Chapter 12

12

M eg sighed wearily as she sank into a seat between Jane and Felicity.

"Well, if it isn't the belle of the ball," Felicity teased.

Meg smiled, but she had a suspicion the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, because it was met with matching frowns.

"Is something the matter?" Jane asked.

"Did that Mr. Everson insult you?" Felicity added.

When Meg didn't reply quickly enough, Felicity leaned forward to address Jane. "Mr. Everson's a friend of your fiancé, is he not?"

"I…believe so." Jane sounded far from certain.

"Is he a kind man?" Felicity persisted.

"How should I know?" Jane's tone was cynical, and so at odds with her sweet voice, it made Meg wince. "I'm barely acquainted with my fiancé, let alone his friends."

"Fair point." Felicity turned back to Meg with a scowl. "If he hurt your feelings, or?—"

"No, he did nothing of the sort," Meg said quickly. "He was perfectly…fine."

And he was.

Fine.

Just…fine.

She tried for a more cheerful smile, but her cheeks still ached from forced smiles while talking to the perfectly fine Mr. Everson.

He'd gone to fetch her punch, and she rather hoped he'd gotten lost in the crowd and couldn't find his way back.

Which was churlish of her. He'd done nothing wrong. He'd been pleasant in the extreme. Asking after her health, her family. She let out a sigh as weariness swept over her.

Oh, drat. What was wrong with her?

It was the most pleasant exchange she'd had with an eligible young gentleman since…since…

Her mind's eye filled with the image of Ian smiling down at her as they walked along the river.

She swallowed hard.

No. No, no, no.

It would not do to go confusing Ian with a true suitor. He wasn't in earnest with his courtship. But Mr. Everson…

She glanced over and caught Mr. Everson heading her way, his hands full of refreshments.

He seemed in earnest. Frighteningly so.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Jane asked.

"I am splendid," Meg said.

Her friends' expressions seemed to say that ‘splendid' was perhaps going too far.

"You're better off than Ann, that's for certain," Felicity said.

They all glanced over at the redhead.

Poor Ann looked trapped in a conversation with her parents and…oh no. The Ferguson twins.

"Oh dear, perhaps we should save her," Jane said.

Meg shifted, ready to bound to her feet.

"It looks like someone beat us to it," Felicity murmured.

They all watched in alarm as the Marquess of Kalvin joined the Fergusons. Poor Ann looked even more uncomfortable. In her defense, Carver's tall, surly cousin was nothing if not intimidating.

Even the Fergusons looked wary at the Marquess's arrival.

But then Rodrick, Ann's soon-to-be brother-in-law joined the group, and they all saw Ann visibly relax. "There now. Rodrick will help her if need be," Felicity said with an approving nod.

They'd all been delighted when Rodrick had proposed to Ann's sister. Franny was as kind as they came, and no one deserved a man so tried and true as Rodrick more than she.

They liked him even more when it became apparent that he was fond of Ann and took pains to make her at ease at moments such as this one.

"Here we are." Mr. Everson's voice behind her had Meg turning.

Mr. Everson handed her a lemonade before turning to greet first Felicity, and then… "Ah, Miss Clement," he said to Jane. "How wonderful to see you here."

Poor Jane turned scarlet at being singled out in such a way, and she dipped her head as she murmured a response.

The response was inaudible, but that did not seem to deter Mr. Everson. "I must tell Lord Marlin I saw his beautiful fiancée here tonight. He'll be so sorry to have missed you."

Meg was certain all three of them bore the same look of wide-eyed shock.

When Mr. Everson turned his next remarks to Felicity, asking after her brothers, Jane leaned in toward Meg. "Was he…in jest?"

Meg shook her head. "I don't believe he was."

Jane sighed softly. "Then surely he's not as good a friend to Marlin as we'd thought."

Meg wished she could argue, but what was the point in lying? "No. Clearly."

They shared a sad little smile. There was no point pretending that Marlin took any interest in his bride-to-be. Most were polite enough to ignore the awkward situation entirely.

She watched Mr. Everson's smile grow as Felicity filled him in on her brothers' exploits.

Had he been making a joke at Jane's expense? No. He truly seemed to be a kind man. Perhaps he'd thought it would raise Jane's spirits to pretend that her fiancé actually cared.

It wasn't a crime to be nice. In fact, it made her think even higher of this Mr. Everson, really.

"Miss Taylor." The words were little more than a rumble to her right.

And that was all it took. Two words in that low voice, and all thoughts of Mr. Everson and his interest flew out of her mind as her heart picked up its pace.

And that was nothing compared to how rattled she felt when her gaze actually met the young duke's.

Ian was giving her that small smile. The one that always made her feel as though they were in on some sort of secret together.

Because we are , she reminded herself. The secret is that he doesn't actually fancy you, you nincompoop.

But while reason spoke loudly and clearly in her mind, her heart was louder and more insistent. It had her reaching out to meet his outstretched hand.

It had her allowing him to help her to her feet, even though she knew without looking that her friends and that nice Mr. Everson were watching her every move.

Ian tore his gaze from hers, and she took a deep breath as reality returned…but only for a heartbeat.

"Would you mind terribly if I steal your friend for a moment?"

He was speaking to Felicity and Jane.

He was pointedly ignoring Mr. Everson.

It was…almost rude. And for some reason this made her want to laugh. He couldn't possibly be jealous. Of course not.

But for a moment, when Ian turned his gaze to the other man and arched his brows as if in challenge?—

It certainly seemed that way.

