Page 67 of The Countess Caper
“It’s not like that.”
Lord Kensington cocked an eyebrow at her. “If you say so.”
It was a lovely dream, especially here in this glittering place full of diamonds and bared teeth. Sneers that looked like smiles. To have someone stand with her. Her. Messy and flawed.
A dangerous dream. She had no business letting it turn her head. She needed her wits about her. He married you because you are easy to leave behind.
She promenaded with Lord Kensington, followed the turns and skips of a country dance she barely remembered. The music filled all the spaces between the yellow flowers, and she realized she had missed it. Maybe they could find a proper pianoforte for the house. Maybe Fergus knew how to play the fiddle.
“There,” Lord Kensington said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was a pleasure, Lord Kensington.”
He grinned. “I haven’t seen Roarke dance since he was a boy. For that alone, I thank you.” He bowed. She curtsied. When the others joined them, Lady Kensington claimed her husband for the next dance.
“I do like him,” Tessa said.
Roarke glanced down at her. “Is that right?”
“He puts people at ease.”
“He also shrieks when he sees a mouse.”
Tessa burst out laughing. Roarke smiled briefly, as if that had been the goal. As if he had been a tiny bit jealous, just enough to make her feel chosen, not trapped.
“Perhaps he was eleven years old at the time,” he said grudgingly.
“I’ll allow it.”
“Did you want to dance again?”
She laughed again. “I might have if you hadn’t just sounded like you were offering to chew rusty nails.”
He winced. “I apologize.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Dartmoor, will you dance?”
She squeezed his arm affectionately. “No, thank you.”
“I am fairly certain you love to dance.”
“I do.” She shrugged. “But you don’t, and I don’t remember all of the steps to this reel anyway.”
He placed his warm palm over her knuckles, keeping her hand in place for a longer moment. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m a wonderful liar!”
“For a highwaywoman,” he whispered, “I expected better.”
They grinned at each other, and she could almost forget where they were.
“How about some champagne, then?” he asked.
She made sure her voice was just slightly louder than necessary. “I’d much prefer punch, my lord.”
His bark of laughter took her by surprise. It took him by surprise too, if his expression was anything to go by. In fact, it took every guest within hearing distance by surprise.
She’d never felt more powerful. Or smugger, truth be told.
Across the sea of diamond hairpins and pomaded curls, Lord Kensington caught her eye and winked. “Winking at another man’s wife,” Roarke grumbled, heading toward the refreshment tables.
