Thus it was a smaller crowd that moved to the edge of the floor, composed of the more experienced, those who had spent time in town and had learned the dance, and those who were already married and presumed to be well acquainted with their husband’s chests.
Cherry knew how to waltz, thanks to lessons from a dancing master who loved the dance. He’d passed his enthusiasm along to his pupil, and now she loved the lilt, the sway, the smooth dips and turns. When with a partner who matched her steps, it was a complete and utter joy. She’d experienced several moments like that in town, but they had been few and far between. Her partners had given every appearance of enjoying their dance, but she’d not cared particularly for any of them, and had made that clear in her own polite way.
So she blinked as the musicians tuned up, and almost jumped when a hand touched her shoulder.
“I probably don’t need to ask, but do you waltz?”
Garrett was standing a little behind her, an amused smile lighting his eyes.
She couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, Lord DeVarne. I waltz. And I presume you do, as well.” A wicked imp of mischief took over her tongue. “But can you match my expertise?”
“Let’s find out.” He extended his hand formally, allowing her to put hers in it, and lead her to join the others at the edge of the floor.
It took no more than a minute or so for Cherry to discover thatyes, Lord Garrett DeVarne could waltz. And he did soextremely well.
Their respective heights allowed for a comfortable position, and Garrett’s firm touch was all that she needed to begin the leisurely traverse from one end of the room to the other.
“You are allowed to look at me, you know,” he said quietly, leaning toward her just a little to make sure she could hear his words.
Her gaze darted up. “Of course. I’m simply enjoying this unexpected pleasure.”
He chuckled and pulled her just a little closer. “As am I.”
They circled the floor, which seemed full of swirling couples, the colours of the gowns contrasting beautifully with the sober tones of the gentlemen’s evening attire.
As if by mutual accord, they turned, swayed, reversed and slowed; Cherry’s heart beating faster each moment as Garrett led her effortlessly through the measures, and she matched him step for step.
Daring to glance at his face, she saw something in his eyes that almost made her miss a step, something that sent a shiver of surprise down her spine and a bolt of something else through her body.
The heat, the emotions—she felt them physically, and caught her breath as he swirled her once again, their movements as well timed as the rhythm driving the dance itself.
She couldn’t help her smile, and relished the warmth that spread as she an answering smile curve his lips.
“So am I a match for your expertise, Cherry?”
She paused, staring into his eyes, ignoring the Village Hall and the rest of the guests as they whirled by.
“I rather think you may well be, Garrett.”
His hand squeezed hers. “Something to think about, I would say.”
She swallowed, realising that the end of the dance was near. All she could do was nod, since her feelings were threatening to choke her, and she couldn’t seem to think of the right words, anyway.
Her final curtsey matched Garrett’s formal bow, even though her knees were shaky beneath her skirts. “Thank you, my Lord. A lovely dance.”
His smile was quite acceptable, his hand formally extended to help her rise. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Trease.”
How she managed to walk steadily beside him, smiling, laughing a little as a few friends complimented them on their waltzing skills, and brushing off the curious glances while ignoring the few censorious ones. Not all who had come to the evening’s event approved of such a blatantly sensual display.
“My goodness, you two certainly showed them how it’s done,” said Lady Hazel, eyes wide. “Garrett, you are a perfect example of why gentlemen should always be taught to dance.”
“And to think you protested, said you hated every minute of it, and never, unless there was a pistol to your head, would you take to the floor.” Lady Henrietta grinned.
Garrett rolled his eyes. “Mama, I was fifteen.”
“Nevertheless…” she replied, with all the confidence of someone who had swaddled him. “You did the family proud, darling. I’m not sure who else could have possibly matched Miss Cherry’s grace and elegance.”
Cherry, who had watched this exchange with amusement, barely managed not to roll her eyes. “I agree, my Lady. It is always a pleasure to find a well-matched dance partner, be it waltz or cotillion.” She turned to Garrett. “That was indeed most pleasant, sir.”