All Meg could make out past her racing heart was the sound of murmured approvals all around.

Meg bit her lip, hiding a smile as he led her through the crush, toward the veranda. He kept his chin held high, and her hand tucked into his arm. If he noticed the stares, he didn't let on.

Only when they'd ventured outside, and Meg took in a long, refreshing breath of fresh air, did she finally give in to the urge to laugh.

"What's so amusing?" Ian asked. But his lips were already twitching up into a grin.

She shook her head, keenly aware of the other guests around them. Of the fact that they were already garnering stares.

They were hardly alone, and there was nothing improper about standing here talking, but it was becoming far too easy to forget herself when Ian was around.

"What is it?" he said again. "Don't leave me out of the joke."

"It's only…" She let out a loud exhale and shook her head. "I was just thinking that you're overdoing it, aren't you?"

His smile faded. "Am I?"

Her lips trembled. Suddenly it felt unsporting to be laughing. "It's just…you almost seemed…jealous."

She clamped her lips shut.

Be quiet, you silly ninny!

Before she could look away, he stopped her. "I was."

She blinked up at him. "Pardon?"

He cleared his throat, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "I was jealous."

"Oh." That was it. That was all she could think, and all she could say.

Oh.

But why? Since when? What for?

Those questions started to bubble, but never made it past her lips, because his next words stumped her. "Do you enjoy dancing?"

She blinked. He wasn't mocking her. She knew this now.

"Because it occurred to me that I owe you a dance," he said. "I don't know if…"

His gaze slid down to her leg. "Are you able?"

She gave a short nod. Her breathing felt shallow. It had little to do with the topic, and everything to do with his demeanor.

He was…nervous. And apparently it was catching.

"I'm able, and what's more…I enjoy it." She smiled at his surprise. "In the privacy of my own bedroom, that is."

She expected him to smile. She'd hoped to make him laugh.

Instead, he grew more serious. "What else do you enjoy?"

She blinked in surprise, as much by his intensity as the question. "Pardon?"

He glanced around, and seemed to realize as she did that they were too close, and their presence together out here causing too much of a stir. "It occurred to me that if we're going to be spending more time together, you ought to be enjoying yourself."

"I have been," she said with a laugh.

The laugh felt breathless. It was difficult to feel anything but this light, dizzying sensation when he looked at her as he was right now.

It was the same look from when they'd first met.

And from when he'd held her shivering in his arms.

It was the look that made her feel like she was seen and heard, and…like she mattered.

"As I watched you and Mr. Everson…" He gave his head a shake. "Forgive me. I'm speaking out of turn."

Her eyes widened, and curiosity poked at her as he pinched his lips shut. "Well, you cannot stop now. As you watched me and Mr. Everson…" she prompted.

"I'm sure he's a pleasant chap," he started. "However, what I noticed most of all was that he was…" His jaw worked. "He treated you differently."

She blinked. He had , hadn't he? It was in a kind way as he took pains to ensure her comfort. But sometimes that was the worst way of all.

Her lips parted. She was stunned. Not because he'd seen Mr. Everson's deference to her limp, which bordered on patronizing, but that he'd understood how little she enjoyed it.

Truthfully she'd rather be mocked than pitied, and she'd always opted to be ignored than to be either.

"Do you enjoy mingling in crowds like that, or?—"

"No." She answered so quickly, they both laughed. She ducked her head, and added, "I'm painfully aware of my limp, you see."

"Yes, that's understandable. But you'd said yes to dancing."

"Only because of that dare. Because…I'd wanted to be brave."

"And you were," he said.

A silence fell.

"Make a list." It was a command, not a suggestion, and her brows arched at the change in his tone.

"Pardon?"

He let out a rueful huff. "Do you know, it's a wonder anyone has ever called me charming," he muttered.

She couldn't help but laugh.

"I try to be?—"

"You are."

"I'm not. Around you, my head gets all muddled."

Her lips parted, but he gave her no chance to respond. "What I'm trying to say is, I'd appreciate it if you made a list of what you do enjoy and what you don't."

She was speechless. No one ever cared about her preferences to such a degree. Not outside of her friends, at least. She gave her head a shake. "And you wish to do this because…"

"You were smiling in there." He nodded to where she'd spent the better part of an hour feigning enjoyment. "But you were not happy. And it became clear to me that Everson meant well, but…"

She nodded. Yes. He had meant well. But his special care for her comfort had made her feel like more of an oddity than a cherished guest.

"It made me wonder…" Ian shifted, his expression contrite. "Did I do that?"

She frowned, but couldn't summon an answer quickly enough. Her mind had gone back to their time in the park. He'd been so nervous about walking with her, but as soon as she'd explained that it was good for her, he'd let her lead the way—literally and metaphorically.

"I did," he said. "And I'm sorry. But watching you and Mr. Everson also made me wonder…what do you wish to talk about and what do you like to do."

"You…you were watching us that closely then?" Oh drat. Her cheeks were growing too warm. Her voice had been too thin and quivering.

It was tinged with hope , that dratted nuisance of an emotion.

Before she could cover for her slip, he answered. "I was, yes."

"Because…" She wet her lips. "Because of your plan to make me seem more attractive to others?—"

"No."

That was it. The word felt ominous and terrifying and beautiful all at once.

No? What did that mean?

The doors behind them opened and her father came out with one of his friends. His eyes gleamed with approval at the sight of them together.

"We ought to get back inside," she said.

His scheme was a dangerous one, and she well knew it.

It was a dangerous game they played with society, and with her parents. But most of all…with her heart.