Maybe much like her sisters, she wasn’t meant for a love match. Respect and friendship might be enough.
Unfortunately, the heaviness surrounding her heart made that impossible to believe. Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe.
Dunthorpe cleared his throat. “Nice weather today, eh?”
“Yes. Quite nice.” She glanced at him. “It feels as if spring is definitely underway.”
“Indeed.” He nodded, continuing the dance. His gaze darted about as if he were trying to think of another topic to discuss.
The idea of conversations like this over the dinner table for years to come was daunting. How did her sisters manage it? She clearly needed to pay better attention.
Finally, the never-ending dance finished, much to her relief. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, certain her smile was brighter as escape was near at hand.
“Thank you, Miss Davies.” He escorted her off the dance floor. “Might I fetch you a glass of punch?”
“Oh.” Millie frantically weighed the options. Saying yes meant he would depart immediately only to return. Saying no meant the possibility of him remaining by her side to converse. Neither was palatable. “Yes, thank you. I am quite parched.”
“Excellent.” Dunthorpe glanced about and nodded in the direction of the refreshment table. “I will return directly.”
Then he left her standing alone.
Moments like this were unwelcome, at least for her. She detested being by herself at balls or any social event for that matter. If only Dunthorpe had escorted her to her mother’s side, but she wasn’t in sight. No doubt she was somewhere nearby speaking with friends.
After a moment or two of feeling awkward, Millie searched for her, preferring to leave Dunthorpe to look for her rather than remain by herself any longer.
“Good evening, Miss Davies.” Winston sauntered over to stand before her, a careless smile on his face.
“Lord Linford.” She resisted the urge to press a hand to her suddenly racing heart. “What a surprise. You rarely attend balls. At least unless there is a wager involved.”
Winston grimaced. “Not one of my better decisions.” He shrugged. “An unfortunate result of too much drink when spending time with the wrong people.”
Millie lifted a brow. “Are you admitting a wrongdoing?”
“I am.” His gaze met hers, the vulnerability in them catching her off guard. “I’m not above admitting to a mistake. And I apologize. You and your friends deserve better.”
She could only stare at him in surprise. Admitting he was wrongandapologizing? Who was the man standing before her? “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I’m pleased you see the error of your ways.”
“In that case anyway.” The droll way he spoke had her laughing in response. “Can’t reform too much in too short of a time. People might begin to expect more of me than I’m willing to give.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“Exactly. Glad you understand.”
Millie laughed again. “You are incorrigible.”
“I won’t deny it.” He gave a single nod then leaned close. “So tell me, how was your dance with Dunthorpe?”
“As well as can be expected.” She hoped her expression masked her true feelings. It wouldn’t do to give him too much information.
He frowned. “Which is?” he prompted.
“Here you are, Miss Davies.” Dunthorpe thrust the glass of punch at her, the pink liquid splashing alarmingly close to the rim.
“Thank you.” She quickly took it, hoping to prevent it from spilling.
“Linford.” Dunthorpe dipped his head. “Nice to see you again.”
“Sure.”