The Wedding Game

It was Amy’s voice in his head, reminding him that this was to be his life, from now on: one part husband, one part father, one part teacher. He had no right to be frustrated if Belle could not keep up. He would need to slow down and help her.

Templeton was about to pass them again. Instead, he paused with a smile. ‘Might we change partners, Lovell? It seems forever since I’ve spoken to Miss Arabella, and I have not had the opportunity to congratulate her on the nuptials.’

‘You spoke with her just this afternoon,’ Amy said, eyes narrowed. ‘You had ample opportunity for felicitations then. Besides, I do not think changing partners in the middle of a dance is allowed.’

Which was better: a woman who had trouble following instructions or one who refused to do so? He had told Amy not to fuss over Templeton and Belle, but she could not seem to let it alone.

It was either that, or she preferred to partner with Guy instead of him. Were both of the Summoner girls so afraid of him that they could not dance him? It was one thing to keep a safe distance and quite another for Amy to be appalled at the idea of his touch. He smiled stubbornly at her. ‘As host and hostess, the rules are what we wish them to be. And I say we should switch partners.’

Apparently, his fiancée wanted to obey him, after all. By the time he looked to Belle for her opinion, she was already stepping clear of his embrace and holding out her arms to Templeton. In a show of propriety, he held her more loosely than Ben had done. Perhaps that had been all that was necessary. The pair of them set out together as gracefully as Guy had danced with Amy.

Ben stared after them for a moment, annoyed. Then he heard the sound of a clearing throat about the level of his first waistcoat button.

When he looked back, Amy was staring at him expectantly. ‘Are we going to dance? Or are you going to wait until they come round again so you might trade back and be rid of me?’

‘I apologise.’ He scooped up her hand and they set off, spinning easily about the room. ‘I was just noticing that Templeton is a better dancer than I am.’

‘As someone who has danced with you both, I beg to differ,’ she said. ‘But if it improves your mood to have me abuse you on the subject, I will be happy to accommodate you.’

‘That will not be necessary,’ he assured her, irritated that she might be right about Templeton and Belle.

It was some comfort to find he had no trouble at all dancing with Amy. She responded effortlessly to his guidance, matching him step for step. ‘You are an excellent dancer,’ he said, trying to focus on the steps and not the nearness of her.

‘A better dancer than my sister?’ she said in a dry tone.

‘She was unfamiliar with the waltz,’ he replied.

‘She does well enough with your friend,’ Amy goaded. ‘In the future, perhaps you will take my advice and be less eager to push her into his arms.’

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ he said, glancing across the floor to see Belle laughing in the arms of his best friend. ‘One last dance is hardly a reason for concern.’

‘Are you sure it will be the last?’ she said. ‘You are neighbours, after all. She will see him again.’

Of course she would. Templeton dined here once a week, at least. If Ben stood for office, with or without Summoner’s help, he would not have the time to guard his wife.

‘You are beginning to see the problem,’ Amy said, nodding in satisfaction. ‘You heard her today. She views you as a stranger. As such, she feels no real loyalty to you. But after Vauxhall, we both have reason to distrust Mr Templeton.’

‘I am sure they are guilty of nothing more serious than a few kisses,’ he said.

‘Some might say the same of us,’ she reminded him.

It took nothing more than the mention of what they had done to send a rush of blood through his body, stirring the desire that had lain dormant. The woman he wanted was already in his arms. It would take nothing more than a tightening of arms to pin her body against his.

And Summoner’s horrible suggestion whispered at the back of his mind. He could keep them both. One for his mind, his heart and his body, and the other for the illusion of perfection that his future demanded.

Belle would not expect fidelity. Neither should he. What did it matter whose arms his wife slept in, while he was lying with another? If they could not all be happy, there was no reason that they might not at least be physically satisfied.

It might not have been the marriage Miss Arabella imagined for herself. But that was because she was a na?ve child and her sister was not much better. But it would not take so very much to kill their innocence and bring them both to their senses, so the four of them could live comfortably.

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