Page 17 of Victorian Bride

“I think you will soon find it filled,” Lottie said, grinning at her.

As though the words were prophecy, Kayden appeared through the crowd, headed their way. Mya could not bring herself to think of him strictly as Lord McGregor, though she knew that she ought to, considering his station was well above her own, and a slip as intimate as calling him by his given name after only two meetings might well start the kinds of rumors that were very difficult to stop. But Lord McGregor just felt...wrong. Kayden was the name that kept sighing across her thoughts and echoing in her dreams. Just Kayden.

“Miss Boyle,” Kayden said when he was standing between them and the milling group on the dance floor. “Miss Donald.” He dipped his head to each of them in turn. “Miss Alan. Miss MacLaren.”

“Lord McGregor,” they greeted, more or less in chorus.

He swept into a bow. “I was wondering, Miss Boyle, if I might have the honor of dancing with you at your next available convenience.”

“With pleasure, Lord McGregor,” Mya said. “That convenience is, in fact, now. No one asked me to dance the Schottische.”

That was not strictly true, but it was likely better than admitting that she had turned away more than three prospective dance partners in order to leave the slot open. That was not the kind of behavior considered acceptable in polite society, and she well knew it.

“Then I shall be glad to escort you to the dance floor,” Kayden said with a handsome smile.

He straightened, and Mya rose, only to pause as he turned and bowed to Agnes. “Miss Donald,” he said. “Perhaps I might be permitted the pleasure of dancing with you after this round?”

Agnes giggled, her cheeks turning pink. “I would be more than happy to give you a dance, Lord McGregor,” she answered, her voice fluttery despite her best efforts to keep it under control.

As they turned away from the little group of women at the edge of the room, Mya smiled. “She will remember that for a long time to come.”

“I am only doing what is expected of me,” Kayden said.

Mya almost stumbled as her feet momentarily stopped moving and the rest of her body went on without her. Just doing what was expected. Her jaw tightened. “Is that all it is, then?” she asked as they promenaded onto the dance floor. “Doing what is expected?” She looked up at him. “Do you take no joy in it at all?”

“No more than the joy of something right done well.”

She ought to have known better than to accept his invitation. Condescending arse. They would see how much joy he got out of it when she stepped all over his toes.

Chapter 8

“If you say that to Agnes,” Mya said as the dance began, “so help me, I will find a way to push you down the hill behind Lottie and Eleanora’s house. Head first.”

Kayden's eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile that wasn't sure yet whether or not it ought to appear. “Say what to Agnes, for heaven's sake?”

“That rot about only doing it because it's what is expected of you and the joy of something right done well. It’ll make her cry, and I will hate you for that.”

“Rather a strong opinion over nothing more than proof that I am a well-mannered man,” Kayden said, his voice curt.

Mya trod rather heavily on his toe. He startled backward, obviously surprised that she had done such a thing, and almost stumbled into the couple behind him. His eyes narrowed as he stared down the bridge of his nose at her. “Was that purposeful?”

“Purposeful?” Mya looked up at him with an innocent expression copied wholesale from Lottie. “I have only had less than a week to learn how to dance. And I have just come off more than a week of convalescence following an arrow to the shoulder. Which, might I add, you found and therefore certainly know about. It is hardly my fault I am a terrible dancer. I don’t ever remember dancing before this.” She stepped on his toes again. It was the perfect dance for it; there was a great deal of skipping about.

“I have danced with cows more graceful than you are,” Kayden said, the hand on her hip tightening as they spun together, lifting her half off her feet for a moment so that she was hardly standing on them. Mya viciously ignored the little sparks of warm desire that his easy display of strength sent racing along her spine. She was not going to think about how she desired him. Or the dream. And she was absolutely not going to allow him anything more than the single dance that she had agreed to give. When that was done, it would be goodbye and good riddance.

“If you are so lacking in interesting female company that you are practicing your romantic overtures on cattle, I think it is you, and not I, who are troubled.”

She wished she had the proper angle to accidentally stick an elbow in his ribs.

What was expected of him indeed. Poor Agnes.

And as for herself, well, she had known from the beginning that he was hardly deserving of her time. She would finish her dance with him and move on, and later she and Lottie and Ella could laugh at his ridiculous pompousness. It didn't hurt her one bit that he felt the need to behave as though the entire world revolved around his will, and his deigning to notice those beneath his feet was a magnanimous gesture.

“What exactly is it that you dislike about me so?” Kayden demanded.

“For one, you are utterly conceited,” Mya said. “And for another, I cannot believe you would ask me to dance and then act as though I am, at best, some kind gesture you are making for the good of your social life!”

The words were a little louder than was perhaps prudent, and Mya saw more than one head turn. Kayden said nothing, and eventually the nearby dancers went back to their own business.