Page 61 of Everything But the Earl
“I suppose we should leave,” said Lark.
But Anthony plucked a glass of wine from a passing tray. “If everyone else here is drunk, and if everyone thinksI’mdrunk, maybe I should just indulge myself.” He took a big gulp.
Lark rolled his eyes. “I have better wine at home.”
A compelling point. Anthony drank the rest quickly and motioned toward the door.
They stumbled outside, where Anthony’s carriage was suddenly nowhere to be seen. A Rutherford footman offered to see about fetching it. As they walked forward, Lark, who wasdefinitelydrunk, tripped on something invisible on the walkway. Anthony reached out and grabbed him before he tumbled to the ground.
“This is why you lose at cards,” Anthony observed.
Lark hung on Anthony’s arm and gave him a moony look. “You’revery handsome, you know.”
Anthony grinned. “I do know.”
Someone, likely another drunk reveler, stepped out of the shadows and into Anthony’s peripheral vision. Anthony pushed Lark into a standing position, but Lark seemed disinclined to let go of Anthony’s arm.
Anthony glanced at the man and saw it was Samuel Gordon, the third son of the Marquess of Barstow. Gordon was a weasel, but he had the ear of some powerful people.
“Nice night,” Anthony observed. “I hope you enjoyed the ball.”
“I did, I did,” said Gordon. “Did Waring drink a little too much?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Gordon stepped forward. “You should know, you aren’t as clever as you think.”
What the devil did that mean? “Likely true, but I don’t see the significance.”
“Be careful, Beresford.”
He looked like he was about to say something else, but Anthony’s carriage finally returned. Anthony tugged Lark toward the carriage and said, probably louder than he needed to, “I will see that Waring gets home. Toodle-loo, Gordon.”
When they got to Lark’s house, Lark had sobered up somewhat and led Anthony into the parlor and poured them each a glass of wine, but Anthony didn’t need it now. He felt on edge.
“Gordon is onto us,” Lark said.
“Or he thinks he is. Let him present evidence.”
“But Anthony—”
“Hush. I do not want to speak of it tonight.” Lark’s staff had been dismissed, they were quite alone, and so Anthony said, “All I wanted to do tonight was dance with you.”
Lark looked somewhat alarmed by that. “Dance withme?”
“While I’m certain the very notion offends all of your training andsensibilities, it is not so absurd. Husbands and wives dance together all the time. Why should I not desire to dance with the person I love.”
“I don’t know how to dance with a man.”
“Sure you do. You have to face other men in country dances sometimes.”
Anthony approached Lark slowly. He took Lark into his arms.
“There’s no music,” Lark said.
So Anthony hummed the tune of a waltz he knew and then he whisked Lark around the room. Lark laughed but went along with it, following as if he were the woman in the pair. Itwasfunny and awkward, but it was nice, too.
Anthony slowed it down, drawing out the pace of the song he was humming, and Lark slowed with him. Anthony met Lark’s gaze, and they stared at each other as they moved in a slow circle. Then Anthony trailed his fingers along Lark’s arm and all but came to a stop.
