Joan’s face heated as her look flashed to the duke. Rowles was engaged in conversation with another gentlemen beside him and had apparently missed the entire interaction.

Disappointment filtered through her.

He truly wasn’t interested in her, then.

She didn’t wish for such an answer, but the unknown was far worse than the known.

With renewed interest, she offered shy looks to several other gentlemen, all of whom approached her and asked for dances as well. As the music for the cotillion began, she departed for the dance floor on the arm of Lord Archby.

Joan didn’t need to force a delighted expression as she enjoyed the dance, since Archby was an excellent dancer. He even offered to procure her some lemonade after the dance.

“It’s awful, but if it will allow me one more moment to stand by your side, I’ll do what I must,” he said with a flirtatious smile.

“When offered in such a way, how could I refuse?” she flirted back, thankful for the distraction.

The evening progressed, and she danced, ate, and chatted, all with the duke nearby but never truly engaging her unless absolutely necessary.

It was awkward, stilted, and dreadful.

The final dance was a waltz, and no one had requested it, likely because her brother stood nearby, a silent sentinel of protection.

“I don’t believe this dance is spoken for?”

Joan turned to the duke, her brow furrowing in confusion. He’d hardly spoken to her, and now he wanted the most intimate dance? What sense did this make?

She had the inclination to refuse him, but in truth, she didn’t want to say no. She wanted to feel his hand at her waist. Her fingers itched to rest upon his shoulder, and her ears burned to hear his voice.

“Of course,” she whispered.

He offered his arm, and she placed her hand on his jacket, welcoming the warmth radiating from him. The strings led the rhythm as he pulled her in close, his hand branding her waist as he held her gloved hand. He met her eyes, and she was powerless to turn away, even for a moment, as he led them into the swirling dancers. Her heart sang, her body hummed with pleasure as if a missing piece was suddenly put back in place. Eyes drifting closed, she gave herself over to the moment, living for it, knowing it was all one-sided, all on her side.

But that mattered not. She would savor the moment, the dance, and then she would move on.

What other option did she have?

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she met his look with a confused one of her own. “Pardon?”

“Forgive me.” His words were raw, and at once, she saw the truth of them, of the words he wasn’t saying.

It wasn’t one-sided after all.

But then…why? And why the apology?

She voiced her query. “For?”

He glanced away.