The Ostler's Boy (The Ostler's Boy Book 1)

Chapter Nineteen

Tonight's ball was less fantastic than the first. Or perhaps the social season had lost its glimmer somewhere in the haze of indiscretions. Maybe I was just selfishly disinterested in the daily routines of ladies in Chalke. My fiancé's portrayal of how happy we could be. Maybe I was needy for the attention of a certain swordsman who made my lips tingle, who made it near impossible not to envision him every time Sam touched my shoulder, or whispered into my ear.

"I'd say blush was your color," he told me.

"Thank you, sir," I said, carelessly sighing as I looked over the crowd.

"Would you like to dance?" He had already collected my hand, and began to pull me onto the floor. I couldn't decline with so many eyes.

"You're sporting tonight," I pried. "Did you have a nice day with Lady Agatha?"

I'm sure I'd struck a nerve but he didn't react fully, only smiling toward someone who'd greeted us. He twirled me again and when I was back in his embrace, he changed the subject.

"How is breaking Ice coming along?"

"You've remembered her name," I remarked.

"Hard not to. You did correct me. Your way of education sticks with a man, I think."

"I see." Another face had appeared beside us, wishing the 'happy couple' a beautiful and long-lasting matrimony.

"Would you like to go to town with me tomorrow?" he asked.

"To town?" I blinked a few times, Confused. "No. I have plans with Mr. Evergreen."

"I see," he went on. "Then the day after?"

"Well, I-"

"I think we should be seen together more often," he said. "I have been absent. I apologize for it. Give me a chance to correct it."

A month ago, I might have believed him, but from across the room, I saw Agatha and her sister trading whispers as they watched us. It made my stomach churn, my lashes flutter, and I looked up at him. "Your friends are waiting for you," I said.

His attention went exactly where mine had been. "I know," he said quietly. "Let's finish our dance."

"If you insist," I hummed. "Though as a woman, I can tell you, the longer you dance with me, the worse she feels." We locked eyes and then he did something very disorienting. He apologized.

"I'm sorry. How terrible you must feel to be left in her shadow."

My eyes narrowed and I let go of his hands, severing our dance. He took a cordial step back to bow to me, selling it as a purposeful act, and in turn I curtsied to defer the onlookers.

"Thank you for the dance, my love," he announced loudly.

"The honor is mine," I added.