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 said. You chose to make this agreement with my uncle, and in doing so, ensured that I would be subject to all that comes with being your betrothed.”
Timothy did not know what response to give, realizing that she was correct in all she said but strongly disliking the feeling that came with it. Clearing his throat, he tried to change the subject.
“Mayhap you would like to take a turn about the gardens?” he suggested as Lady Newfield drew near them. “It is not too cold and can sometimes be refreshing after a dance.”
Miss Mullins waited for a moment, seeing Lady Newfield nod, and then accepted with a murmur and nothing more. Timothy looked around him and saw the ladies whispering behind their hands or the fans that hid twitching lips. Clearly, there were many of the ton speaking of them, but he had to lift his head and refuse to allow such a thing to be of any importance to him whatsoever.
“Just this way,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the door before them. Keeping his head held high, he walked towards the open doors, knowing that Lady Newfield was walking behind them. It was something of a relief to step out of doors, to feel the cool wind brush his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he looked down at Miss Mullins and noticed, for the first time, just how tightly she held his arm.
“I am sorry,” he muttered, but Miss Mullins merely shook her head. There were other guests walking to and fro in the well-lit gardens, for there were even footmen standing with lanterns to keep the path clear.
“It is good to be outside for a time,” Miss Mullins said softly. “I confess that I—”
“Lord Coventry?” A gentleman laughed hard as he knocked into Timothy, making Miss Mullins stumble. “Whatever are you doing here?”
Timothy felt his stomach tighten, anger beginning to grow within him. “I have been invited,” he said firmly. “Do excuse me. I—”
“But you are out walking in the gardens with a young lady!” said the gentleman, his face a little shadowed in the darkness, meaning that Timothy was unable to recognize him easily. “That is most improper, Lord Coventry!”
Stiffening, Timothy drew himself up. “If you would excuse me,” he said grimly. “My conduct is none of your concern, besides which, I think you will discover that I have a chaperone for the lady in question.”
The gentleman became silent for a moment and, in that second, Timothy heard Miss Mullins gasp. Spinning around, he looked desperately for Lady Newfield, realizing that she was nowhere to be found.
“Most improper,” the gentleman murmured, his voice now low and threatening, no hint of laughter in his voice. “How can you be walking with a lady without a chaperone?”
“I have a chaperone,” he heard Miss Mullins say as panic began to grip him. “She must have been delayed.”
The gentleman cackled. “Or mayhap deliberately waylaid,” he said with a sneer in his voice. “I am very sorry indeed, miss, but I must find someone to accompany you to ensure your reputation is not damaged—although it is certainly stained already simply with you being present here alone with this gentleman.
Miss Mullins’ hand tightened on Timothy’s arm once more, and Timothy felt his rage begin to burn. “I do not know what you intend or who you are,” he said, stepping forward and grasping the gentleman by the jacket. “But I shall not allow you to say anything about this particular young lady, not when we are quite correct in our conduct.”
The gentleman grappled at his jacket, but Timothy held on all the more tightly, feeling his frustration burning hotter and hotter.
“Who sent you to do this?” he asked, fearing that someone had been watching him, hoping that he would step outside with a lady simply so that a situation such as this could occur. “You have been waiting and watching for me, no doubt, and I would presume that someone else has been hoping to rid us of our chaperone for a time so that we would have no other choice but to listen to whatever your demands now are.”