Page 103 of Sense and Suitability
And, as if her body and mind took a sudden disconnect from each other, she placed her gloved hand in his. The man truly shouldn’t hold such power over her mental faculties.
But something in his demeanor, in the secure way he drew her onto the dance floor into one of the triple minor sets, proclaimed a confidence she’d not seen since... her face grew cold.
Since when she’d thought their futures aligned.
But not now! Dancing with him could only invite gossip, and gossip could ruin everything for him.
What was he thinking?
“What are you doing?” she whispered as they took their positions, grateful they were the third pair in the set, affording them a measure of privacy. “This is not a good idea, Lord Ravenscross.”
“Saving a lady from that walking cask of brandy is always an excellent idea.” The teasing quirk of his lips failed to match the man she’d spoken with in the street only a few days earlier.
It fit the man in the garden, though. Too rash. Too unguarded for his own good.
Had he lost his senses again?
And she wasn’t certain whether to very unfashionably run from the room or reprimand him for being so unguarded. Well, since it would cause a greater scene to leave the dance floor, she acquiesced to the moment. Perhaps this could be her goodbye—a memory to carry with her as their paths inevitably diverged.
“You’ve taken to heroics this evening, then?”
“Heroics?” Their turn came, drawing them into the steps, away from each other for only a moment and then back together, his gaze finding hers at every turn. “Oh yes. I have my sights set on being a hero, Miss Lockhart.”
His palm warmed her waist through the fabric of her gown. No other dance of the evening had her responding in such a breathless way, no matter how intricate the footwork. “And is there a reason for this sudden devotion to gallantry, my lord?”
The strong muscles of his arms tensed at her back as he steered her through the steps, their bodies closer. Kissing-close with just the right angle.
What a thought! Her cheeks heated. And yet, her attention dropped to his lips as if to ascertain the exact trajectory.
Have mercy! Perhaps she should leave the room straightaway! She stumbled a moment, barely noticeable, but Simon noticed.
“I’ve finally gotten the proper perspective, Miss Lockhart. And I must say, it’s been difficult to put my transformation on display for you because you’ve been in such high demand tonight.”
“Hardly,” she countered, averting her gaze from the intensity in his eyes. What was he doing? He seemed almost... giddy. “One persistent suitor is scarcely a testament to my popularity.”
“A persistent suitor?” His lips twitched up on one corner as they drew close again. “I suppose then that you could say the same for me.”
“You?” She nearly missed her next step. What did he mean? He was certainly no Mr. Rushing. The heat in her cheeks clearly attested to that fact. “Except, unlike Mr. Rushing, you would not risk propriety in front of an entire ballroom.”
His grip tightened subtly, almost as though he were pulling her just a fraction closer, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. “Perhaps I’ve grown reckless.”
Her breath hitched. There was something in his tone—somethingsimmering beneath the surface. She could feel the warmth of his body acutely now, the rhythm of their movements a magnetizing force with every step.
“Or perhaps,” she ventured, her voice barely audible, “you’ve forgotten what’s at stake.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Miss Lockhart. If anything, I’ve realized what truly matters.” His gaze trailed over her face as though committing every detail to memory. “Or rather, who.”
Her heart trembled at the intimacy of his words. For a fleeting moment, she forgot everything—his aunt’s stipulations, their differing social standings, the curious eyes around them. Even the music faded into a distant hum.
What was he saying?
They parted again, allowing the other two pairs a turn as they stared across the short distance between them. His smile faded, replaced by an expression so earnest that it left her more unsettled than ever. Then the dance brought her back to his arms. “I know I hurt you, Emme.”
And as strange as it sounded, the music gave them an intimacy and freedom little else could. Distracting others. Crowding over their conversation so that only they could truly hear each other as the others danced their part. She studied his face, trying to make sense of his behavior. She read his expressions and lips as he continued, “I was lost and afraid. Overwhelmed by responsibilities I hadn’t expected. And I failed. I failed everyone, but most of all, I failed you. I should never have acted on my feelings in your garden without being able to offer you a future. Forgive me.”
Their turn came to an end again, and she hesitated to follow the dance rules, her mind reeling. He stood only a short distance across from her, dancers framing them on either side, but only his eyes communicated with her, inspiring a hope she didn’t fully understand. Finally, witha quick step and a touch of hands, they drew near each other again. “I did little to discourage the rumors about my romantic exploits because I thought, in time, they might lessen your regrets.”
What?He’d wanted her to hate him in order to protect her? What an idiot! She fixed him with a glare. “So you thought turning yourself into a rake would help me?”
