Of course he was an excellent dancer. It was mostly annoying that she loved to dance. It would have been far easier if he’d been terrible.
He was not.
She cleared her throat. “As does yours.”
“Does it?” he asked.
She gave a terse nod. “Indeed, as a rake and a rogue and a man of action.”
“Thank you,” he said before he turned them quickly to avoid another couple.
For one brief moment, her breasts brushed his chest, and she felt his hand tighten ever so slightly about hers.
“It was not a compliment,” she gritted.
Did he have to be so…so…infuriating?
She added, “Except perhaps the man of action part. I do admire that about a fellow. I don’t like the gentlemen these days who sit about doing nothing. Life is for the bold.”
Easily, he circled across the floor, his long, large steps taking up huge swaths of space. If he had not been so powerfully strong, it would have been unpleasant covering so much ground on the tips of her toes. But he easily supported her.
He frowned, clearly not believing her.
But it was true. She valued action and boldness.
Her own parents had died when she was small, and she was not going to waste one moment of her life in hesitation and waiting.
No, action needed to be taken, and so she required herself to take it.
“You have been avoiding me,” she declared at last, grateful that the buzzing conversation around them and the loudness of the excellent orchestra allowed for private conversation.
“You are most blunt,” he said.
She noted he did not actually reply to her statement.
“I am not,” she protested, tilting her head back so she could more easily spy his visage. “And I have yet to say anything that might upset you.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” he returned. “I have read your letters, all of them, and they speak volumes about your ability for bluntness.”
“Your Grace,” she scoffed. “Perhaps you find me blunt because everyone bows and scrapes before you. If you are unaware, as a duke, you are unlikely to be contradicted. But I cannot amend my speech for your benefit. And in this case, my speech is terse due to your lack of reply to my missives.”
“That is not true,” he countered, his gaze narrowing. “I have most definitely replied.”
She snorted at his sheer audacity. “Yes, your letters have consisted of ‘Thank you, Lady Beatrice, for your passionate entreaty. We will take such matters into consideration and do our best to support our constituents.’” She scowled. “Your constituents are male, sir. And they own land.”
He frowned.
After a long silence, he replied with more sincerity, “I never thought of it like that. I did not mean to make you feel so discounted.”
She hesitated, hardly believing she had heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”
He looked away for a moment, a clear indication he loathed being caught in the wrong. “I did not mean to make you feel discounted by stating I assist my constituents. It was rather ignorant of me.” He blew out a breath and gazed down upon her. “To not think about the fact that you as a lady are not one of my constituents.”
“That is correct,” she agreed, uncertain exactly how to proceed now that he’d admitted his deficiency.
She bit her lower lip, tempted to keep up the terse line of banter, but found herself admitting with unfettered passion, “I wrote to you as a concerned member of society. But male society is not interested in my concerns or my rights, unless it is to ensure I am denied them. If I marry, I would for all intents and purposes be the property of my husband.”
He winced. “Yes.”