Page 7 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

Lady Cavendish gasped and raised her head, her green eyes flashing.

“Are you all right, Charlotte?” Lady John stepped forward, her lips puckered as if trying to hide a smile.

“Yes, I am fine, Jane. I stepped on the hem of my gown is all.” She cut her eyes at Nash and her lips thinned to a line. “Thank you, my lord, for coming to my rescue.”

Nash smiled. Even angry, the woman was a vision to behold. “Not a’tall, my lady. Glad to have been of service.”

She seemed to collect herself and returned his smile, albeit tentatively.

There would be no better time to make his request. “My lady, I would be honored if you would dance the first set with me.”

Her smile widened. “Thank you, my lord. I would enjoy that.”

He’d enjoy having her in his arms again too.

“Lady Cavendish?” A blond young man in elegant evening dress had approached so stealthily behind her, neither he nor the lady had noticed. He touched her elbow and she whirled around.

“Oh, Mr. Garrett. You startled me.” The pink had returned to her cheeks.

The buck immediately grasped her hand and had the audacity to kiss it. “My sincere apologies for that, my lady. It is nice to see you again.”

“As it is to see you as well.” Her voice had a high pitch, but a sweet tone, lilting and light. It suited her down to the ground. “Do you know Lord Wrotham?”

“I have not had the pleasure, I believe.” Garrett nodded his head briefly, his eyes still on Lady Cavendish.

“Nor I, Mr. Garrett.” Nash bowed, then straightened to his full six foot three, pleased to see he looked down on Garrett by a couple of inches.

“It has been several months since we met, I think, Mr. Garrett?” She clutched her fan, but smiled politely.

“March, I believe it was. And I am come to claim my dance as promised.” His eyes glinted when her jaw dropped.

“Your dance, Mr. Garrett?” Her brows puckered and she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t recall we spoke about a dance.” The lady shot Nash a fleeting look, but he was unsure if it was a plea for help or an apology.

“I remember it distinctly, my lady.” Garrett claimed her gloved hand and squeezed it gently. “You said you would be glad when you could once again be out in society and that you couldn’t wait to dance.”

“Well, yes, I may indeed have expressed such a sentiment. But that did not mean—”

“To which I replied that I would be honored to partner you at the first opportunity. Then you smiled and nodded and thanked me.” The blackguard raised his eyebrows, affecting an innocent air. “What else was I to assume except that you had given me permission to seek your first dance?”

She fidgeted, almost dancing now. Her eyes had the wild look of a horse ready to bolt.

Well, if she didn’t want to dance with the man, he’d make sure she didn’t have to. “I’m afraid her ladyship has just engaged herself to me for the first set, Garrett. Perhaps her second is still free.” Nash took Lady Cavendish’s hand from the man and turned them toward the floor, where the orchestra was tuning up.

“The thing is, my lord,” Garrett stayed him with a touch on his wrist, “I have the prior claim.”

Nash stared into the insolent blue eyes and forced himself not to call the man out. He’d really like to pummel him into the floor, but such tactics were for the battleship, not the ballroom. He shook off the man’s hand. “The lady has not acknowledged that, sir. I think I will take her version of the events.” Nash glanced at Lady Cavendish, whose face had paled. “Are you all right, my lady?”

She started, as though coming out of a dream. “Yes, I am fine. Something reminded me—”

“That I am supposed to be your partner. There, Wrotham, the lady herself has said it. Are you satisfied?” Garrett nimbly plucked her hand out of Nash’s grip and before he could protest, whisked her out to the area where couples were making up the first set.

Stunned, it took Nash a second to register what the rogue had done. He started toward the dance floor, mayhem in his heart. He’d show the scoundrel how they took care of such slights in the Navy.

A hand on his shoulder made him swing around, his own hand coming up to fend off this new menace.

“Steady, Wrotham.” George Abernathy held on to him and turned him away from the eyes that were beginning to take notice of him. “He’s not worth starting a brawl that will get you banned from Almack’s.”

Nash exhaled sharply, hot blood still pounding through his veins. Another breath and he was closer to control. His friend was right. He didn’t need to start a scandal that would help neither him nor Lady Cavendish. He glanced at Lady John, who had paled, a wan smile pasted on her lips.