Page 29 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
Havencrest’s face closed. There was little outward movement, only a smoothing of his brow and a tightening around his eyes. Antonia recognized the retreat behind a mask, for she had learned to school her emotions, too. She knew how to close herself off by arranging her features into a pleasant mask. She did so now, swallowing her sullen resentment.
“When dancing,” he began with the slightest hint of chill in his tone, “you must move with a relaxed upright carriage. Like this. Avoid looking at your feet. It’s less important to get the steps precisely correct than it is to keep the timing. Hence, the metronome.”
For a tall man, the duke possessed a certain grace of movement that spoke of hours of practice drilled into him. She straightened her shoulders in imitation of his posture.
“Good,” Havencrest said encouragingly. “Soften your chin. You may wish to stab me, but until I have the Heart’s Cry back in my possession, I must ask you to refrain.”
A smile tugged at Antonia’s lips. “You planned the entire thing, didn’t you? You knew it wasn’t allowed for young ladies to waltz at Almack’s without permission. A patently stupid rule, you know.”
“I agree. However, I am not one of the patronesses.” Havencrest smirked. “You are so…different from the debutantes who populate that establishment that I had honestly forgotten. Once Princess Esterhazy pointed out my error, however, I saw an opportunity and took it. Now, the steps are like this. One-two-three. Lift the heel, like so. Keep your ankles soft. Last night you were bouncing around like this.” He demonstrated a stiff up-down.
Antonia stifled a giggle by covering her mouth. “Was I really that bad?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Havencrest then glided forward a few steps to stand before her. “Now you try.”
Antonia mimicked his steps in a pattern that took her in the opposite direction from him.
“Well done, except you have to do it backwards,” he pointed out.
A kernel of spite sprouted in her breast. “But you didn’t demonstrate that. I’m afraid you’ll have to show me how it’s done.”
Havencrest crossed his arms over his broad chest. Antonia smirked. He quirked one eyebrow. “Are you serious, Miss Lowry?”
“Absolutely. You are the one who wished to play dancing master. Let’s see how well you like being hauled about the room without being able to see where you’re going, Lord Havencrest.”
“Malcolm. My given name is Malcolm.”
Antonia inhaled. His name echoed inside her head, a useless piece of information. “All right then, Malcolm. Let me see you dance backwards.” She flicked the metronome spindle into motion. Havencrest dropped his defensive stance and waltzed backward in a full circle. When he came to rest before her, Antonia clapped. “Bravo.”
“Your turn.” He stopped the metronome. “Go.”
Antonia held herself as she had a few moments before and minced across the floor backwards. Step-lift-lift.
“Passable. Keep going.”
Antonia bared her teeth in a forced smile. Step-lift-lift, step-lift-lift. One-two-boom.Antonia’s feet slipped out from beneath her and she went down so hard, her fall reverberated all the way up her spine into the base of her skull.
“Men have the easy part of dancing,” she declared. Havencrest was at her side, one knee bent, overwhelming her with his solicitous assistance.
“There’s nothing to bump into,” he chided gently as one large warm hand cupped her elbow. “Does it hurt?”
“My arse will recover. It’s only a bruise.” Antonia shifted and winced. Embarrassed warmth rolled through her abdomen. Why must he make her feel so…so…fragile? She wasn’t delicate in the least. Antonia scrambled up, aided by the too-close, very nice-smelling and warm Lord Havencrest. “Thank you. Malcolm.”
His name hovered between them in a fragile puff of intimate connection. Antonia found his lapel gripped tightly in her left hand with a flash of shock. She raised her gaze to meet his and found wary hope in the depths of his blue eyes. Around his pupils and at the edges of the iris were rims of deep navy. They stared for a long moment. Or perhaps it only felt that way. Her gaze skated down the sharp angle of his nose, then dropped to his mouth, which for once was not frozen in a stiff line of disapproval. No, his lips were soft at the corners and generously proportioned, like the rest of him. A slippery sensation made Antonia feel as if she might fall on her rump again. Perhaps the tumble had knocked her brains loose for she found herself leaning forward as if to…
Kiss him.
Antonia let go. She scrambled back, pulse hammering in her throat. Havencrest’s intense stare blazed, then banked. She swallowed. “Let’s try that again,” Antonia said. Her voice sounded shaky to her own ears, but she raised her chin and adopted her bestrelaxed and upright stancebefore lifting one heel to shuffle backwards.
“This is why you let your partner lead the dance,” Havencrest said. Antonia watched, anchored in place, as he strode forward to loom over her. He hesitated.
“Well? What are you waiting for, your lordship?” Antonia closed the gap and placed her hand on his shoulder. The contact resonated up her arm and into her belly. She did it because learning how to dance with him was the only way she was getting out of this predicament alive, and also, because she wanted to touch him so very badly. Her knees went wobbly when his other arm slipped around her waist.
“Look at me,” he commanded. Antonia’s breath shortened into tiny inadequate sips of air. It wasn’t the first time she had felt lust, but it was the first time she had experienced it with such force. Their gazes locked. Bullheaded as she was, Antonia lifted her chin in challenge. Havencrest’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “Ready?”
Before she could reply, they were moving. Antonia flubbed the first steps, but he held her firmly upright and a scant six inches from his front. One-two-three. Step-lift-lift. Trust him not to crash her into a wall. Antonia glanced down.
“Look at me,” Havencrest demanded. Malcolm. Did he have a nickname, the way Antonia’s mother had shortened her detested true moniker? Antonia forced herself to breath and locked her gaze back onto his. “Good,” he offered encouragingly. “One more time.”
Their bodies moved as a unit, mostly, except for moments when she tried to look at her feet instead of feeling her way through the shifts in weight.
“Nicely done,” Malcolm said.
They halted. Antonia let go and whirled away. Malcolm pulled back at the same time as though they had turned into opposing magnets pushing away from one another with invisible force.
“You are an excellent instructor, my lord,” Antonia declared as she fanned her burning face. “Yet I must ask, what does this have to do with stealing your grandmother’s necklace?”
