Beatrice attempted to muster a smile, but it did not meet her eyes.
“I am. Or was…but something has shifted,” she confessed. “I do not know quite what, but I can feel it.”
As she said so, her gaze trailed to her left. It did not go very far though before Algernon suddenly pulled her tight to his chest, making her gasp and turn her sight up at him.
“Ignore it,” he calmly commanded, swaying her softly. “Whatever it is you may feel is going wrong, ignore it.”
She gave him a frustrated look.
“It is not that simple,” she whispered. “The whispers… I do not know why, but I feel as if they are turning on me.”
“The only whispers out there are of your great beauty,” Algernon replied, and the praise astounded her.
“You… you said I look like a cake,” she stammered out, feeling excitement and warmth tingle from the palm of her hands all the way up her arms and into her chest.
Algernon smirked.
“You do,” he said wryly. “But a very beautiful cake. One that is certainly most delicious.”
Beatrice blushed furiously at his words. She had met many sides of Algernon. The strong, brooding silent type most knew. The overprotective, but surprisingly gentle side of him. But this version? The one that said such provocative flirtations? This side of him flustered her most of all.
“You should not say such things,” she whispered, losing focus on those surrounding them entirely.
“Why not?” Algernon purred, his eyes drawing slowly down her person. “They seem to elicit such delightful reactions.”
Beatrice felt her mouth go agape as heat spiked through her core.No. Stop. This is wrong. I am to feel this way for Henry, not Algernon!
Yet as she willed her body to stop reacting so strongly, she found her efforts futile.
“You enjoy it,” Algernon mused, a wicked smile slowly forming on his lips as he continued to lead her. “I can see it written so very plainly on your pretty face that you like what I say.”
“What has come over you?!” Beatrice whispered vehemently.
“What is the matter?” Algernon mused. “Do you find yourself distracted?”
Beatrice drew in a shuddering breath, her heartbeat picking up speed as she picked up the purely seductive tone in his deep voice. She should push him away. She should tell him to stop, to remind him that it was Henry she was supposed to be distracted with. Yet as she spoke, those were not the words she let loose.
“Of course, I am,” she whispered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Of course, I am,” Beatrice whispered, and Algernon shuddered with desire at the breathiness of her tone.
He was playing with fire. No, he was dancing within its flames, purposely drawing himself to the burns that would no doubt come, but in that moment it did not matter. What mattered was keeping Beatrice distracted from the negativity that was slowly taking over the crowded ball. Simeon had been right. His rumors had spread viciously quick. Far quicker than the positive ones Algernon or Henry had tried to spread.
That was the way the rumor mill of thetonworked though. The good was buried. The bad was praised. Anything to distract society from their bored lives.He hated them.
“When is Henry coming back?” The slight worry in Beatrice’s breathy tone had a pain slice through his chest.
He might hate theton,but he did not hate his brother. However, he was growing increasingly frustrated with him. Particularly for breaking his promise to Beatrice though the fact that he had so openly lied to her did not sit well with him either. Algernon knew his brother. Knew him well enough to assume that he would not be seen for the rest of the night as he took care of his ‘business.’
Still, as much as he was aggravated with Henry, Algernon knew he could not tell Beatrice the truth either. It was Henry that had to confess, not him, as much as he wanted her to know the truth.
“Business matters can unfortunately arise at any time and take many hours,” Algernon begrudgingly replied. “It is likely that we will not see him for the rest of the night.”
To his surprise, Beatrice looked relieved to hear such a thing. It was not an apparent expression, not openly identified by just anyone, just to someone who had studied her face as very carefully as he had. The subtle lowering of her shoulders, the slight lean into his hold as they finished the dance. The little crease above her brow that smoothed out. He saw it all.
“I am happy you have had a good time this evening,” Algernon stated, leading her into the final step of the dance, “You have handled this party such beautiful grace. There is no shame in leaving it early. Going home and resting instead of taking the chance of letting the night sour for some reason or another.”