"I'm failing to see the point." Cross lifted his hands in surrender.
Essie walked back towards him, her hips slightly swaying as a delighted, victorious grin overtook her beautiful features. "Men want what they can't have… so I'm going to be unavailable. Because you." She poked him gently in the arm. "Are going to be courting me."
"I am?" Cross asked, knowing it was a dangerous game he was considering playing.
"Please?" Essie asked, and gone was the victorious smile, gone was the bravado. Rather, in its place was a woman simply needing help. The damsel in distress.
And Cross had always wanted to be her knight.
Here was his golden opportunity.
He'd rescue her by playing the part he all too well knew how to play… but he was going in and playing for keeps.
And he'd win the final hand, or die trying.
CHAPTER TWO
Surely it would work, wouldn't it?
At the time, the idea had seemed so… instinctive. As if there were no other option available. Yet as Essie found herself in the crowded Luxberg ballroom, the cold finger of doubt sent shivers up her spine.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. After all, what was the worst that could happen? She had already been jilted—in a way. What could possibly be worse? Trighton, scoundrel that he was, had given her the perfect escape that maintained her dignity. Of course that she had cried off had the ton gossips spinning with wild tales, but it was far better than being jilted. Less scandalous, less of a danger to her reputation. And with her attending the rout with Cross she'd simply allow the gossips to draw their own conclusions. Yes, she'd appear to be a woman unable to make up her mind, but that was better than being a woman unwanted. And she did have Cross' agreement to play along. So she wouldn't be alone. They'd pretend for a week or so, just enough to get talk started, but part ways before anyone could think of their attachment as serious. By then, she was sure that several gentlemen would be interested in her, Viola! It would be perfect.
Or so she hoped.
Her brow pinched as she gazed at the swirling dancers. How she had loved the idea of being engaged—for the short time it lasted. The knowledge that she was wanted, that she was 'taken'; it was delicious, heady and delightful. She acutely missed that feeling. But oddly, she was thrilled to know that while she missed the feeling, she didn't feel the same loss for the person to whom she had been engaged.
Yet as wonderful as that feeling was, she was sure it didn't compare with the sensation of being in love. And she was most certainly not in love with Trighton. However she was in love with the idea of being someone's wife.
Well, now she got the chance to have both.
Which came back to the point she was trying to make with herself; the plan was going to work.
Shaking her head, she walked along the edge of the dance floor, needing to talk with someone other than herself.
Anna was sure to arrive any moment, along with Cross. As if her thoughts had conjured them up, she caught a glance of the dark raven hair for which Anna was renowned. A beauty and fantastically wealthy, she had the luxury of turning down suitors, but Essie didn't begrudge her friend; she loved her far too much for there to be room for such a petty emotion.
Anna glanced in her direction and grinned widely. Making her way towards her friend, Anna drew the attention of several young men, all watching her movements with rapt attention.
Essie shook her head but grinned. She shifted her gaze from Anna to behind her, searching for Cross. But he was nowhere to be seen.
"We only just arrived! It's quite the crush already, isn't it?" Anna spoke excitedly as her royal blue eyes took in the opulent surroundings.
"Yes, the dancing began a bit early I think, as well," Essie replied, her gaze still searching for Cross.
"Don't worry, my brother didn't forget. He'll be here shortly." Anna waved dismissively. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he was nervous."
"Nervous? Why?" Essie asked.
Anna shrugged. "I'm not sure. Oh! There he is!" Anna pointed to the archway to the left.
Essie followed her gaze and felt a wave of relief crash over her.
He was here.
Essie studied Cross from across the room. His ink-black hair was perfectly combed, yet styled slightly different than she remembered. His evening kit was cut in perfect lines to emphasize his tall and lean shape, but as he had grown older, the thin frame of adolescent boy had matured into the strong build of a man. At only eighteen months older than his sister, Cross had always been close with Anna. Which meant that Essie had also come to know him quite well. But as friendly as they had been to one another, she had always felt that he kept his distance. Sheer desperation had lent her the courage to ask him to participate in her ruse, that and she was quite certain he was the only gentleman of which she could ask such a question and not be laughed at.