she thought she delivered that pretty well. It didn’t stop the doubt from creeping over the housekeeper’s round face, though. She acted like Jamie hadn’t said a word and continued shuffling sheet music.
“As I said, when you are wed, then permission will not be a problem. Ah yes, here is his lordship now.”
The thudding footsteps in the hall confirmed her statement. Jamie jumped up from the settee, truly a feat since she was still stuffed into those damn unforgiving stays. “Wait a minute, you didn’t say he was going to be involved with this. I can’t dance with him. I can’t even be in the same room with him without someone attempting murder.”
There was an evil sort of twinkle in Mrs. K’s eye. “Well, how can you learn to dance without a handsome and capable partner? Your lordship, thank you for attending us.”
Mike didn’t even look over at Jamie as he entered the room. He looked, well, fricking fantastic in his dove-gray coat and tight fawn pants. His boots were so shiny she thought she could see her face in them if she bent down. Of course, he might kick her in the face if she tried. Jamie sighed inwardly. She’d really fucked everything up, once again.
“Yes, Mrs. Knightsbridge, I understand you needed my assistance?”
The housekeeper nodded happily, her round cheeks bright. “Yes. I will accompany you on the piano if you will be so kind as to guide Miss Jamie in the steps of the cotillion.”
The horror on Mike’s face would have been funny if it wasn’t so damn painful. His eyes flared wide, panic clear in their brown depths.
Am I really that bad? Jamie looked down at the rose-colored muslin dress she wore and smoothed the skirt down self-consciously. These damn petticoats made it look like she had thunder thighs. Fashion back in her time was really more flattering to her figure. Maybe that would help Mike be able to tolerate her more.
“Cotillion? Mrs. Knightsbridge, I cannot—”
“Oh, do not be so modest, your lordship. You are a wonderful dancer.”
“That is not the issue. I simply—”
Jamie couldn’t take his namby-pamby avoidance of the issue anymore. If he wasn’t man enough to come out and say it, then she’d do it for him. “He doesn’t want to dance with me, Mrs. K. He doesn’t like me.”
You could have heard mice whisper in the walls if Mrs. Knightsbridge wasn’t such a great housekeeper. Mike and Mrs. K both stared at Jamie like she’d sprouted polka-dotted bat wings. She didn’t think it was possible to feel even more uncomfortable, but there Mike was once again, proving her wrong.
“Nonsense, Miss Jamie,” Mrs. K sputtered like an ancient engine. Mike continued staring at Jamie. “His lordship thinks very highly of you and will prove it by aiding in your dance lesson.” Mrs. K pinned him with a glare that dared him to deny it.
He shook his head slightly, composed his face, and drew himself up taller. “Of course, Miss Marten. I would be delighted to assist.” He offered Jamie his hand, and she stared at it, disbelieving.
He doesn’t want to do this . Every time they had ever touched, he’d disappeared immediately afterward like his ass was on fire. The only reason he hadn’t run this time was because Mrs. K had put his masculinity on the line, and as a “gentleman,” he couldn’t desert Jamie without looking like a total asshat. Jamie wished Mrs. K hadn’t put him on the spot like that. Forcing him to be with Jamie certainly wasn’t going to make him like her. But if Jamie ignored him, then she was the bitch, and she’d played that particular role more than enough lately.
Jamie steeled herself and took his offered hand. She wouldn’t pay attention to the strong warmth of his skin on hers. She would studiously ignore the fact that her heart fluttered being close to him again. She would not focus on the way her lips tingled, longing to touch his again. She would get through this damn dance lesson without embarrassing herself if it
“As I said, when you are wed, then permission will not be a problem. Ah yes, here is his lordship now.”
The thudding footsteps in the hall confirmed her statement. Jamie jumped up from the settee, truly a feat since she was still stuffed into those damn unforgiving stays. “Wait a minute, you didn’t say he was going to be involved with this. I can’t dance with him. I can’t even be in the same room with him without someone attempting murder.”
There was an evil sort of twinkle in Mrs. K’s eye. “Well, how can you learn to dance without a handsome and capable partner? Your lordship, thank you for attending us.”
Mike didn’t even look over at Jamie as he entered the room. He looked, well, fricking fantastic in his dove-gray coat and tight fawn pants. His boots were so shiny she thought she could see her face in them if she bent down. Of course, he might kick her in the face if she tried. Jamie sighed inwardly. She’d really fucked everything up, once again.
“Yes, Mrs. Knightsbridge, I understand you needed my assistance?”
The housekeeper nodded happily, her round cheeks bright. “Yes. I will accompany you on the piano if you will be so kind as to guide Miss Jamie in the steps of the cotillion.”
The horror on Mike’s face would have been funny if it wasn’t so damn painful. His eyes flared wide, panic clear in their brown depths.
Am I really that bad? Jamie looked down at the rose-colored muslin dress she wore and smoothed the skirt down self-consciously. These damn petticoats made it look like she had thunder thighs. Fashion back in her time was really more flattering to her figure. Maybe that would help Mike be able to tolerate her more.
“Cotillion? Mrs. Knightsbridge, I cannot—”
“Oh, do not be so modest, your lordship. You are a wonderful dancer.”
“That is not the issue. I simply—”
Jamie couldn’t take his namby-pamby avoidance of the issue anymore. If he wasn’t man enough to come out and say it, then she’d do it for him. “He doesn’t want to dance with me, Mrs. K. He doesn’t like me.”
You could have heard mice whisper in the walls if Mrs. Knightsbridge wasn’t such a great housekeeper. Mike and Mrs. K both stared at Jamie like she’d sprouted polka-dotted bat wings. She didn’t think it was possible to feel even more uncomfortable, but there Mike was once again, proving her wrong.
“Nonsense, Miss Jamie,” Mrs. K sputtered like an ancient engine. Mike continued staring at Jamie. “His lordship thinks very highly of you and will prove it by aiding in your dance lesson.” Mrs. K pinned him with a glare that dared him to deny it.
He shook his head slightly, composed his face, and drew himself up taller. “Of course, Miss Marten. I would be delighted to assist.” He offered Jamie his hand, and she stared at it, disbelieving.
He doesn’t want to do this . Every time they had ever touched, he’d disappeared immediately afterward like his ass was on fire. The only reason he hadn’t run this time was because Mrs. K had put his masculinity on the line, and as a “gentleman,” he couldn’t desert Jamie without looking like a total asshat. Jamie wished Mrs. K hadn’t put him on the spot like that. Forcing him to be with Jamie certainly wasn’t going to make him like her. But if Jamie ignored him, then she was the bitch, and she’d played that particular role more than enough lately.
Jamie steeled herself and took his offered hand. She wouldn’t pay attention to the strong warmth of his skin on hers. She would studiously ignore the fact that her heart fluttered being close to him again. She would not focus on the way her lips tingled, longing to touch his again. She would get through this damn dance lesson without embarrassing herself if it
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