Page 35 of If I Loved You
Here, she did falter. But his hold was steady, and their timing quickly recovered.
“Step, slide, step,” he reminded her. “I think you are enjoying yourself and London.”
NotI like having you here. Notplease stay with me. How silly she was to just now understand that these were the words she craved!
She could only hope she was successful in hiding the sorrow from her smile. “I would be lying if I said I was not relishing this visit to London. But I miss Bethany, as I’m sure you can imagine.More than anything, I am looking forward to seeing her tomorrow.”
“Ah, I somehow expected that might be your response,” he said lightly.
“Do you think we’ve accomplished our mission? In regard to the Hindrance?”
Zach let out a short chuckle.
Emma defended with a grin, “You hadn’t given me her name when first we discussed this plot, that she was only—your words—a hindrance. Truth be told, even after I met her, she was stillThe Hindranceinside my head.”
“She is at that,” Zach agreed. “Yet, I dare say, we’ve made a point. Waltzing abets our cause, as it will have been noted that neither you nor I had or will dance with any other tonight.”
“That sounds rather presumptuous, my lord,” Emma returned with another grin. “I think I’ve gotten the hang of this dancing. I might try out these newly acquired skills on some poor—”
“Don’t do that,” he said, all good humor departed.
Emma clamped her lips. No. He wasn’t allowed to do that. She would not permit him to dampen this evening with his constant and bewildering desire to control her. “Lord Lindsey, I—”
The music ended. Abruptly, Emma thought, though she really hadn’t heard the notes in several minutes. The earl stopped moving but did not release her, in fact squeezed his fingers around her hand.
“It won’t come as easily, as perfectly, with anyone other than me,” he said. “Dancing, that is.”
Aiming for a lightness she certainly did not feel, she teased, “You are many things, my lord—overbearing, stubborn, dictatorial, to name a few. I will add arrogant to the list.”
He grinned and there was something knowing, defiant in his gaze. “Have I any good qualities? In your eyes?”
Emma tugged at her hand, and he allowed it to slip away. The floor had cleared of all but a few couples. Good qualities? Painfully handsome. Undeniably appealing. Sometimes very kind. Maybe what she’d dreamed of when she was a child, before she knew that noblemen did not fall in love with chambermaids.
“You are a very fine dancer.” She gave him one last sad smile and left him standing on the now nearly invisible chalked horse’s head on the dance floor.
Chapter Twelve
AN HOUR LATER, BOREDand somewhat disillusioned, as Lady Marston would barely permit her to speak to any persons and had threatened and taunted and embarrassed several swains away when they’d dared to approach, Emma wished the evening might end. The sooner she was back at the earl’s townhome, the sooner she might sleep, and then the sooner the morning would come, and she could be away. She might have liked to dance again, but feared the earl might be correct, that she would fail miserably unless in his arms. She’d watched with some delight several of the reels and cotillions but did not feel that she was prepared to put herself upon the floor with only an unsupported hope that she could properly perform any of the steps.
She glanced at the very ornate clock above the arched entryway. The lateness partially explained her fatigue; she was normally abed by now, as she was typically up with the sun. Dear Lord, but she would be tired tomorrow.
“We shall head downstairs for supper now,” said Lady Marston then. “I dislike standing in line like some beggar come to the soup kitchen. If we move now, we might find ourselves near to the front as it will not be served for a quarter hour, at least.”
Emma demurred. “Honestly, I cannot imagine putting anything in my belly at this hour of night.”
Lady Marston harrumphed. “That would explain your waiflike figure. Very well, stay here with Lady Walcott. Do not leave her side.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The old woman waddled away, using the cane more than she had for most of the night, causing Emma to wonder if she truly did have need of it. Feeling guilty that she’d left the lady to her own devices, Emma was just about the chase after her, offer her arm for added security when she saw that a man approached Lady Marston. They shared a laugh over something, and the gentleman extended his arm, which Lady Marston latched onto without hesitation.
The Gray Lady was deep in conversation with another matron, all but ignoring or forgetting Emma’s presence that when a man approached and stood before Emma, she smiled automatically, welcoming the diversion. He was exceedingly handsome, almost too handsome, if such a thing were possible.
“I have made inquiries,” the man said. “I couldn’tnotwonder who you might be, and how I might possibly be able to know you, Miss Ainsley.”
“You have me at a disadvantage,” she replied, facing him fully. He stood about the same height as the earl, with shoulders nearly as wide, and leveled a pair of vivid blue eyes upon her. The eyes, she noted, held evidence of frequent good humor, as told by the tiny, crinkled laugh lines in their corners.
“Tristan Noel, and please excuse my bluntness, but let us talk about you.” He leaned forward and said in a quiet voice, “I fear the minutes available to me for this audience will be cut short once Lady M gets wind of it.”
