“What is it you see when you look into this room?” he asked.
She paused and thought a moment. “I see the sunlight from the window over there. I see dark shades of your clothing.”
“Can you see my face?” He wondered whether she had any idea what he looked like.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
He couldn’t imagine such an existence where he couldn’t see someone’s face. It bothered him to know that she would never know what anyone looked like. But there weren’t any words he could think of except, “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“I can still see you,” she said quietly. “Just in a different way.”
He didn’t understand what she meant. Then she continued. “You have dark hair, and you’re taller than me. Your shaving soap reminds me of fir trees at Christmas.” After another pause, she said, “You walk around and stop frequently, as if you’re thinking of something. And right now, you’re in a great deal of pain, but you don’t want to admit it. And it has nothing to do with my feet on yours.”
Her quiet conclusion startled him. “How could you be knowing such a thing?”
“Your voice. You sound as if you haven’t slept in at least a day, if not longer.”
“Not since the supper party,” he admitted. “I often get... very bad headaches.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it sounded better than confessing the stomach pains.
“I’m sorry. I know many women who suffer from those. I’ve heard that a quiet, dark room can help.”
He nodded and then realized she probably couldn’t see the nod. “It does, aye. But I haven’t slept or eaten well in some time.” For a moment, he wished he could confess the truth to her, that he was dying. But it would only frighten her off, and right now, this woman was the best marital prospect he had. He liked her a great deal. Yet, he sensed that she would not be one to rush into marriage.
The dancing master, Mr. Brown, arrived at that moment, along with two other couples. Miss Bartholomew seemed disconcerted, but Cormac murmured, “It’s only Miss Cooper and Lady Chelsea. And I believe that’s Lord Malfield and Mr. Alan Goodson.”
“You remember their names, but you don’t remember mine?”
He didn’t miss the chiding in her voice. “I could be wrong. And I can’t say why your name won’t stick in my memory. But I suppose it’s because... when I’m around someone like you, my thoughts scatter. The others mean nothing to me. Whereas you’ve captured my full attention. It may be that’s the reason why.”
*
Emma couldn’t stopthe wayward thrill that passed over her, even knowing that Lord Dunmeath probably didn’t mean anything by it. It was a throwaway remark, one that held no import.
But no man had ever said anything like that to her before.Don’t let yourself believe him.Lord Dunmeath had been kind, but he’d admitted that he was only here to satisfy his curiosity. To him, she was like an unusual creature, one who fascinated him with her blindness.
A knot settled into her stomach when Mr. Brown asked them to form two lines.Oh no.It was country dances again.
Emma swallowed hard, already knowing what was about to happen. With so many people in such a small space, undoubtedly she was going to make a mess of herself. But Mrs. Harding had been adamant about these lessons. Did she want her to face her worst fears? Was that it?
“Don’t be afraid,” came the voice of Lord Dunmeath. “I’m going to stand across from you. And I’m going to talk you through every moment.”
He took her hand and led her to the end of the line, which ensured that they would be last. The dancing master instructed the men to bow and the ladies to curtsy. That part was easy enough. But when the patterns began, Emma’s nerves tightened. She felt lightheaded, and with so many scents and the sound of so many feet, she started to grow disoriented.
I don’t want to be here.
She took a step backward, wondering if she could safely escape when Lord Dunmeath’s voice interrupted. “After you step toward me, keep your hand in mine and turn in a circle,” he said quietly. “You’ll end up on the opposite side of the line.”
She hesitated, but finally took a few awkward steps forward, and he used his hand to turn her in the right direction. “Perfect. Now step back and we’ll do the same with your other hand.”
His deep baritone voice had an Irish lilt that offered friendly encouragement. She swallowed hard but obeyed his instructions. When his hand touched hers, another flare of heat slid through her.
“We’ll be switching partners now,” he said gently. “Take a slight step to your right and hold out your hand. The gentleman will take it and turn you twice in a circle.”
Emma had no time to think, but she took one step and held out her hand. Thankfully, a gentleman took it, and as Lord Dunmeath had predicted, he turned her in a circle.
“Left hand,” she heard him say, and when she turned with her left hand, the gentleman took it and led her in a circle once again.
“Right hand,” she heard again, and when she stretched hers out, the others rested their hands atop each other. Lord Dunmeath reached back for her other hand and discreetly guided her into a larger circle. She was utterly lost in the patterns, but she was aware of him. The scent of his skin allured her, and she realized that she was letting herself become too vulnerable.
