Page 14 of A Single Obsession

As Eliza wondered what she could do to set things right, her gaze fell on Anthony, who was standing nearby, talking to his brother. As soon as he finished speaking, she beckoned him with a look.

He obediently took a step toward her.

“Mr Warren, have you come to claim your dance?” she said with a confidence she was far from feeling. She beseeched him with her eyes to play along and stand up with her for the next.

“Could I forget?” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on her gloved hand.

“How could you remember?” she said under her breath, biting back a smile.

“You know it is usual for the man to do the asking,” he said as they moved toward the set that was forming.

“You need not have accepted if you did not care to dance with me.”

“And give you a set-down in front of such an audience? I am far too gentlemanlike to pursue such a course of action.”

“What a blow to my vanity. You act to preserve your own character and happen to save mine in the process.”

Anthony’s nose twitched with amusement. “Rogue! And how is my little rebel enjoying her first London ball? Done any more dressing up recently?”

Eliza’s smile vanished. She refused to answer.

“You look magnificent when you try to ignore me.”

“Stop it. You promised.”

“I vowed not to tell, not to keep quiet about it.”

“That’s not kind. Quit teasing me or I’ll never dance with you again.”

Anthony pouted, but his eyes were still laughing. “That would be a shame. You’re an excellent dancer. Georgiana moves well, but you seem to float around the ballroom floor.”

“Next you will say I dance like an angel,” Eliza said, with a note of mock despair.

“Oh no. Who uttered such a commonplace compliment as that?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I haven’t danced with a single gentleman I know, apart from you. My head is swimming with the names of all the people I’ve met. How am I supposed to remember who anyone is?”

“You mean you didn’t learn who all the eligible gentlemen were beforehand? You shock me. I thought that was required learning for every young lady making her debut. But I don’t think you need to worry. Remembering who people are is overrated. Just continue looking beautiful and keep that sweet smile on your lips and you’ll do fine.”

“You really think so?”

“Forgetting their names—as long as you forget all their names—and asking to be reminded with a tender apology will make them eager to become the one you remember in the future.”

Eliza bit her lower lip as she considered his response. She half thought he was jesting, but it was not a bad idea to admit her inability to distinguish one gentleman from another. She had no desire to be courted by any of them, and it might dissuade them from trying.

When the dancing drew to a close, Anthony accompanied her into the supper room, filled her plate, and then sat beside her recounting amusing stories of his exploits while they ate.

As most of his tales included Beau, Eliza was content to listen, but she could not stop herself wondering what had become of him.

Beau wished he hadn’t spotted that purple turban, but it was too late now. He cast a wistful glance across the ballroom to where Anthony stood before resigning himself to the inevitable. Sure enough, as he turned back, he met his mother’s glare full on.

As was her habit, she summoned him to her side with just a look, and in the interests of self-preservation, Beau changed direction to obey the parental summons.

He stopped in front of his mother, who was standing with Lady Whitlow, and bowed. “Good evening,” he said with a nonchalance he was far from feeling.

Lady Harting looked him up and down and gave a nod of approval. It was the tiniest of movements, but he saw it because he was looking for it. He let out the breath he had not realised he was holding, glad to know he had passed muster—for now, at least.

Her eyes narrowed. “What a pleasant surprise to see you, Beaumont.”