Page 43 of The Falconer

Just then, Lord Milton approaches me and bows. ‘May I have the pleasure?’

‘Change of plan,’ Gavin says, easing himself between Lord Milton and me. ‘I’ll take it from here, Milton.’ He claps Lord Milton’s thin shoulder as if they are old friends.

Lord Milton coughs slightly and straightens, looking quite shocked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Gavin smiles. ‘I’ll take this waltz with the lady.’

‘Daaaaaancing,’ Derrick cries. ‘I lovedaaaancing! Tell him to toss you over his head!’

I resist the urge to reach up and flick him off my shoulder. My God, how much honey did he eat? When we get home, I’m going to lock him in that blasted dressing room until the effects wear off. No doubt he’s had about a week’s worth.

Lord Milton looks dismayed. ‘But—’

‘So glad you understand.’ Gavin offers me his arm. ‘May I?’

He drags me away from the group. I only concede so I don’t attract more attention from the other guests.

We stand across from one another in the dance line. I glare at him, but Gavin simply flashes his disarming grin, bowing from the waist. He takes my hand and we begin our waltz.

Gavin must have practised while he was away. We used to dance around the drawing room of his house, he and Catherine and I. Gavin would step on my toes or twirl us into a table or cause me to trip over his feet. Now we move well together, each step smooth and graceful. His hand is firm against my back. I swear I can feel its warmth there through my dress and his gloves.

People are already staring at us, and I’m sure they’re whispering about me again. I grit my teeth and try to focus on the dance, wishing it to end soon so I can excuse myself.

Gavin whirls me around and I look everywhere but at his face. His shoulder seems like a fine spot.

‘I cannot believe you did that,’ I finally say.

‘I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I came off as an arrogant arse.’

‘Indeed you did. Is that what they teach you at Oxford?’

He laughs. ‘Direct hit.’

Gavin might be able to joke about this situation, but I can’t. I have to behave properly for at least a few balls this season, before the gossip about me becomes even worse. This is an opportunity – perhaps my last – to have some control over my future, to match myself with someone I may grow to like with time. Who knows what kind of man my father would choose for me? My goodness, it might be some terribly overbearing lout twice my age.

‘It’s not funny, Gavin.’

‘Forgive my impulsiveness, then.’ Gavin flashes another smile. ‘Your dance card was full and I wanted a conversation.’

Derrick giggles. ‘Whirling! I love to whirl. Ask him to whirl faster! I see lights. Do you see the lights? Aileana? Do you see the lights?’

‘Funny,’ I say drily, ignoring Derrick. ‘I thought we were conversing perfectly well before the waltz. Before you became – your words, not mine – an arrogant arse.’

He presses his body close to mine and I inhale the sharp, heady scent of soap and whisky that lingers on him. I love that smell. It reminds me of how we were before he left, when he used to tease me at afternoon tea and tug on my curls. It reminds me of everything I felt back then, when I wished he would see me as a woman and not a girl.

‘Let’s try again, then, shall we?’ Gavin says. ‘I haven’t seen you in two years. How could I not steal you away?’

I laugh in spite of myself. ‘A valiant effort. I suppose you don’t care about the gossip?’

Gavin raises an eyebrow. ‘Not at all. Since when did you?’

‘Morewhiiiiiirling!’ Derrick sings.

Gavin levels a severe gaze at Derrick. ‘What the hell is wrong with your pixie?’

I almost stumble in shock. Gavin holds me closer and smoothly whirls us again. ‘You can see him?’ I whisper. ‘You’re a Seer?’

‘Seer,’ Derrick says in delight. His wings beat faster against my neck, then he giggles again. ‘Can’t fight like a Falconer. Can’t do anything but see. Bloody useless, aren’t you?’

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