. Davidson, who had apparently directed a question toward him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I asked when your mother was returning to Brookborrow?”
“It will be another week at least. She and my father enjoy London this time of year.”
“I wish I could go to London,” Miss Marta said, sighing dramatically.
“I don’t expect you take my word for it,” Mathew said, “but I much prefer Brookborrow. There are ever so many rules to follow and expectations to fill amid London society. My mother was raised there and has a great many friends to see, but for my temperament, Brookborrow is everything wonderful and comfortable.”
“You only say that because you have been able to compare the two.” Miss Marta affected a pretty pout. “While I’ll never get the chance to determine even those parts I shall hate. The society must be so very fashionable there.”
“Just because we don’t have a London Season does not mean we do not enjoy society or enjoy fashion in our right,” Bianca said.
Miss Marta sighed again with the martyrdom of youth, and Bianca and Mathew shared a smile. The orchestra, which had been filling the background with a lovely melody, signaled that the dancing portion of the night was about to begin.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Davidson?” Mathew asked. He was eager to relay the exchange he’d had with Strapshire, but even more eager to have Bianca’s attention all to himself.
Bianca smiled and stepped forward, but before she could take his arm, Lord Strapshire suddenly appeared between them, took Bianca’s hand, and pulled her toward the floor.
Mathew was too stunned to react immediately, and by the time he had taken a step after them, Bianca was part of a four set, looking at him with wide eyes. Mathew considered trying to force his claim for the first dance, but Lord Strapshire’s rude manner had already been noticed and allowing that rudeness to linger might be the better solution than showing himself poorly too. He nodded to Bianca and stepped back beside her mother.
Mrs. Davidson said nothing, but the way she fluttered her fan told him she was also anxious about what had happened.
Mathew watched every step of the dance, his anger and jealousy growing despite his attempts to talk himself down. Lord Strapshire pranced and performed as though he were on stage, a triumphant smile on his face as he executed the steps of the dance perfectly. What Mathew wouldn’t give to plant a fist in that man’s nose!
As soon as the dance ended, Mathew started toward Bianca, meeting her and Strapshire halfway across the floor.
“Might I have this dance?” Mathew pointedly ignored Strapshire’s narrowed look.
“Certainly, Mr. Hensley,” she said, quickly extracting herself from Strapshire and taking Mathew’s arm.
Mathew didn’t even bother meeting Strapshire’s eye as he escorted Bianca back to the middle of the floor.
As soon as he could safely state his mind, Mathew began his grumbling, “That indolent, pompous—”
“Arrogant windbag!” Bianca cut in.
They shared an equally irritated look. “And yet he gets away with it,” Bianca added. “What does anyone see in him that is worthy of any appreciation at all?”
They took their places on the floor but were too far away from each other to converse easily. Once the dance began, they shared brief conversation when they could, and Mathew told her of Strapshire’s warning that he not insert himself in the baron’s plan to propose.
Bianca’s neck turned red with irritation. “Why does he not give up?” she said during a step where she hopped a circle around Mathew. Her cheeks were in high color, her jaw tight and her eyes flashing. Quite frankly, she was
Similar Books
