Ten Ways to Ruin

Miss Drake must be warned about the man with whom she danced. Slowly, he made his way to the edge of the dance floor as the couples moved to the beat of the music. The damned set was taking far too long. Who knew what disreputable things Simpson might be saying to her?

Simon gulped the remainder of his brandy as he continued to watch them. Nothing on her face indicated her disapproval of Simpson. She smiled up at her dance partner as if she had no idea of the man’s reputation.

As the music ended, he breathed a sigh of relief that Miss Drake had ended up closer to his side of the floor. He snaked through the crowd, keeping his sights on her golden curls.

Reaching the couple as they walked off the dance floor, he called out, “Miss Drake, I do believe this is our dance.”

Her expression turned from a smile to a frown of irritation as she noticed who had called out to her. Color rose on her cheeks as Simpson leaned in closer to her ear. She gave him an annoyed wave and walked toward Simon.

“Mr. Kingsley,” she said with a quick curtsy. “I do not remember agreeing to a dance tonight.”

“Ah, you wound me, angel. How could you have forgotten our dance so quickly?”

“I believe I may have already promised another,” she said, quickly turning on her heel as if to get away from him.

He reached out and clasped her arm. “I believe you are mistaken. This is unquestionably our dance.” Pulling her closer, he whispered, “Do not make a scene.”

“Why are you doing this? It is highly irregular.”

“I need to speak with you, and dancing is the safest option for us both.”

She turned and gave him a hard glare. “Why?”

“Dance with me and find out.”

“Very well,” she conceded with a hint of curiosity in her voice.

He drew her near and inhaled the scent of lavender on her skin. Unfortunately, he realized this was a country dance and not a waltz as he had hoped. Miss Drake lined up across from him and gave him a quick curtsy as the music began. She wore a very pale pink satin gown with silver embroidery on the bodice. For some reason, it made her seem even more petite and innocent than usual.

A sense of protectiveness overcame him.

He shook off the feeling as quickly as it had come over him. He wasn’t a gentleman to care about wh

at ladies of the ton did. So why did Emma’s speaking with Simpson bother him? He could have just as easily given the account of her dancing with Simpson to Harry and Louisa to let them handle the situation. But he felt the urge to warn her himself, even if he didn’t completely understand why.

With no chance of speaking until they could get close, he concentrated on watching the other dancers farther up the line. He had no wish to embarrass her with his clumsy steps.

As they came together, he commented, “How exactly are you acquainted with Mr. Simpson?”

Her eyes widened as they circled each other and then narrowed. “I met him this evening.”

“Odd,” he replied. “So, how exactly do you know him?”

“Why do you ask?”

They moved back to their position in line, forcing him to remain silent again. These damned dances created so little time for conversation. It wasn’t as if he could take Emma to a room for a quick private chat. Finally, they came together again.

“The man is a reprobate. I cannot believe anyone of your acquaintance would even introduce you to him.”

Miss Drake tilted her head and leveled a smug, little smile at him. “I introduced myself to him.”

Simon almost stumbled but recovered quickly. “You what?”

“Hush,” she scolded as they moved back in the line across from him. She glared over at him. “I would be much obliged if you would keep this quiet.”

What the bloody hell was she up to? No lady introduced herself to any man. Those rules were in place to keep a woman safe from the undesirable men of the world. This dance was taking far too long, in his opinion.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” he asked as they met in the middle of the dance floor.