Dancing with the Viscount (Howertys Prequel Novella)

Chapter 7: All Wrong

If he was forced to attend more balls and social events than he normally would, at least he could do his best to enjoy them. Preston smiled down at the young debutante he was dancing with. When Amelia had teased him about enjoying dancing, she had been correct. He did. So if she made him go to these balls to act like her lovesick beau, then he might as well dance. Two dances for Amelia, the rest he was free to dance with whomever he so chose. Currently, it was a Miss Angelique Grafton, the younger sister of James Grafton, Viscount Gowthorpe. She was perhaps a little out of practice on the dance steps, but a pleasant enough conversational partner that he did not mind.

Amelia had been strangely distant with him since the ball the previous week when she had gone home with a migraine. Not distant enough to entirely ruin the impression that he was courting her, but he could tell the difference. There had been no impromptu visits to his house. No private chats in the corner of a ballroom. She'd even declined when he'd sent a note asking if she wanted to go for a ride in Hyde Park.

Something was definitely up. He just could not figure out what it could be. So far, he had done everything she had asked of him. Admittedly, somewhat grudgingly, but he felt justified in his reluctance. Why was she avoiding him? A quick glance confirmed that she was currently dancing with Pensington. Was it progressing better than he had realised? That could explain why she had not sought him out. If her plan was working, he would soon live out his usefulness. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. No. He did know, he just didn't particularly wish to dwell on it.

The dance ended, and he brought his dance partner back to her brother, then left after a curt bow. He'd seen Amelia sneak out into the garden, so after grabbing a glass of punch, he walked over to the open back doors and followed. Hopefully, she had not snuck out to meet Pensington for a tryst. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, which he tried to wash away with a mouthful of the sweet punch.

The white of a dress disappeared around a row of rose bushes as he came outside. What was she thinking, walking away from the house and the lights? If anyone discovered her out here with a man, it would be quite the scandal. He debated whether he should go back inside to ensure he was not the one caught with her but decided against it. Having been out in most of these gardens in the past, he knew a lot of the areas where one could hide from view and could probably save her if someone came too close.

Stepping off the terrace and out into the garden, the grass crunched under his feet as he followed the path Amelia had taken. It took him a few minutes of searching, but he eventually found her pacing back and forth inside a natural gazebo of ivy and clinging roses. Muttering under her breath, she did not see him at first, allowing him a moment to watch her undisturbed.

In the dusky evening, her dark brown hair appeared almost black while the skin by her neckline was almost translucent in the pale moonlight seeping through the gaps in the leafy gazebo. With her white ball gown, she looked like a ghostly spirit as she strode from one side to the other, over and over.

Taking another sip of his drink, he then cleared his throat. She jumped, her head turning to stare at him.

"Preston!" She sighed. "You gave me a scare."

"Beg your pardon," he mumbled as he leaned lightly against one of the wooden posts creating the foundation of the gazebo. "Is something the matter?"

"No, not at all." Something in her tone belied her words, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Are you certain? I feel like you have been avoiding me lately."

"Have I?" she asked, her tone light. "I had not realised."

Lifting the glass to his lips, he took another swig. She was definitely acting odd. "Are your plans with Pensington proceeding so well that you no longer need my help?"