Page 29 of From Unwanted to Duchess
He offered his arm, and the two of them walked away from the gossiping group.
“I do not know how to dance this dance,” she said quietly as they approached the floor.
“It is not difficult. Just follow my lead. I take it you were somewhat uncomfortable back there? You looked it. In fact, you looked like quite the damsel in distress.”
“I assure you, I was not in distress, nor am I a damsel,” she replied. “But I do appreciate your interrupting the conversation. It was most unpleasant.”
“Were they talking about the shooting?”
She looked up at him as the music started, and he placed his hands on her waist, guiding her into the steps. “Yes. Do you suppose it was the man we saw?”
“Must’ve been,” he said grimly. “He was going in the direction where the gunshot came from, and we heard it moments later. Poor boy. I wish he had listened to me. But I suppose it cannot be helped now.”
“No, I suppose not,” she sighed. “What a dreadful business.”
“Pray, what did they say?” he asked. “Lady Foxworthy and Lord Holmquest?”
Frances shrugged as they danced, her feet following his lead more easily than she had expected. “They could not agree on who fired the shot. But they referred to the crowd as peasantsand all manner of things, as though the people protesting were less than human.”
“I see. Well, do not let them upset you. Lady Foxworthy is only one generation removed from being a commoner herself, and Lord Holmquest is… shall we say, not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”
She looked up at him sharply, her lips pressed together. “Why are you seeking to comfort me now, when you haven’t spoken to me in days?”
He ground his teeth, a muscle working in his jaw. “I am merely being kind. I am capable of it. Besides, I am not usually the sort who enjoys company. I have had to put on a mask since arriving at my godmother’s house.”
“Is that so?” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “But you seem rather a master of debate for someone who does not enjoy company.”
He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. Then she saw him glance to the right. Two other attendees had joined Lord Holmquest, and now they were all chattering away, their laughter carrying across the ballroom.
“You do not care for him, do you?”
“No,” James said flatly. “He was a friend of my brother’s. Not that I dislike all of my brother’s friends, but him…” He shuddered.
“I heard about what happened to your brother. What a terrible way to die.”
His head snapped toward her, and his eyes narrowed, his grip on her waist tightening slightly. “My brother’s death was a tragedy. I am not inclined to discuss it.”
“I beg your pardon, I meant no offense,” she said quickly, feeling as though she had been slapped.
“None was taken.”
They continued to dance, but Frances did not speak further. She had said the wrong thing and somehow upset him.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned his brother at all. But it had seemed a natural turn of conversation, given they had been discussing death and tragedy.
In any case, she allowed him to twirl her across the dance floor. A couple of times, they switched partners, only to be reunited again a second later.
Every time she returned to his arms, there was a sense of relief because at least he knew how to lead her properly. With him, she didn’t have to worry about treading on toes or missing steps.
Still, there was also some discomfort. The same discomfort that had bothered her when they had first met. Something heavy hung between them. What a puzzle he was.
However, it wasn’t what bothered her most. It was the thoughts of the poor midshipman. The young man they had met moments before he was shot to death. And the way these titled people had spoken about him, as though he were only a byproduct of their quest to prove that those who were not of higher birth were beneath them. As though his death mattered less because he was not one of them.
“I did not mean to upset you,” James said quietly, his voice barely audible over the music.
“You did not,” she replied, looking up at him. “I was thinking of the poor lad who was shot. And how tragic it is that he will never have the chance to live his life.”
“It is tragic, indeed. Any death is a tragedy. Well, most are.”
