Leorah took a deep breath. How dare the man make her feel uncomfortable? It was not very gentlemanly of him.
They went through the motions of the dance, and she began to glance about the room instead of at her partner, as he seemed unable to meet her eye but looked mostly at the floor. Lord Withinghall was leaning on his cane as he stood near the wall, while Miss Norbury was dancing with one of the young men who had come specifically for the ball, Sir William Ridgely, a baronet from a neighboring county. But instead of watching Miss Norbury, the viscount seemed to be watching Leorah and Mr. Hastings.
Wasn’t it enough that he had ruined her flirtation with Mr. Hastings? Was he observing his handiwork?
When the dance was over, Mr. Hastings leaned toward her again. “Please allow me to apologize again. I am heartily sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Do you forgive me?”
“Yes, of course.” Leorah gave him a tiny smile.
“Let me bring you some negus.”
“I would prefer lemonade, if you please.”
“I shall bring it directly.” And Mr. Hastings hurried away toward the refreshment table.
“Miss Langdon.” Lord Withinghall approached her, leaning on his cane. “I trust you are well.”
“Yes, of course. How is your leg mending?”
“Very well, I believe.”
“I am happy to hear it. My wrist is mending well too, as far as I know.” She anticipated that he was about to ask.
“Very glad to hear.” There was a moment’s pause, then, “Mr. Hastings . . . he is not troubling you, is he?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“I seemed to notice a change in your countenance when you were dancing with him. Forgive me if I am prying.”
“I thank you for your concern, Lord Withinghall, but all is well. Should you not be concerned about Miss Norbury? She is dancing with Sir William Ridgely again, I believe.”
He raised his brows at her, then bowed. “Forgive me if I have offended you.” He turned and walked away, barely touching the floor with his cane.
Mr. Hastings handed her a cup of lemonade. “What did the viscount want?”
“Nothing. I was asking after his broken leg.”
“Miss Langdon.” Mr. Hastings leaned a bit closer, keeping his expression lax, as though purposely trying not to look too intense. “I have never felt so much for any woman as I feel for you. The thought that I may have offended you has kept me from sleeping these three nights. Please relieve my suffering—”
“Mr. Hastings, please. Anyone might overhear you.”
“What do I care? I must speak. My feelings are too strong to be held at bay any longer. I love you, Miss Langdon, and I wish to marry you.”
“I am very sorry, Mr. Hastings.” Leorah smiled, though it hurt her face. “I am flattered and honored by your proposal, but my feelings do not permit me to accept your offer. Please accept my wishes for your every happiness.”
“Has someone told you something amiss? Have I done something wrong?”
“No, of course not.”
“You led me to believe that your feelings were as strong as mine, that you would not say no to my proposals.”
“I never said anything of the kind, nor did I lead you to believe such a thing. We were friends getting to know one another. I am heartily sorry for causing pain, but it was not intentional.”
He stood staring silently at the wall, his face turning red.
“The music is starting,” she said as gently as she could. “You promised this dance to Miss Mayson.”
He turned on his heel, found Felicity, and held out his hand to her.
They joined the dance, but his movements were stiff and not characterized by his usual grace.
How had this happened? This was what came of flirting. She would be foolish indeed to entertain the thought of marrying him, especially when she had known him so short a time. Had he truly asked her to marry him, right there at the ball, where anyone walking by might have heard him? She would not have thought him capable of such a thing. And the way his face had turned so red, the anger and hurt in his eyes . . .
“Oh dear.” She watched the dancers on the floor, glad to be able to stand alone with her thoughts. But poor Felicity. Mr. Hastings’s mind was obviously not on the dance. He barely looked at her, and his face was set in an angry scowl, while a blush stained his cheeks.
If only this night could end now.
Edward watched as Miss Norbury danced with the baronet, then with a wealthy middle-aged widower. No doubt she had expected him to propose marriage to her by now and was wondering if he had changed his mind. And it was time. He owed her an explanation, so he would request a private audience with both Miss Norbury and her guardian, Mrs. Culpepper, in the morning.
He couldn’t help glancing in Miss Langdon’s direction. She stood in a shadowy spot near the wall, sipping her lemonade. Some words had been exchanged between her and Mr. Hastings that had made her look even more uncomfortable than she had before Edward had spoken to her. And as red as his face was, Hastings was either embarrassed or angry—or both.
He couldn’t help taking in Miss Langdon’s profile. She looked so pretty descending the staircase earlier, his breath had actually caught in his throat. Her hair was elegant and tamed into large curls with a few wispy tendrils dangling just above her shoulders. Her skin glowed in her pale-blue-and-yellow dress, and she looked so sweet, the way she walked arm in arm with her friend Miss Mayson. His chest ached just remembering it.
But he should not be thinking such thoughts. Miss Langdon had never cared for him, and though he’d thought they had become friends, she did not seem inclined to think well of him anymore, which no doubt had something to do with Mr. Hastings.
Miss Felicity Mayson stood near Miss Langdon now. Miss Langdon’s carefree smile was already returning as she spoke with her friend.
Edward moved a bit closer to them, trying not to be noticed. Then two other men, Sir William Ridgely and Mr. Tobias Kingsley, came to stand between him and the two ladies.
“Sir William, why aren’t you dancing?” Mr. Kingsley asked.
“I should like to dance again with Miss Norbury, but she is practically engaged to be married to the viscount, I understand.”
“Yes, so the rumor says. But there is a pretty young lady just on the other side of you. Why not dance with her?”
“The brunette with the yellow dress?”
“No, the other one. The pretty green-eyed girl with the red-blond hair. She is not engaged.”
Miss Langdon and Miss Felicity had stopped talking and were obviously listening.
“Oh, I inquired about her earlier,” Sir William said, pointing his long, sharp nose in Mr. Kingsley’s direction. “She is one of thirteen children of a shopkeeper in London.” His voice curled distastefully in the same manner as his lower lip.
Mr. Kingsley raised his brows. “Oh.”