Worse, he saw no resolution to his cursed predicament. He damned well had no desire for marriage, yet he couldn’t deny the primitive, purely masculine urge to “carry Roslyn back to his lair,” as Heath had put it. Or at the very least, to hold her in his own arms again.
But then, Drew realized, firmly tamping down his lust, it was perfectly proper for a gentleman to hold a young lady at a ball if he danced with her.
Roslyn did not look happy to see him, Drew noted when he came up to her at the conclusion of the quadrille and interrupted her lively conversation with Haviland to claim her for the next set.
“You don’t mind if I steal her away for a dance, do you, my good man?” Drew asked, making the point moot by taking Roslyn’s elbow possessively.
The earl gave him a piercing look, but then bowed with good grace. “As you wish, Arden. I don’t want to monopolize Miss Loring’s time, despite the pleasure it gives me. And I have other guests I must see to.”
Drew knew Roslyn couldn’t very well argue with him, either, as he led her onto the floor for a waltz.
“What if I mind?” she said then, her tone exasperated.
He returned an innocent look. “Do you have some objection to dancing with me?”
“Of course I do. Winifred has been matchmaking again. She sought you out to beg you to partner me, didn’t she?”
“Well, yes,” he answered truthfully, “but I chose to ask you.”
“You might have done me the courtesy of giving me a choice.”
“You could have refused.”
“Not without causing a scene.”
“Which you are in danger of doing right now,” Drew pointed out, “since the music has begun and we are simply standing here.” When she gave a guilty start, he took her hand and drew her close. “Smile sweetly, darling, and look as if you are enjoying yourself.”
Roslyn complied, even though the light in her eyes suggested she was ready to do battle with him. Drew smiled to himself. The enjoyment had returned to the evening, unquestionably. In fact, he was enjoying himself for the first time since their awkward parting nearly a week ago.
She fitted into his arms quite well as they settled into the rhythm of the waltz, her steps light and graceful. He wondered if Roslyn would follow his rhythm as well when they made love.
If they made love. Which would never happen without the benefit of marriage, as Heath had rightly pointed out.
“So why don’t you wish to dance with me?” Drew asked, determined to confront her misgivings and get them out in the open.
“Our lessons are over,” Roslyn replied primly, as if she had rehearsed her answer. “There is no point in us even seeing each other again. Certainly we are not required to dance together.”
“It will only help your consequence if you are considered the object of my attentions. You do want to impress Haviland’s relations, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, but you interrupted a highly promising conversation with him.”
“That was precisely my intention.”
Her eyes flashed. “Are you purposefully trying to spoil my chances with Lord Haviland?”
“What if I am?”
“You wouldn’t…” she began, then eyed him suspiciously. “Would you?”
“That would be ungentlemanly of me,” Drew equivocated. “But it won’t hurt for him to think he has competition.”
Her expression was full of irony. “You are not his competition. You have made it abundantly clear you aren’t interested in love and matrimony.”
“But he doesn’t have to know that. Take my word for it, a man can become extremely possessive if he thinks someone is poaching on his turf.”
Drawing a deep breath, Roslyn made an apparent attempt at composure. “Thank you, your grace, for your concern on my behalf, but I will proceed with my campaign on my own from now on.”
“What gratitude,” Drew drawled, amused.