He approached her as soon as the set before the waltz had ended and he had returned his partner to her mother’s side. He sensed that Codaire—the man’s name had popped into his head earlier when he was not even trying to recall it—was making his way toward her too and quickened his pace to reach her first. It occurred to him as he did so that she might be disappointed if it was indeed Codaire she hoped to marry. But he did not slow down. The man could waltz with her after supper.
She was looking flushed and bright-eyed.
“Lord Hodges,” Mrs. Westcott said. “You have not missed one set all evening. You must be the most sought-after young man here tonight.”
“I can only be thankful, ma’am,” he said, “that there are enough ladies here willing to dance with me.”
She rapped him on the arm with her fan. “Their mamas would line them up to dance with you if it were not an ungenteel thing to do,” she said. “And their daughters would be only too happy to stand and wait. I may be slightly partial since you are my daughter-in-law’s brother, but I do believe you are the most handsome young man in the ballroom. Is he not, Lizzie?”
Colin laughed and hoped he was not blushing.
“You look very distinguished in black and white,” Elizabeth told him, her eyes twinkling.
“Which is a tactful way of saying I am not the most handsome man here?” he said. She had called him just that at the Boxing Day party, he recalled.
“I have seen two or three who might give you some competition,” she told him. “Lady Dunmore is certainly going to be able to boast tomorrow that she hosted the first grand squeeze of the Season so far, is she not?”
“Who would dare contradict her?” he asked. “She has been declaring it so, apparently, for the past week. The next set is to be a waltz. Will you dance it with me, Elizabeth?”
“Oh, do, Lizzie,” Mrs. Westcott urged. “You know how you love the waltz above all other dances. And poor Lord Hodges may be doomed to being a wallflower if you refuse, for most of the very young ladies will not be allowed to dance it.”
“You have exposed my worst fear, ma’am,” he said, and she laughed and tapped him on the arm again and turned her eyes upon her daughter.
“It would appear that I must do my charitable deed for the day and waltz with you, then,” Elizabeth said.
She had not told her mother about their private arrangement? He wondered why not. The two of them seemed close.
“It is the supper dance,” he reminded Elizabeth as he led her onto the floor.
“Is it indeed?” she said. “Does that mean we are going to have to converse for all of half an hour over our supper? I hope you have enough observations about the weather to keep awkward silences at bay.”
“If I have not,” he said, “I can always resort to assassinating the characters of a few of our fellow guests.”
“Ah, a man of infinite resources.” She laughed, and he felt instantly happy. He loved her laughter.
They stopped on the dance floor and stood face to face, smiling at each other. He set one hand behind her waist and held up his other hand for hers. She took it and set her left hand on his shoulder. She smelled good—of a lightly floral scent with hints of something more spicy. He was not good at identifying perfumes, only at appreciating them—or not. Most girls he had danced with emphasized the floral a bit much.
“I wonder,” he said, “if there will be hand clapping and foot stamping and a few exuberant whoops tonight.”
“Poor Lady Dunmore would swoon quite away and never lift her head in public again,” she said.
The music began at that moment, and he twirled her into the steps of the waltz, noting, as he had on Boxing Day, how light she was in his arms, how her spine arched inward beneath his hand, how she followed his lead without faltering and without causing him to fear that he would tread on her dancing slippers or that she would trip over his shoes.
There were other couples waltzing, though not as many as for the other dances. Most of the very young people stood on the sidelines watching and trying not to look wistful. Ross Parmiter was waltzing with Lady Jessica Archer, John Croft with Miss Cowley, Colin’s first partner of the evening—and looking at her, interestingly enough, rather as if he was falling in love. The ballroom smelled like a garden. There was cool air wafting through the open French windows along one side of the room. Candlelight from the chandeliers overhead seemed to swirl with the rhythm of the dance.
But after a minute or two Colin stopped noticing his surroundings. He even forgot the ease with which they danced together, he and Elizabeth. He felt only the exhilaration of waltzing with a partner who loved the dance as he did and moved in his arms as though she fit there. As though she belonged there. She danced with a slight smile on her face, more dreamy than deliberate, a sort of Mona Lisa smile. And this was how dancing should always be, he thought. It could go on for all of the rest of the evening as far as he was concerned. The circle of their bodies and the space between were a warm and private world within a larger world of color and music and dance.
But inevitably the music drew to an end.
“We did agree, did we not, Lady Overfield,” he said as they stopped dancing but did not immediately let go of each other, “that we would waltz at every ball of the Season?”
“We did indeed, Lord Hodges,” she replied, the dreamy smile fading to be replaced by her more habitual twinkle. “And I shall hold you to the promise. You waltz better than any other partner I have ever had. But do not tell my brother that, if you please.”
“My lips are sealed.” He offered his arm to lead her into the supper room and was very glad he had chosen this waltz rather than the one later. He felt happy and lighthearted, as he had not felt since he left the country. For a while he could forget about the weight of his self-appointed task of reordering his life and simply enjoy the company of a poised, beautiful woman.
And I shall hold you to the promise.He felt flattered. No—he felthonored.
“Let us make it thefirstwaltz at each ball, shall we?” he said.
