still a most intriguing conversation. She’d have liked to continue it, but the musicians were playing the final notes of the waltz, and before she knew it, Mr. Hunter was leading her off the dance floor.
“Shall I escort you to your mother?” he inquired.
Kate glanced to where her mother stood in a small gathering of her friends. Several gentlemen were standing nearby, quite obviously waiting for Mr. Hunter to deliver Lady Kate into her mother’s care.
“I think perhaps I could use another glass of lemonade,” she declared.
“You must be exceedingly uncomfortable by the end of these events.”
She glanced up at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“How much food do you have to consume in your little ruse to keep the gentlemen at bay?”
She opened her mouth, closed it again. Was there nothing the man missed?
Mr. Hunter steered her around a small grouping of chairs. “Are you going to tell me I’ve mistaken the situation?”
She thought about it, and decided there wasn’t any point. They’d both know she was lying. “It isn’t necessary that I consume it,” she replied with a shrug. “I need only be near it.”
“That’s it?” he asked with a quick look at the men standing near her mother. “They’re as easily frightened as that?”
For some reason, she felt the need to come to the defense of her suitors. “Occasionally, I have to actually hold something.” She smiled as they reached the refreshment table, remembering a ball in her second season. “I chased off Sir Patrick Arten with a cream pastry once.”
He laughed softly and lowered his arm. “As much as I would like to hear the details of that spectacle, I’m afraid I’ve engaged another young lady for the next dance.” He bowed low. “Lady Kate, it was a pleasure.”
He turned and walked away, and it took an enormous act of will for Kate not to gape at his back. Good heavens, had she just been dismissed?
Yes, she realized as he crossed the room without a single backward glance, yes, she had been. Kate frowned after him. She’d never before experienced dismissal from a gentleman, and wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. After a moment’s consideration, she came to the conclusion that her pride and confidence were still perfectly intact, but she was rather disappointed.
They’d shared a lovely waltz and one of the most entertaining conversations she’d ever had with a man, and then he’d simply walked away…to dance with someone else. How disheartening.
Mr. Hunter was allowed to dance with whomever he chose, of course. She certainly didn’t expect him to stand about speaking to her the entire night. But would it have killed him to give some indication he’d enjoyed the dance as much as she? True, he’d said it had been a pleasure, but everyone said that. She’d even said it to Mr. Marshall, and he had a tendency to spit when he spoke.
Confused by his sudden lack of interest, and her sudden increase in interest, she continued to watch as he made his way to a small group of young women standing at the edge of the ballroom. Recognizing the women, Kate clenched her jaw in annoyance.
If he had given up an opportunity to discuss rakes and debauchers with her in order to dance with Miss Mary Jane Willory, she was going to…Well, she couldn’t think of anything she could do, actually, except staunchly refuse to ever dance with him again. Miss Willory was a malicious creature. A nasty, selfish, snobbish, cruel and—
She broke off her mental diatribe when she recognized the young woman Mr. Hunter led to the floor not as Miss Willory, but Miss Rebecca Heins. That changed things entirely.
Kate didn’t mind being dismissed for the likes of Miss Heins. She was a tremendously sweet young woman with an unfortunate propensity for underestimating her own worth. That propensity and its accompanying shyness had consigned Miss Heins to the position of wallflower since her first season.
As Mr. Hunter and Miss Heins began the first steps of their reel, Kate remembered something her brother’s wife, Mirabelle, often said. The very best gentlemen were those who made a point to dance with at least one wallflower at every ball.
Did Mr. Hunter dance with a wallflower at every ball? Having taken pains not to pay attention to the man, she couldn’t say. But he was dancing with one now, which counted for something—
“He’ll notice if you keep staring.”
Kate snapped her eyes away from the dance floor to find her cousin, Evie, standing next to her.