Page 30 of The Governess’ Unlikely Suitor (The Dashworth Brothers #2)

The man was frowning at him, clearly thinking Edward was a contrary fellow, which he undoubtedly was.

Tobias had provided Kate with a dowry. Emily did think tonight would be the ideal time for Kate to find some suitors, possibly the suitor.

Edward was fairly sure his sister-in-law was right: men would call on Kate after this.

She had danced every dance, had men like Smith or Smythe or whatever, queuing up to find out more about her, and instead of furthering any match, Edward was acting like a beast with no manners.

‘Of course there is nothing wrong with her,’ he managed to say. ‘She is everything a lady should be.’

The man’s smile returned. ‘Excellent. I shall look forward to my next dance with her later. Farewell, old chap.’

Edward didn’t bother with his own goodbye.

Instead, he watched as Kate moved out of sight once more.

He would be damned if she married that fellow.

No one should be bound to a man who discussed women like they were trinkets to acquire.

Smith or Smythe was not good enough for her and as soon as he remembered the man’s name he would explain his thoughts.

Not that she was in any mood to take advice from him.

Christopher caught his gaze over Kate’s shoulder and grinned at him as if they were both in on the same joke. Whatever it was, nobody had told Edward the punchline. He had never felt so far away from smiling in his whole life and, after a childhood marred by Miss Dunn, that was an achievement.

Kate was still laughing as Christopher brought her near, the cad probably enjoying Edward’s misery.

Her shoulders were shaking with mirth, her eyes sparkling.

Damn, but she was beautiful. She did not turn her head in his direction and so he allowed himself the indulgence of watching her lithe movements.

If he hadn’t been watching intently, he might not have noticed her slight falter, the extra step she did in an otherwise perfect turn. Christopher’s pace didn’t change and Edward might not have thought anything further about it, only Kate’s smile turned rigid and the colour drained from her face.

Edward shifted on his feet, trying to see what could have changed her demeanour.

A few steps away from him, facing the dance floor like Edward was, a man with a head of burnished gold hair was watching her, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

Handsome in an austere way, he was dressed in fine clothes.

Edward had never laid eyes on him before, but he guessed he was rich from the way he stood, commanding the space with a lazy arrogance.

There was something possessive in the way he was staring at Kate, his lip slightly curled in annoyance.

The music came to an end and the man started forward, heading straight towards Kate, cutting through bowing couples like none of them mattered. Christopher was still smiling at Kate, but her body was locked in a hard line.

Without thinking, Edward moved across the dance floor, his only thought to intercept the man. The stranger had almost reached Kate, holding out a hand as though he was going to grasp Kate’s elbow, when Edward stepped in front of him.

‘Arthur,’ Edward said jovially, ‘I thought it was you. It has been an age.’

The man paused, his hand still outstretched, reaching towards Kate but looking towards Edward.

Edward was counting on the stranger having enough manners not to push him to one side.

The world slowed as the moment stretched out.

Edward hoped Kate was moving away, that she had managed to force her limbs to work or that Christopher had realised something was wrong and had helped her. He didn’t turn to check.

‘I am sorry,’ said the man in a deep baritone, ‘but I do not know you.’

‘It is me, Dashworth, Edward Dashworth. Glanmore’s brother.’ Edward didn’t normally mention the ducal connection. Most people recognised the Dashworth name, knew that it meant old money and powerful connections that stretched back centuries, but it wouldn’t hurt to emphasise the point to this man.

The man smiled thinly, the expression not reaching his eyes. ‘I have not had the pleasure of meeting any of the Dashworth family prior to this evening and my name is not Arthur.’

Edward stepped back a pace. ‘You are not Arthur Moore? Are you sure?’ Edward realised he sounded like a buffoon, but he didn’t care.

‘No.’ The man glanced over Edward’s shoulder, his jaw tightening at whatever he saw there. Edward risked following his gaze and caught a flash of red at the edge of the dance floor. He was glad Kate was moving, but it wasn’t far enough away for his liking.

The man moved to step past him, but Edward shifted his body, blocking him again. ‘Are you sure you were not at Eton in 1808?’

‘No. 1797.’ The man was a good eleven years older than Edward, older than Tobias too.

The stranger’s eyes glinted and he tried to move past Edward again.

The man was tall, but Edward was taller and wider.

If it came to a fight, Edward would win.

Not only was he stronger, he had three brothers.

None of them would relish getting into a brawl in Lady Albrighton’s ballroom, but they would defend him.

Edward hadn’t always been sure of that, but he was now.

‘Ah, what is your name then?’ He stood with his hands lightly hanging by his sides, leaning forward on the balls of his feet. To the casual observer he looked relaxed, but anyone watching properly would see he was poised to fight.

The other man’s eyes finally locked with Edward’s.

Maybe he noticed Edward’s tone had changed or perhaps the man eventually clocked the way Edward was standing, but Edward saw the moment he realised he was facing an opponent, not a mistaken friend.

He stepped back slightly. ‘My name is Michael Chorley,’ he said, his smile showing too many teeth.

‘My wife is a friend of Lady Albrighton. We do not come to London often, but Mrs Chorley wanted some new hats and whatever my wife wants, she has.’

‘Of course. I am sorry to have obstructed you. You look like an old friend of Glanmore’s, but now I see you are not him.’ Still he did not move out of the way, but the man did not try to get past him. ‘I hope you enjoy your short stay in London.’

Chorley nodded briskly before turning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction.