Free Vexed by a Viscount by Erin Knightley

“Pru,” he said, wanting her to look at him.
    “Mm-hmm?” she murmured, though she still refused to make eye contact. She fussed with her skirts as though wrinkles were her worst enemy
    “Prudence,” he said more sternly, this time earning her full attention. “Something is the matter. Have I done something to offend you?”
    It was hard to imagine he had. The dance had been one of the finest he’d ever had, so fluid as to be almost magical. They had moved as though they had been dancing together for years, missing not a single step despite her lack of experience. In fact, up until the moment she had stopped, he would have wagered good money that she was enjoying herself immensely.
    It would have been understandable if it really was simply about her fear of not being able to enjoy the dance again, but that didn’t explain why she would pull away from him. They had become closer than he would have thought possible in such a short time, and the use of his honorific felt like a slap.
    She shook her head, an unconvincing smile pasted across her lips. “No, of course not.”
    He crossed his arms. “I can’t say that I believe you. You don’t go from calling me Ash to addressing me as ‘my lord’ without a reason. Please tell me if I’ve upset you.”
    This whole evening was supposed to be about her enjoyment. He’d come because he thought he she would like the waltz. And, of course, because he’d wanted to spend more time with her. He loved being a part of her rebellion.
    She looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I wasn’t referring to the waltz,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
    “I beg your pardon?” He wasn’t quite sure what she meant.
    “When I spoke of what was never to be, I wasn’t referring to the dance.”
    Before he could figure out what it was she was saying, she hurried to her shoes, stepped into them, and offered a quick wave. “Good night, Ashby. Thank you for a lovely dance.”
    And just like that, she was gone. The gate squeaked as she slipped away, but that was the last he heard of her.
    What the devil had just happened? One minute everything was just fine, and the next she was as skittish as a colt, escaping as though dogs were nipping at her heels.
    With nothing else to do, he turned and started back to the property line, where he’d left his horse. What had that cryptic statement of hers meant? If not the dance, what had Prudence been referring to? There’s being adventurous, and then there is simply torturing oneself with what is never to be. It’s just . . . too tempting.
    As her words came back to him, he slowed his steps, realization belatedly dawning. Could she possibly be referring to them ? He and she, together ?
    He couldn’t laugh off the thought. It held far too much truth. Such a thing would have seemed ridiculous only days ago, but much had changed in such a short time. They had truly enjoyed each other’s company. Was it possible that she was feeling something more than friendly towards him? Surely not. Only . . . there had been something different between them tonight. Something intangible but real, something that had deepened the connection and enhanced the pleasure of the dance.
    If she had sensed that, no wonder she had withdrawn from him. She had a duty to her betrothed, just as he did to his. Entertaining any other eventuality was impossible. Contracts had been signed. Her wedding was only weeks away, for heaven’s sake.
    She was right. They shouldn’t be flirting with temptation. Too many people could get hurt—Prudence most of all. And if disappointment settled deep in his gut, well, that was something he wasn’t quite willing to analyze.

Chapter Eight
    P rudence awoke much later than usual, regret as heavy in her chest as it had been the night before. She had done the right thing, she was certain of that, but that didn’t make her feel any better. Last night had given her a glimpse into the life she had always wanted, but