Husband Wanted (HC #1)

15: A Sway in the Ballroom

When John drew them to a stop, he frowned for a moment, looking between his injured leg, the crutch, and Beth. He tucked the end of the crutch under his arm, bending that arm at the elbow.

"Lady Elizabeth?" he asked gently.

Beth placed her hand in his, trying not to think about the heat that bloomed in her fingertips, and raised her left hand to rest on his shoulder. His right arm found its way to her back, settling just beneath her shoulder blade.

Then he straightened, pulling them both into a proper posture and even closer together.

Beth gasped, the added breath pushing their chests to touch, and then she let out a nervous spurt of laughter. John wasn't laughing though, merely peering down at her through his lashes as he began to sway them both from left to right.

"I believe I was too stunned to tell you earlier," he said softly, his words fluttering across Beth's cheek, "but you look absolutely beautiful."

Beth was thankful her feet were planted, otherwise she might have tripped. Her blush returned at full force, this time starting in her chest and moving in all directions, and she couldn't find anything to say or do. Surely this was too intimate for a ballroom! She wanted to pull away but instead her hands tightened on him.

She made the mistake of meeting his eyes as her jaw opened and closed, but instead of helping her find words, his gaze seemed to melt what was left of her brain. They burned. And then they flicked to her mouth.

Beth had never kissed a man, but suddenly it was all she could think of. What did it feel like? What would it taste like? What would John taste like?

John looked away suddenly, clearing his throat and holding her slightly farther away. He swallowed – once, twice – before he could speak.

"I'm sorry, that was... uh..." He swallowed again.

Beth was so greatly relieved that it wasn't just her mind that seemed to be at a loss. She quested around the room, looking for a safer topic of conversation. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Thomas.

She said as much to John, grateful to be able to string a sentence together.

He followed her gaze. "Glad to see him in one piece."

Beth frowned slightly. "You were worried for him?"

They swayed for a moment as John tossed up what to say, his head tilting too and fro. "Perhaps not worried, just... cautious. His father seemed every bit as callous as promised." This last was pitched low, so there was no risk of being overheard.

Her frown deepened. "Do you have any memory of him?"

John shook his head, but didn't offer further comment. Not wanting to pry, Beth looked back at Thomas, surprised to see him standing exactly as he had been. He was towards the back of the crowd, not engaged with anyone, and almost entirely shadowed by the balcony above. He was looking up, across the room, his gaze unwavering.

Almost to herself, Beth said, "Who is he watching?"

John glanced towards him again, but the way they were positioned meant he couldn't see where Thomas was staring. The best he could do was twist slightly, offering Beth a better view around his broad form. Her gaze trailed higher, towards the balcony, looking for anyone she recognised, or who might be doing something unsavoury to earn such unyielding observation from their new friend. There were a few matrons, enjoying the view of their young charges and their partners, and an older couple talking as they leant against the railing, and then...

Beth leant back to the side abruptly, shielding herself from view behind John. His grip on her tightened fractionally, concern clear on his face as he looked at the shock on hers. She had paled dramatically, all remnants of blush now fully deserting her, and her breathing was shallow.

"Beth, who is it?" John demanded in a harsh whisper, worry sharpening his tone. He made as if to turn around and look for himself, but Beth's hands quickly moved to grip his shoulders.

"No, don't," she practically snapped, "He's watching us."

Despite propriety, John pulled her closer towards his chest, the hand on her back, sinking fractionally towards her waist. "Who? Duke Thorne?"

She shook her head, raising her gaze to his. Instead of his green eyes, she saw a dark pair staring back at her. She blinked them away.

"Lord Henry Thorne," she swallowed, "Thomas' brother."

John stilled suddenly. "His brother?" He shook his head. "He didn't look familiar either... I thought I'd at least recognise the person... I mean whoever..."

Beth's grip tightened again, though this time to give him a little shake. "We don't know that he's involved or – if he is – how he's involved."

Finding him watching them had thrown Beth. He'd been leaning on the railing, so casual that she might have almost mistaken him for Thomas, but his dark stare hadn't been jovial. Even from that distance there had been something... unsettling... about it.

She couldn't help but shiver.

John nodded suddenly, removing his hands from her. Beth was suddenly cold and fought off another shiver.

"I think we could both do with a glass of punch." He punctuated the statement with a nod. Rather than offering her his arm, he gestured for her to move first. She was relieved, because though she couldn't help but look back to check if Henry Thorne still watched them, she didn't want to see that dark expression again. Instead, she only saw John.

They received a few odd looks as they exited the dance floor – mid-song and both looking more than slightly alarmed – but Beth gestured to John's foot and tried to appear sympathetic. "I only hope he has not injured himself further," she simpered at a matron that gave them a particularly high-arched brow. It appeared to satisfy the woman, and they quickly found themselves at the drinks again.

Beth declined punch, accepting a glass of water from the footman again. Though John's foot was an excellent excuse for a hasty exit from the waltz, she did look at it again now, wondering if it actually pained him. She leant forward to ask as he straightened from the punch bowl but was distracted by a deep cough from behind her. Turning in surprise, Beth came face to face with a mop of short, reddish curls already in a deep bow.

The hair straightened to reveal Lord Pendrake.

"Good evening, Lady Elizabeth."

Oh dear.

"You look absolutely lovely this evening."

Oh dear!