Page 3 of An Unwitting Alliance
“Can you not guess it while we are dancing? I am sure it will come back to you in a trice.”
She was amused—he was certain of that—and also intelligent. But was she brave enough to take his bait?
“Since my companion deserted me, I suppose I will deign to dance with you... even if you are being most obtuse about our introduction.”
He stared at her and chuckled in disbelief. She woulddeignto dance with him? So Miss Smith thought his company beneath her. How incredibly irritating... almost humbling. He wondered if he could, at the very least, change her opinion of him.
He held out his arm and grinned as she took it. Her smile grew in response. He might be worthless in most areas, but he’d been told his smile was contagious. Let his smile work its magic now. He intended to make her laugh again so he could see her head fall back in utter contentment as he’d seen earlier, and then he must do the dirty deed to rush her from the room. If only he weren’t a loyal friend.
“Perhaps there is something familiar about you.” Miss Smith’s blue-gray eyes searched his features again as she stood across from him near the end of the line of dancers.
“I knew you would remember with time.” He almost wished hecouldclaim her as an acquaintance.
Her whole expression grew conflicted. “Are you going to torture me further? At least tell me when we met.”
“Well, did you ever dream of a knight in shining armor? Or a handsome prince?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Then you probably dreamed of my face.” It was a ridiculous comment, but his goal was only to make her laugh.
The two narrow lines of her brow lifted like wings of a songbird. “Are you saying I met you in my dreams?” A laugh tumbled out, and her head fell back just as he had hoped. It was far more enchanting than the first time—louder and freer—and he was tempted to try to make it happen again and again. “I was wrong,” she said. “Really and truly, I’venevermet anyone like you, or I would certainly remember. You must’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
Alas, the ruse was over. Though, it had been delightful while it had lasted. “Don’t you travel this way often?” Everyone in these parts knew who he was, even if he did not know them. But the real question was would she answer him and remain his partner or excuse herself since they clearly lacked a proper introduction?
He hoped for the first because, ruse or not, he desperately wanted to dance with her. Someone ought to congratulate him for his sudden change of heart.
She shook her head, but her feet remained firmly in place. “I have never been here before, nor will I likely return since I came as a companion to my aunt. My parents do not travel much, so I consider this experience tonight a rare opportunity.”
Ah, so it was her aunt that had set her on Ian, and when Miss Smith likely had her own heart set on Mr. Gibbons. It was kind of Ian to have convinced Mr. Gibbons to at least dance once with Miss Smith. A ball was the perfect place to confuse a young woman’s heart. Of course, Tom was never confused. Not even the beautiful Miss Smith could sway his years of resolution. Even if her swift tongue and pretty laugh tempted him, the Rebels wouldn’t let him falter. They had certain rules against running to the altar—a sort of marriage pact—and Tom was just as duty bound to it as he was to his mother.
He glanced behind him and noticed a second line of dancers forming. Lady Kellen should be pleased with how crowded the dance floor was becoming and that her guests were so readily entertained. And this meant a few more minutes of conversation with his partner while the other couples gathered.
“Well, what do you think of the town? Is it not perfection itself?” Tom was never happier than when he’d escaped London’s dirt and smells and come home to his beloved Brookeside. This year, he was especially happy to be home for the summer after several months of traveling the Continent with his parents.
“Lovely, yes.” Miss Smith glanced to the couple standing beside them on the right in their grouping of six, both elegantly solemn, like two Grecian statues, and to the couple on the left of them, both lavishly overdressed. “Though, I find I am a little intimidated by the company at large. Indeed, everything I have seen here is excessively fine.”
Her honesty and shameless vulnerability impressed him. “I can imagine how you feel. I have traveled extensively, and no one throws a party like Lady Kellen.”
The caller stepped forward and loudly announced the dance, Grimstock. The orchestra strummed the first lines of a melody, and a flutist joined in, trilling a sound resembling a shepherd’s tune with a medium tempo.
“Grimstock?” Tom muttered under his breath. Of course an older song was selected, one his generation would call outdated. Did he even remember the steps? When the gentleman next to him turned to his left, Tom followed suit. They walked up the line a few steps and then back a few steps. He turned to face Miss Smith, the next part of the routine coming back to him. A quick step to either side, and then he spun around and took her hand. He resisted clasping it fully, although the temptation was stronger than he would have predicted. The line progressed upward again and back to its original place.
Tom grinned. He was actually enjoying himself. Why did he avoid dancing so often? Miss Smith’s graceful steps glided into place. Was it his partner who made the dance far more enjoyable than any he remembered?
They repeated the combination once more, and the next figure was introduced. All the men turned to their right and began weaving in and out around each other down the line. His eyes inadvertently followed Miss Smith. Lands, but she was lovely. The beautiful distraction caused him to weave through one too many men. Whirling around, he stepped backward from the dancing to gain his bearings and somehow got caught in the wrong grouping’s rotation. Forced to jog back to his place, he met Miss Smith’s comical expression and grimaced.
Now he remembered why he detested dancing so much. Too much room for error. Since he had missed a few steps, he reached for her to prepare for the next movement. But thinking with her hands in his was easier said than done. Fortunately, this part was simple enough that he could not muck it up. Together, hand in hand, they moved down the line, the rush of his heart matching the tempo of the music.
“What happened to you?” Miss Smith asked, her lips twitching.
“I was sightseeing,” Tom joked, releasing her so they could weave around a couple. They joined back together for a moment, only to part again until they were back to their original place.
“Sightseeing, you say?” She laughed. “I should have joined you.”
He might not have lost his way if she had. He linked arms with her. “It’s not so terribly hard. I’ll demonstrate.” Their gazes remained connected as he swung her around faster than the tempo necessitated and circled thrice while everyone else circled once. A small squeal of pleasure erupted from her mouth when he released her. However, her feet fumbled as she stepped back. The overtrimmed woman next to Miss Smith skipped to the side before Miss Smith could move out of her way, colliding into her.
Sucking in his breath, Tom reached out to steady Miss Smith, but his hand barely caught a touch of her glove before she was knocked to the ground in a heap with her hand catching her before the rest of her followed.
