Focusing on Edmund, seeing he was pleased with how well she’d performed, she admired his bow. She curtsied in response, and her first dance ended as a success.
Smiling beautifully, glad it had gone well, Arabella thanked him. “Mr. Jenkins. I am very grateful to you for your patience. And you, Mr. Harrow,” her eyes took in the arrogance, the dark smirk of the tyrant, “for the entertainment.”
Edmund offered an elbow. “Shall I escort you to the card room now, your ladyship?”
“That would be lovely.” Tucking her arm through his, they turned their backs on the spiteful duo and left the floor.
Mrs. Jenkins intercepted their path, eager to claim the baroness in a situation where she might make proper introduction to the neighborhood’s grander ladies. Trapped in the hall making small talk, dances came and went, Lilly elegant and coveted as a partner, and Lizzy enjoying the fun as well.
She was constantly surrounded by a slew of women, for Edmund, always a gentleman, had a duty to dance if there was a young lady in hopes of joining the set. Mr. Harrow, on the other hand, did not follow protocol. In fact, he spent the better part of an hour glaring at Arabella from across the room with all the charm of Lucifer.
Once Edmund thought to break from the dancing, the instant he took a step toward Arabella, Mr. Harrow was hard on his heels.
The eldest Jenkins sister was thrilled. “Mr. Harrow,” Lilly preened, certain he had come to claim another dance. “You seem well pleased with yourself tonight.”
Black eyes deigned to glance down at the glowing young lady. “Looks can be deceiving. In fact, tonight I feel utterly antagonized.”
“Is that why you have not danced again?” Lilly teased. “It cannot be for lack of a partner, as there are several young ladies in attendance.”
Snide, he scanned the room and answered. “Yes, and all very sweet in their pale dresses.”
Oblivious to the flat tenor of his mocking, Lilly pouted prettily. “Then what displeases you?”
Looking back to the angelic faced woman, he smiled brilliantly. “I find myself in want of a waltz...”
The listening ladies all tittered at the thought. All save Arabella.
Excited, Lilly spoke behind her fan. “You know they would never play one at a public assembly. It would be scandalous.”
“And would that not make it all the more fun?”
The master of ceremonies called out the next dance and the room went quiet.
“Ahhh.” Gregory Harrow’s smile became predatory. “What are the odds?”
Lilly began to blush, looking up with eager eyes, broadcasting the only way she could that he could have her at one word. But dark eyes left her face, and with a hand reaching forward, Gregory demanded the attention of another, “Lady Iliffe, shall we?”
Astounded, Arabella declined. “You know I do not know how.”
Utterly arrogant, Gregory announced in a conspirator’s whisper, “Actually, I know better than anyone that you do.” Vicious eyes flashed and all pretense of a smile left his face. “And you will.”
Glancing to the area cleared for dancing, Arabella was surprising to see how many couples willingly began to muster. Impatient, Mr. Harrow took her fingers, pulling the baroness past the aghast and horribly disappointed Lilly.
“I cannot do this.” Arabella was horrified when he placed them at the center of the melee.
Gregory already had his hands at her waist and yanked her closer, a possessive gaze silencing pointless complaints. Positioning her at his hip, he growled in approval as her hand slipped around his back in a mimic of what she had seen before. “Did you really think you would not be punished for dancing with the simpleton?”
“I will dance with whomever I please.” Quiet as she might, she snarled, pretending dignity with so many watching her.
The music began, his touch firm as he led her. “Then, should I dislike it, prepare for the consequences.”
In a nasty hiss, she countered, “You cannot be so ridiculous. I didn’t want to dance with him any more than I wish to do so with you, you tyrant. There was no getting out of it.”
He turned her and when they were practically chest to chest, her hands trapped behind her, he secretly ran his thumb against the small of her back, breathing over her lips. “Am I to ask your pardon?”
Green eyes flashed. “Yes.”
“Are you aware that by dancing with only one gentleman, you have broadcasted your favor for Mr. Jenkins?” His hand became bolder, tracing over her rear as if by accident. “I find that unacceptable. How else shall I punish you? Shall I pull you into a dark corner, White Woman?”