His violet eyes gazed very directly into her own—they smiled slightly.
Ah, she thought, the magic of it.
The sheer wonderful magic.
Then the music began.
It occurred to her afterward that a number of other couples had taken to the floor with them. She even had one fleeting memory of seeing the Earl of Edgecombe twirling Frances about one corner of the room, holding her rather closer than Mr. Huckerby would approve of. She could recall the swirling colors of the ladies’ gowns, the warm glow of the candles, the sounds of voices and laughter, the sight of a number of people gathered at the sidelines, watching.
But at the time she was oblivious to it all. She was aware only of the music and the dance and the man who held her. She performed the steps faultlessly if a little woodenly for the first couple of minutes, and she held her body stiff and as far distant from his as the positioning of their arms allowed. But then came the moment when she raised her eyes from his intricately tied neckcloth to look into his own eyes—and he smiled at her and she relaxed.
“Oh,” she said a little breathlessly, “Idoremember how.”
“And so,” he said, “do I. I hope I live up to the exacting standards of your Mr. Huckerby.”
She laughed. “Yes, I would have to say you do.”
They did not speak after that, but it seemed to her afterward that they gazed into each other’s eyes the whole time they danced. It ought to have caused intense discomfort. Gazing into another person’s eyes from such a short distance even when conversing always gave her the urge to take a step back or to glance away from time to time. But she felt no such urge with Viscount Whitleaf. They danced, it seemed to her, as if they were one harmonious unit.
She remembered the quickly suppressed mental image she had had almost two weeks ago of waltzing in his arms. That dream had come true after all.
And, ah, it was exhilarating beyond words.
But it could not last forever, of course. Eventually she could sense that the music was coming to an end.
“Oh,” she said, “it is over.”
She had been quite unaware of the passing of time.
“But it was lovely,” she added after the music had stopped altogether. “Thank you, my lord. Will you take me to Frances?”
She must not be greedy, she told herself. She might well have been doomed to watch everyone else waltz while she pretended to be enjoying herself as an onlooker. She would always have this memory of her first—and probably her last—waltz.
“It is customary, you know,” he said, leaning his head a little closer to hers, “for a man to lead his partner at the supper dance into the refreshment room. Will you take supper with me?”
“Is it suppertime already?” she asked as she looked about to see that yes, indeed, the room was fast emptying. “Oh, I am so glad. Yes, I will. Thank you.”
And so, she thought happily as he led her off to the refreshment room, her half hour with him was to be extended, even if they were to sit with other people.
What a very precious evening this was. With only three days left of her stay at Barclay Court, it had become a fitting finale for a memorable holiday.
Though therewerestill three days left.
9
Peter found them two seats wedged between the teapot and thewindow before going to the food table. One thing a person could always count upon at a country assembly, he thought appreciatively as he filled plates for them both, was plenty of good food.
“Where will you go when you leave here?” Miss Osbourne asked him after he had set down their plates and fetched some tea and seated himself opposite her at their small table. “Will you go home?”
“To Sidley Park?” he said. “Not immediately. I do not wish to intrude upon the end of my mother’s latest house party there.”
“There is a house party at your own home, yet you are not there to host it?” She raised her eyebrows as she selected a small cucumber sandwich and bit into it.
“The thing is,” he said, “that my mother is desperately trying to marry me off. There is someone there whom she wishes me to court—and all the other guests would have been well aware of the fact if I had gone there.”
“You do not wish to marry?” she asked him.
“I most certainly do not,” he assured her. “Or at least, I do not wish to betrappedinto a marriage not entirely of my own choosing.”
