“Pardon me.” Rowles didn’t spare a glance for his friend, but sidestepped and started to navigate the perimeter of the dance floor, flicking attention from his path to the person at the end of it.

As he neared, the lady beside Joan whispered something softly, earning a nod from Joan, even though her attention never wavered from his.

“Good evening, Lady Joan.” He bowed crisply.

“Your Grace.” Joan curtsied, followed by another greeting and curtsy by her friend.

“Allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Bronson.” She stepped to the side and gestured to the other lady. She was a classic English beauty with curly brunette hair, dark-brown eyes, and porcelain skin, but she didn’t compare with Joan, in Rowles’s opinion.

Of course, Rowles was fascinated with far more than Joan’s feminine beauty; he was also captivated by the mind it harbored.

“A pleasure, Miss Bronson.” Rowles bowed to her as well.

“The honor is mine, Your Grace,” Miss Bronson added, all politeness and refinement.

“And how are you this evening?” Joan asked, her expression curious and still slightly suspicious.

It was nothing less than what was his due.

“I’m well, but I shall be decidedly better if you allow me a dance, Lady Joan,” he requested, flirting boldly.

Joan’s expression softened. “It would be an honor, Your Grace.” She offered her dance card, and he quickly selected two, not caring that would likely lead to talk.

Let them talk, speculate, and gossip.

Tomorrow he’d be talking with her brother about securing her hand. Until then, let the others assume all they liked.

“And you, of course, Miss Bronson,” Rowles offered. At her pleased nod, he selected the cotillion for his dance with her. “May I offer either of you lemonade, or something else to drink?” he asked.

Joan covered her mouth with her gloved hand, as if the pleasure in her expression was too much for polite society. “Yes, indeed. Thank you, Your Grace.”

Miss Bronson replied, “Yes, thank you, Your Grace.”

Rowles turned and made his way to the refreshment table, selecting two glasses before returning. As he handed the glass cups to the ladies, the quadrille’s music began to play.

“Ah, Lady Joan, I do believe this is our first dance.” He offered his hand.

Joan handed her cup to Miss Bronson and took his offered hand as he led them to the dance floor.

Grasping her hand, he swung them in a turn and released her, switching partners with the couple beside them. Belatedly, he noted they were partnered with Lord Archby and a young lady he’d not yet met. Archby beamed at Joan, familiar and warm. Rowles’s chest tightened with jealousy, but he tamped down his rather uncivilized emotion and as Joan returned to him, he pulled her in slightly closer for their turn, earning a dancing look from her, one that held a hint of daring and understanding.