Daring Miss Danvers by Vivienne Lorret Page A

ballroom, she added, “However, I am honored that you would support me if I found enemies here.”
    “Just as I am certain you will soon come to understand my sense of humor,” the dowager said without missing a beat. “If nothing else, you have a sharp intellect.”
    Proceeding up the stairs at a regal pace beside the dowager, Emma felt her forced smile relax. A combination of relief and amusement eased the sudden tension when it occurred to her that the dowager was actually teasing her. In her own way.
    “If intellect is what I have to recommend me, then I must confess to deception as well.” She couldn’t be too sharp witted. After all, she’d agreed to Rathburn’s scheme.
    “And modesty, no doubt.”
    Not wanting to lose the ground she’d gained, Emma pulled the corner of her mouth between her teeth to keep from laughing aloud. “Forgive me if I withhold agreement, for I do not want to add pride to the list.”
    Her efforts earned her a playful swat on the arm from the dowager’s fan when they reached the top.
    Having entered the ballroom ahead of them, Rathburn and his mother were already standing in the gallery, currently speaking with Merribeth and her aunt, Mrs. Leander, along with her friend, Lady Eve Sterling. Delaney and Bree were also there, standing on the far side with the dour-faced Miss Pursglove. With the collapse of her nerves only a disapproving look away, Emma was glad her friends were among their party of spectators.
    Rathburn excused himself from the small group and made his way to her, quirking a brow as he regarded first her and then the dowager. “Grandmamma, is that a smile on your lips?”
    “What a notion.” For his cheek, he received a swat of her fan as well. “Now, hurry along, I won’t have you hovering over our Miss Danvers and scaring away all her partners again. Simply sign her dance card and be on your way.”
    He clenched his jaw and offered a tight smile. “With all the prettiest ladies holding court in the gallery, I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”
    Even though he made the statement with his characteristic teasing air, the hardness in his gaze told her that he was serious. When he turned that look on her, she instantly recalled how Penelope had called that look possessive .
    A secret thrill rushed through her, sending tingles beneath the surface of her skin, and causing gooseflesh to rise on her arms. However, she knew better than to let her imagination run wild.
    “Miss Danvers,” the dowager said, her voice abruptly dowsing the tingles. “Hand him your card so that we can be rid of him before he flatters us to distraction.”
    She swallowed. “I—I don’t have a card.”
    Whatever ground she’d made with the dowager disappeared beneath furrowed scrutiny. “No card?”
    Before Emma could shake her head, the dowager’s censorious glower was cast to Rathburn.
    “Obviously, this is your doing. After all, why would a young woman bother with a dance card if her escort behaves like a barbarian? If you’re not careful, dear boy, you’ll lose your place as my favorite grandson. Your cousin Gabriel is reforming quite well.” By the time she was finished, all the reproach vanished from her tone. Reaching into her reticule, she produced an elegant card and handed it to Emma.
    In turn, Emma handed it to Rathburn.
    He frowned, staring at it with the same intensity he’d used on her, as if he were considering tucking it into his pocket and refusing to return it.
    “ One dance,” his grandmother warned. “In such a crush, there can be only four sets before dinner, I’m sure. Since we will not stay much after dinner, you may choose only one.”
    “However, it is also perfectly acceptable if you choose not to dance with me,” Emma added hastily, her heart suddenly pounding in her throat. “After all, I’m certain there will be other occasions . . . in the future.”
    The way his glance speared her, she knew her efforts were transparent. Unfortunately, he took