The Ugly Duckling Debutante (House of Renwick #1)(30)

Two can play that game, she thought. For the first time in her life, she was tired. Had she not gotten what she desired? To look the part of the sparkling debutante? She subconsciously smoothed down her skirt. It was a painful concept to accept that even if she was beautiful on the outside, it didn’t make her feel whole on the inside. She stuck her tongue out at Nicholas in anger then crossed her arms.

“Saw that,” he said still looking out the window.

“Amazing you can see at all,” she muttered to herself.

She was rewarded with a slight shake of his shoulders to show his laughter. She reminded herself not to make him laugh, his smile made her want to weep. He was beautiful, like a fallen angel. His bright eyes had the ability to pierce right through to her soul. Never mind that his kisses turned her to liquid. No wonder women left their husbands. He was enticing indeed, not that she would ever give into any of his immoral displays of affection. She was, after all, a strong morally upright girl and wasn’t he reformed? It was difficult to tell sometimes. Every time they were alone, he either insulted her or kissed her. Infuriating man.

The carriage jerked to a stop. Nicholas held out his hand as she stepped down from the carriage. “Try not to trip,” he whispered into her ear as they went into Almack’s. People everywhere were dressed in the most famous of fashions. It made her self-conscious enough to look at her own gown to make sure it was still in place.

“I’d tell you if it wasn’t,” Nicholas murmured.

Add mind reading to his list of attributes, she thought, stubbornly jutting her chin into the air. He escorted her to the refreshment table and sat down in a nearby chair. Apparently that’s all he was to do this night, sit and watch her talk with every other available gentleman. Weren’t those who were betrothed supposed to look betrothed? To look happy together, like they were in love? What would people think when they saw him flirting with other women?

Sara had engaged in several conversations about the weather, which nearly bored her to tears, when Sir Rawlings approached and asked her to dance.

“With pleasure,” she accepted with the brightest smile she could muster. It was a slower dance, one which left both partners adequate time to talk and flirt, which she took full advantage of.

If her own betrothed was going to be pigheaded and so full of himself that he would not take notice of her, she wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. As Rawlings made her laugh again, she took a turn and saw Renwick’s cold eyes boring through her. She tripped on her gown but was saved by Rawlings’ hands as he reached out and braced her arms. Looking into his eyes she began to feel like he had cornered her rather than rescued her. Something predatory lurked behind those eyes and it made her uncomfortable.

“Are you all right, Sai?” Rawlings’ voice was laced with fake concern. His hands were still firmly placed on her shoulders moving uncomfortably closer to her chest. Either she was the worst dance partner ever, or he was trying to use her vulnerability for his gain. She shouldn’t allow Nicholas’s strange moods to dictate how she treated others, even if the others she referred to were dogs like Rawlings. It was too unlike her.

If she weren’t already feeling uncomfortable in a man’s arms, she might have tried to apologize, but she bristled over the fact that she had not given Rawlings permission to use her Christian name however fake it was. Only Renwick called her Sai. When he said her name, she thought it sounded exotic, but on Rawlings’ lips it sounded more like the sigh of a wanton woman when cornered in the ballroom. She forced a smile and continued dancing, but Nicholas’s angry stare burned into her back for the rest of the dance.

When Rawlings’ eyes jerked up Sara knew. Nicholas was behind her. He gave Rawlings a curt nod then grabbed Sara by the waist.

“A waltz,” he growled into her ear. She immediately tensed when the music started. She hadn’t danced a waltz in public with Renwick, nor had she ever wanted to. It was too embarrassing. Couldn’t everyone see the way he made her feel? It was suddenly apparent to her that much of the ton was watching them dance rather than dancing themselves. Sara tried to keep a smile on her face but found it difficult to concentrate as her legs kept brushing against his. Oh dear, she thought. This cannot end well. It simply cannot.

Her breathing became more uneven until finally, by the grace of God, the dance ended. She sighed with relief, but not before Renwick leaned down to kiss her hand, and whisper once more into her ear, “You’re mine.”

“So, now I am your possession?” she asked through clenched teeth.

He smiled tensely. “My dear, what else would you be?”

“I hoped to be your wife.”

“Well, I hoped to never marry a manipulative woman of the ton; we can’t always get our way can we?” With that he bowed and motioned for another young gentleman to dance with her. The young man couldn’t have been any older than she and reeked of brandy. Nicholas was punishing her, but what had she ever done to him? None of his accusations were true. He was acting like an absolute cad! How dare he say that she had manipulated her! If anything it was the other way around! He was the one that was continually taking advantage of her by kissing her whenever he had the chance. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have ample opportunity to bridge the gap between them. In fact after looking at her dress it was obvious it would be something any man would find appealing. Even if it was a trifle too elaborate for her tastes. Surely Renwick noticed her? Or she hoped he would at least say something. Instead did he do upon seeing her? He looked down and asked if she was ready! The more she thought about it the more upset she became! Manipulative? What did he base his accusations on? It wasn’t fair of him to judge her based on nothing but his own sick assumptions.