A Hero for Lady Abigail (A Wallflower's Wish #5) - Maggie Dallen Page 0,5

had remembered him.

“We were first introduced at the Marquess of Arundel’s house party last spring,” he said. “But I do not recall having had the honor of a dance before.” Her answering smile was still blindingly beautiful, but alarm bells rang in the back of his mind at the laughter he saw there in her eyes. This laughter was at his expense, he’d bet his quaint little cottage on it.

Also, she refused to take the bait, such as it was. “Did we not?” she asked lightly.

He stifled a huff of exasperation. This woman didn’t need saving. No man would dare to touch the daughter of such a powerful man. He’d been hoodwinked. Tricked into a dance he’d never requested. But why?

His mouth pressed into a firm line. Clearly subtlety would not work with this minx. “Perhaps you can explain why we are dancing?”

She furrowed her brows as though the question perplexed her. “Why not dance?”

He held in an irritated breath. “Most ladies give a gentleman the opportunity to ask.”

She sniffed, her nose lifting in the air. “I’m not most ladies.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said, his own mouth turning down. He might not know her well, but he definitely knew her type. Beautiful, rich, entitled, shallow, and full of herself. Despite her beauty, she was everything he was not looking for.

“Are you?” she gave him a sly, satisfied smile. “Then I’m glad you asked me to dance.”

He quirked a brow but didn’t bother to point out, again, that he hadn’t asked her to dance. But he could confess, at least to himself, that she was an excellent dancer. They moved across the floor in an effortless grace that somehow made him feel lighter. Like he hadn’t been weighted down by years of struggle.

He shook his head, banishing these thoughts. Dancing was a short activity that would soon be over. What he wished to build was a life.

His gaze lifted to the woman he’d meant to ask for this dance. The one for whom he’d attended this ball. The one he’d earmarked as a potential choice with whom to build his future.

Miss Charlotte was dancing with another man, her smile sweetly shy rather than boldly confident. He watched her spin around, her chin angled down toward the floor. His own jaw clenched.

“Who are we looking at?” Abigail tapped his shoulder. “I’m always curious to know the gossip of the day.”

“Gossip?” he asked, frowning. “I’m afraid I don’t have any. I’m not much for spreading rumors.”

Something in her smile softened then. “How...sweet.” She shook her head. “I only assumed because your gaze was so fixed.”

His mouth opened and then closed again, for the first time, he considered that he might be behaving impolitely to the woman he danced with. He’d conceded to the dance, after all, and so he owed her his attention. “My apologies, my lady. I was on my way to ask another—”

Abigail’s face turned to granite before his eyes. Her features were the same, high cheekbones, small straight nose, but somehow her eyes had lost their sparkle as everything about her hardened. “I see.”

Alex could have kicked himself. No one wanted to feel like a second choice, and though he’d felt nearly accosted by this woman, he was a gentleman and she a lady and she deserved his most respectful treatment. He gave her his best smile. “But I am most fortunate to be in your company.”

She relaxed in his arms again. “And I yours.” She tilted her chin down and looked up, the effect coquettish and disarmingly flirtatious. “It was a pity we never had the chance at the Arundel party.”

The memory of that fateful event made Alex smile. It wasn’t every day one watched one’s strong, fierce, war-hero friend fall head over heels in love. It had been highly entertaining to see. Max had married exactly the sort of woman Alex hoped to find. Marigold was a sweet and lovely girl, perfect for Max. They were both good people of high quality. Max had recently helped Alex invest his savings with amazing results.

She tipped her head to the side. “If I recall, you were rather interested in Marigold.”

He quirked a brow. He did like Max’s wife a great deal, but part of his interest had been in showing Max that Marigold had been perfect for his friend. “Are you friends with the new Marchioness?”

Color tinged her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “Not exactly.”

They passed by Charlotte and her partner, her brown eyes catching his for the