The Convenient Felstone Marriage (Whitby Weddings 1)

‘Won’t you dance with me first?’ She put a restraining hand on Percy’s arm.

He looked incredulous and she laughed, hooking her arm through his playfully. ‘Why not? We haven’t danced together in years. Please?’

‘Oh, all right. One dance.’

She smiled with relief, making a brief curtsy to Sir Charles before pulling her brother away.

‘Don’t you have a dance card?’ Percy looked at her quizzically as the orchestra struck up a waltz.

‘Yes.’ She tapped her reticule. Not that anyone had put their names in it yet. A few of Sir Charles’s friends had seemed on the verge of asking for a dance, before a look from him had seemed to dissuade them.

‘No takers, eh?’ Percy shrugged. ‘Not that it matters. You’ve already hooked Charles.’

‘Mmm...’ She tried to sound nonchalant. ‘Speaking of Charles, perhaps you shouldn’t play tonight.’

‘What, you mean cards? Oh, I won’t, not much, though it’s good of his friends to invite me.’

‘Do you have enough money?’

‘Charles will spot me if I run short.’

‘I thought you already owed him money.’

‘Is this why you wanted to dance?’ Percy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘So you could lecture me?’

‘I just don’t want you to get into trouble.’

‘Well, I won’t.’ He spun her away from him roughly. ‘And I don’t need my sister nagging me about money either.’

Ianthe glanced around nervously. As usual, Percy was doing nothing to moderate his opinions and his raised voice was already starting to attract attention. ‘I only want to help.’

‘If you really want to help, then you know what to do.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘I’m serious. Charles is going to ask you to marry him tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ She almost tripped over his feet.

‘Yes, and I expect you to be sensible. If you refuse him then I wash my hands of you.’

‘Percy!’ She gasped aloud, heedless of the heads now turned towards them. ‘You don’t mean that!’

‘Don’t I?’ He turned on his heel, throwing her a petulant look before stalking angrily away, leaving her stranded and partnerless in the middle of the dance floor.

Ianthe stood frozen with shock, feeling as though she were caught in a trap. Surely Percy didn’t mean it, wouldn’t really disown her? But then she’d never have thought that he’d deliberately embarrass her in public either. People were already staring, some sympathetically, others nudging each other and smirking. She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to sink down in a heap and start crying. Percy might have humiliated her, but she wasn’t going to show everyone how much he’d upset her, not here in front of an audience. At the very least, she had to get off the dance floor.

She took a step forward and then stopped. Sir Charles was standing straight ahead on the very edge of the dance floor as if he were simply waiting for her to come to him, thin lips curving in a smile that sent chills down her spine. This was the real trap. And there was nowhere to run, no other option, none except...

Strong fingers closed over hers suddenly, spinning her around as another hand clasped her waist.

‘What...?’ She looked up in panic, pulse quickening as she met a pair of familiar grey eyes.

‘I saw that your brother was indisposed.’ Mr Felstone gave her a dazzling, white-toothed smile before throwing a withering glance at a particularly inquisitive couple beside them, enough to make all the other dancers lower their eyes at once. ‘If you’ll permit me the honour of a dance, that is?’

She nodded mutely, too surprised to answer, feet moving instinctively to the music as her mind struggled to keep up. Where had he come from? In her turn around the room, she hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of him, however much she’d told herself she hadn’t been looking. Now the very touch of his hand seemed to steal her breath away—not to mention his appearance, starkly handsome in elegant black-and-white evening clothes. The swooping sensation in her stomach was back with a vengeance, as if her insides were dancing along to the music as well. She wouldn’t have believed such a feeling was possible, not with Percy’s threat to disown her still fresh in her mind, and yet the sensation was even more powerful than before. How could she feel so upset and so giddy at the same time?

‘Thank you.’ She managed to croak out the words at last.