His hand was outstretched, his pale eyes glittering behind the simple black mask. Without hesitation, Imogen reached out and took it, allowing him to lead her to the floor. At the touch of his fingers, all of her uncomfortable aches and twinges fled. This was what she had been waiting for all evening.
It was a waltz. No other dance could have made this moment more perfect. And she was determined to enjoy every bit of it. She closed her eyes and felt his hand press against the small of her back, his other gripping her own. She could even feel the heat of his body, though they were the appropriate distance apart. And then he began to move, and it was as if she were flying. Nothing else had ever felt so lovely as being twirled about in the arms of the man she loved. She was determined to forget about tomorrow. For now she would embrace every second.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself tonight.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling wide. “Now I am.”
“You weren’t before?”
She shook her head.
“You certainly gave the impression that you were.”
The words gave her pause. A strange foreboding began to break through her joy. “No,” she said slowly. “It was pleasant at first, I suppose, to be the recipient of so much attention. But it was getting tiring.”
“You must be a better actress than I gave you credit for. It certainly looked as if you were enjoying yourself. Quite a bit, actually.”
She stumbled before righting herself. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t believe I stuttered.”
She stared up at him in disbelief. “Caleb, what is wrong with you?”
Something mean flashed in his eyes. “What is wrong with me? I could ask you the same thing. You have had every man here panting after you.”
Anger lanced through her. “I’ve had enough of your abuse. I’d rather not cause a scene, but if you do not deposit me at the side of the room this instant I will leave you here on the floor, I swear I will.”
He considered her, seemingly calculating whether she was bluffing. Finally, giving a small nod, he began dancing her away from the center of the floor. But instead of stopping at the side, he sailed right out the open doors leading to the garden.
Once out in the cool night air, he abruptly released her from his embrace. He then took hold of her hand and, dragging her along behind him, moved away from the lights of the ball and into the darkness of the garden.
“Wait,” Imogen cried, “where are you taking me?”
He glanced back at her. “We need to discuss this, and we cannot do it in a ballroom full of people.”
Imogen tugged ineffectively on his hand as she stumbled along behind him. “There is nothing to discuss. You are acting like a child, and I do not want to deal with your strange mood.”
But he ignored her and continued on. She finally gave up trying to free herself and accepted the fact that they would have this out whether she liked it or not. Although what “it” was, she truly hadn’t a clue.
Everything was a dark blur to her. In the distance she could see candles glowing brightly behind the mullioned windows of the house, obscure rectangles of golden light, but everything else was unidentifiable. They finally came close to the building and she was able to get an idea of where they were. From the moonlight sparkling off the many windows, she guessed they had come to the orangery. Caleb opened the door.
But the rustle of cloth, as well as the soft moans that reached their ears, told Imogen that the orangery certainly wouldn’t do.
Heat suffused her face. Caleb swore softly and closed the door. Tugging again at her arm, he continued on. He ducked through a side entrance into the manor house, to a hall that was blessedly devoid of people, and began working his way down the vast expanse, trying doors as he went. Each room was either occupied or locked.
“Can no one control themselves at this blasted gathering?” Caleb muttered to himself as he tried yet another door and found that some other, more amorous couple had gotten there before them.
“I am quite through being treated like a pull toy,” Imogen stated as he towed her along yet again.
Suddenly he stopped. Imogen ran into the solid wall of his back and glared up at him.
“Damnation, there’s only one place I can think of that will guarantee us privacy.” And with that they were off again.
Imogen had had just about enough. The elaborate little heels were blistering her toes and she had lost her breath long ago from the tight stays. The ridiculously large hoops swung about her, making the dress catch on everything within reach. And she had more pins jabbed into her scalp than had a right to be there. She was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than a quiet room to scrub the rouge from her face and soak in a tub of hot water.
And now here was Caleb, acting as if she had offended him in some way. His grip remained firm as he pulled her through a hidden passage to the servants’ hall. Skirting the busy throng of footmen and maids, he dragged her up several flights of stairs until they were on the guest floor. Soon he was pushing her through a door, closing it firmly behind him.
She moved further into the room once he finally released her. Rubbing her hand, she glared at him.
