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“Indeed,” Theodore said absently. He was half listening to his friend as his eyes trailed Asmont and Agnes’s dance, a frown forming on his forehead.

“Good heavens, man. Put back those daggers,” Anthony’s gaze finally followed Theodore’s to the dance floor, noting his friend’s intense expression.

“Asmont isn’t holding her properly. It’s too close,” Theodore observed, his voice stiff with disapproval.

“It’s a quadrille, Gillingham. Not a waltz. That isn’t too close,” Anthony chuckled, trying to ease his friend’s concern with a dose of reality.

Theodore disagreed silently, his gaze fixed, his mind not quite assuaged by Anthony’s reassurances. The distance seemed far too little for comfort, and every step they took grated on him like discordant music.

CHAPTER 35

“Imust confess I did not expect to see you back in Town, Lady Gillingham,” Asmont said to Agnes as they danced. His gaze seemed somewhat searching, as if trying to discern her thoughts.

She refused to let it disconcert her as she politely responded, “We couldn’t miss our dearest friends’ ball, Lord Asmont.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, nodding slightly as they continued their steps in time with the music.

“Besides, Town is where the entertainment lies, is it not?” Agnes added, now employing an air of nonchalance, her tone light, almost teasing.

“The entertainment is already drawing to a close, I’m afraid,” the Earl said with a hint of regret. “But it’s been a memorable season. Full of wedding bells too,” he added, his gaze fleetedbehind them, perhaps catching a glimpse of other couples or reminiscing the recent joyful occasions.

It WAS a memorable season indeed, Agnes inwardly agreed. But she felt conflicted. If only she could make more GENUINE memories with her husband, memories not shadowed by the demands of society or the whispers of scandal.

“I am certain that if your husband could, he would pull you away from this dance floor right now,” The Earl suddenly said as though he’d somehow read her thoughts. His voice was low, almost conspiratorial.

Agnes gave a sheepish chuckle as she glanced in the direction where they’d left Theodore. Catching sight of him, she noticed his intense focus on them. Her husband’s gaze was dark, and she wondered what was wrong, what thoughts were brewing behind those stormy eyes.

The cheerful demeanor she’d left him in seemed to have dissolved completely. As they danced, Agnes noticed his smiles had faded, replaced by a distant, pensive expression.

A part of her worried if he was all right, a small knot of concern forming in her stomach. Agnes found herself very much distracted for the remainder of their dance, her thoughts repeatedly drifting back to Theodore, wondering about the sudden change in his mood.

She was relieved when the dance finally came to an end, and the Earl courteously returned her to her husband. She neededto know if all was well, to understand the cause of his unspoken troubles.

“I did not keep your wife for too long, Gillingham,” Asmont said in good humor as he handed Agnes over, his voice carrying a jovial undertone.

“It took you long enough to bring her back,” Theodore responded curtly, his voice devoid of humor. In fact, his tone was all but curt and accusing, a stark contrast to the light-hearted atmosphere around them.

“You should hold onto that jealousy, Gillingham,” Asmont laughed, dismissing the tension as he bid them a good evening and excused himself, seemingly unaware of the seriousness of his words.

Utterly perplexed now, Agnes turned to her husband. But before she could pose any questions, he abruptly said, “We’re leaving.” His voice was firm, allowing no room for argument.

She hastily bid Frances and Emma goodnight, her farewells brief and distracted, before following her husband out of the Preston house. Her mind was a whirl of confusion and concern, eager to understand what had transpired in her absence to cause such a sudden departure.

In the carriage, she asked, “Theodore, what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he murmured, looking out the window.

“Are you certain? I left you cheerful, and now you are as dark as a storm.”

“It is late, Agnes. It’s high time we returned home anyway,” he said stiffly when she inquired about their sudden and rather early departure.

“Late?” She echoed in disbelief, her voice rising slightly in her astonishment. “Do you hear yourself, Theodore?”

He ignored her for the remainder of their journey, his gaze fixed out the window, leaving her to stew in her growing frustration and confusion.

Back home, she followed him to his study, determined not to let the matter drop. The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn, and Theodore stood by the fireplace, his back to her as he stared into the flickering flames.

“Gillingham,” Agnes finally ran out of patience, her voice firm and carrying a hint of reproach. He regarded her now, turning with something akin to surprise in his gaze as if he hadn’t expected her to follow him into his sanctum.