“Can you solve it, Mr. Nix?” Louisa asked pertly. Anyone looking at the man could tell he didn’t have a clue.
“I fear,” he said with a grimace, “Lord Hammersley and I were distracted with conversation.” They weren’t. Both had listened attentively, but Louisa allowed him the fib to save his pride.
“That is unfortunate,” she told him with forced sweetness. “I wonder if the Duke of Claremont can unravel the words.”
Bella snapped her gaze to Rhys’s. Louisa had no notion that reading had once been his torment and that he often doubted his ability to think quickly. It was why he’d helped her construct her riddles. Together they’d discovered that he was actually quite skilled with words, as long as he didn’t have to confront them on the page. Though in time, he’d gotten better at that too.
“I already know the answer,” he said, his gaze still fixed on Bella. “I was there when Miss Prescott came up with this conundrum.”
“You helped,” Bella insisted.
“Very little.” He grinned and then settled back in his chair, hands clasped over his waistcoat as if he was suddenly completely relaxed. “You’ve never really needed my help.”
“That’s nonsense.” Bella scooted forward on the chair she occupied, prepared to argue with him. But then she noticed the hush in the room. Everyone had turned their attention to her exchange with Rhys.
“I think I may have it,” Lord Wentworth said into the silence.
Louisa shot him a pleased look and nodded encouragingly. “Then tell us, my lord.”
“Thread gives it away, does it not?” He looked around at the other gentlemen. Hammersley and Nix wore a matching frown. Bella’s mother smiled knowingly. Perhaps she recalled this one too.
As soon as she and Rhys came up with a day’s worth of riddles, they’d share it with her parents.
“Go on,” Louisa urged Wentworth.
“Is it pin and needle? One has a head, the other does not, and only one goes on thread.”
Louisa clapped and Bella joined in. It wasn’t a terribly challenging riddle, but Wentworth had been quick. Hammersley and Nix grumbled individually and then leaned in to grouse to each other.
“Shall we have some music and dancing?” Bella’s mother stood and approached a footman standing sentry near the door. “If you’d all be so good as to stand, we’ll make a bit of room and I’ll take a spot at the piano.”
Louisa usually played when they had a musical evening, but everyone had agreed that leaving Bella alone to dance with each gentleman in attendance would be awkward, to say the least.
Everyone obeyed her mother’s command and stood. Another footman appeared and the two young men quickly moved both settees to the sides of the room to create space to dance. In the flurry of activity, Bella didn’t notice that Hammersley had ambled toward her.
“Miss Prescott, may I claim the first dance?” He was so earnest in his request, Bella was tempted to agree but before she could form a reply, Rhys approached as if summoned.
“I’m afraid that’s already been claimed, Hammersley.”
The older man’s face reddened like dinner’s wine and his jowls began to quiver like the aspic Rhys loathed. His mouth worked as if he wished to protest, but no words emerged. Just sounds of frustration.
Rhys reached his arm out in front of the viscount’s chest and offered Bella his hand.
“Forgive me, Lord Hammersley. I will save you the second dance.”
Rhys took her hand and led Bella to the center of the room while Louisa and Mr. Nix stepped into place beside them. Soon after, Bella’s mother began playing to cue them that the dance would soon begin. Bella had requested a waltz. Her mother hadn’t known at the time that Rhys would accompany her, but she looked distinctly unsurprised.
“You didn’t have to promise him anything,” Rhys told her as he rested his hand at the small of her back.
“There’s no point in being impolite.”
“Bella, you want him to leave your home because he’s overcome with irritation and disdain.” He didn’t speak the words with any anger or judgment, just his usual good humor and enough of a smile that a dimple flashed at the corner of his mouth.
“Leaving must be his choice. My goal is to avoid adding any more men to my list of refusals if I don’t have to.”
“Are our dancers ready?” Bella’s mother didn’t wait for an answer before beginning to play. The music started with an introductory trill and then the smooth insistent rhythm of a waltz emerged.
Rhys led without a moment’s hesitation, as if he’d danced the waltz a thousand times. Bella had danced often, but she still counted the steps in her head. It calmed her and was the one way she could be certain her feet would obey. With Rhys so near, she needed all the calm she could muster. The warmth of his palm against hers and the grip of his hand at her back made her intensely aware that they were connected, moving as one. She had to trust him to lead and move them in sync.
“It bothers you what others say,” he said while he swung her around in counterpoint to the movement of Mr. Nix and Louisa, who came toward the front of the room as they moved back.
“That I’m cold and heartless?” Bella started to stumble and gripped his shoulder tighter.
He pulled her an inch closer, keeping her steady. “You’re not.”
Of course she wasn’t. He knew her too well to believe she was icy and uncaring. What he didn’t seem to understand was that he was the reason she couldn’t bear the thought of marrying another man.
When she said nothing, his cool blue gaze bored into hers and his brow twitched upward. It was the look he’d always given her when he was pressing her, waiting for her to answer.
“Why do you refuse them all?”
No, not that question. She wasn’t prepared to offer him that answer tonight.
Suddenly, she wanted the dance to end. He held her too close, so near that his scent filled the air. His hands scorched her where he held her and the warmth building between them made her breathless. Even the movement of the dance made her dizzy. She tried focusing on his face but all she noticed was the room whirling by, the pale faces of Hammersley and Lord Wentworth in the background, and the figure of Louisa dancing gracefully in Mr. Nix’s arms.
“Arry,” Rhys spoke her nickname tenderly, his breath fanning against her cheek. “Speak to me.”
He was taller than she was by just enough inches that she had to tip her head back when they were this close. She squeezed her hand reflexively and the muscles of his shoulders bunched and shifted.
“I need to concentrate when I dance. If I don’t, I’ll miss a step.” She was breathless now, her skin heated from exertion and the tall, broad wall of Rhys’s body moving in time with hers.
Rhys drew his hand up her back and leaned in to whisper. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
But she had. She’d fallen so hard for Rhys that she feared she’d never be able to pick herself up again. She remembered every clawing, painful step of the climb. And here she was. With the same man and the same feelings welling up inside her.
She couldn’t let it happen. She’d learned her lesson. Never again would she allow herself to fall. Another rejection from him wouldn’t hurt, it would crush her.