went a shade of bright red and she turned her head away. He noticed how she clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, her back still ramrod straight.
Clearly, she had seen how he had behaved with Lady Rachelle.
“The lady I was speaking with was a friend of mine,” he told her, wondering if this would put her at ease. “She, along with the rest of society, decided that I was not fit for their company any longer after Lord Chesterton blamed me for his injuries.” One shoulder lifted in a half shrug and he could not help but smile. “It seems now that she has decided she was wrong to do so and has come to reacquaint herself with me.”
Miss Mullins’ expression was tight, her eyes flashing. “I see,” she said without a hint of true interest in her voice. “I do hope that you enjoyed your conversation with her.”
“I did,” he said, bristling. “Very much. Now.” Standing up, he held out his hand. “Shall we waltz, Miss Mullins?”
He did not wait for her to respond but instead pulled at her hand as she began to rise. Within a moment, he had pushed her hand through his arm and was now marching towards the middle of the room. There were many other couples already in position and he struggled to find a space suitable for them both. Upon doing so, he bowed to Miss Mullins, expecting her to bob a curtsy, only to see the whiteness in her cheeks and the way her eyes flared wide.
Anger still burned in his chest, and as the music began, he pulled her to him, holding her in the correct position. She was stiff and unyielding but he did not care, waltzing with confidence and poise. Much to his relief, Miss Mullins was not a poor dancer but went with him without struggle, allowing him to lead her and never stumbling. And, as they continued with the dance, Timothy’s anger began to fade away. Yes, he reasoned, Miss Mullins had spoken sharply, and yes, she had not acted as he had expected, but had he not treated her unfairly by not even noticing that she sat near to him? That he had grasped Lady Rachelle’s hand when he knew it was something he ought not to do? Sighing heavily, Timothy looked down into Miss Mullins’ face and, for the first time, noticed the fear that lingered in those green orbs.
Shame struck his heart. He had used his strength to pull her into his arms, practically demanding that she dance with him when she might very well not wish to do so. Had he not just proved to her that he was just as unreasonable as her uncle? That he was just as cruel?
“I am sorry, Miss Mullins,” he said, seeing how her eyes darted to his, her body beginning to relax a little in his arms. “I should not have pulled you up to dance. I should have waited for you to agree.”
Miss Mullins pressed her lips together, turning her head away. “I am sorry also, Lord Coventry,” she said, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear. “I spoke without any consideration or care. I should not have done so.”
He wanted to tell her that she had nothing to concern herself with, that there was nothing for her to apologize for, but instead, he kept his mouth closed and merely nodded. The dance continued, and something more began to fill Timothy’s heart. Instead of anger, there came a warmth that washed over him. The nearness of Miss Mullins to him, the way she had now relaxed in his arms, the tentative smile that tugged at her lips when he looked down at her—it all was having something of a profound effect on him.
“Everyone will be speaking of you, Miss Mullins,” he said as the music came to an end. “I am sorry for it.”
She shook her head and then curtsied. “There is nothing that you need apologize for,” she told him, taking his arm without hesitation. “If we are to court and then become betrothed, I must become used to the ton speaking of me, must I not?”
It was a truth he did not like and certainly did not appreciate. “I feel responsible for placing you in such a position.”
Miss Mullins looked at him, her eyes a little wary. “I will not remove such a responsibility from you,” she told him slowly. “For there is a truth in what you have