Rowles turned to Joan and offered a reserved nod. More than anything, he’d love to secret her away on some balcony and talk, but even a trespass so innocent would ruin her reputation. So he settled for the next best option.

“Care to take a turn about the room?” he asked, then offered his arm.

“I’d be delighted,” Joan answered, her eyes darting to her brother, as if challenging him to forbid it.

Rowles swallowed hard, knowing that the road ahead wouldn’t be an easy one.

But worth it.

Entirely worth it.

They took a few steps and Rowles turned to her, his watchful eyes drinking in the sight of her so near. “And how are you enjoying your evening?”

She looked to him. “It is improving as it progresses.”

“I hope that’s not because Archby asked for a dance.” Rowles playfully growled the words, earning a soft laugh and a delighted grin from Joan.

“And what if it was?” she flirted, her eyes sparkling with merriment.

“I suppose it’s your choice, even if it would be a poor one.” He shrugged one shoulder, playing along.

“Oh? And do you think you can persuade me otherwise?”

Rowles turned her, pausing in their progress along the room. “I’d certainly be up the challenge, my lady.”

She frowned slightly, then sighed. “Explain yourself.” She started forward again, and he moved to keep pace with her. “Your swiftly changing decisions concerning myself are quite opposing, so much so I feel like the rope in a game of tug-of-war.”

Rowles chuckled, but without mirth.

She halted and watched him.

“It was an apt metaphor, Lady Joan,” he admitted. “And much kinder than I deserve.”

“On that we are in agreement,” she said, and then her expression softened. “I dislike games, Your Grace. So please, do not use me as a pawn in one of them. Be honest. And tell me with your words, rather than a look.”

Rowles’s forehead knit as he considered her words. Was he so easily read?

He regretted the populated ballroom, the listening ears and gossiping lips that were only a polite foot away. “There’s much to say, but in the correct setting, Lady Joan. And I promise you,” he vowed, waiting till she met his eyes, “your questions will be answered till you are satisfied.”

She took a deep breath, then nodded. “Thank you.”

Rowles wanted to give her something, though, some honesty to hold to while she waited; it was the least he could do.

“I suppose it would be wise to give you the time to consider not how I feel about you, Lady Joan, but how you could potentially feel about me. And in answering that question, you might find more of the answers you seek. Because while we spoke of women, rights, value, and futures, I want you to know that as far as I am able, you will decide yours.”