“No.”
“Fiddle! Why not?”
“I don’t know how!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Min. Everyone knows how to dance. Listen to that!” The musicians were just starting up. “It’s a country dance, not the quadrille. Come here.”
To her horror, he took her hand and started to tow her towards the assembling lines of dancers.
“Jack!” she hissed, desperately trying not to draw anyone’s attention though everyone was already looking in their direction, Lord Orton’s choice of dance partner being a source of great interest. “What are you doing?”
“Proving you can dance.”
“But I can’t!”
“Of course you can. You used to caper around back home easily enough, Nell murdering the poor harpsichord, don’t you remember?”
“Only because you made me. And that was seven years ago.”
“So? You’ve danced since, haven’t you?”
“No!”
He flashed her a disbelieving look and shook his head. “Then it’s high time you did.”
They were nearly at the assembled lines of dance partners. She tried subtly to tug her hand free even as several heads turned in their direction.
“Please…” she whispered frantically. “What about your partner, surely they—”
“What partner?” He gave her a laughing look, then leant closer, his low voice a confiding brush of air against her ear. “I’m not dancing with anyone tonight, Min. I’m no fool. Breaking the hearts of sundry virgins isn’t at all to my taste.” He leant back a little, leaving the touch of his voice lingering on her jaw as he glanced down the line with a dark grin. “And neither is fending off their ambitious mothers. If I dance with anyone tonight, most of London will decide by breakfast that we’re to be married by summer.” He grimaced, depositing her in her position at the end of the set, and taking his place opposite her. “But we’re safe, Min. No one’s going to think that about us. And besides…” He might as well have winked, the way his smile hooked up. “I want to dance with you. It’ll be just like old times.”
Yes, exactly like old times, Jack doing whathewanted. But her furious whisper died unspoken behind her gritted teeth. There were too many people listening. And now the music started in earnest, Min’s heart thudding in time with it. Anxiously watching the line of women next to her for clues, she made the first step almost correctly and only a half second too late. The one after that was a disaster, and people were already staring at her. Jack eyed her, eyebrows lifting in concern. Devil take him for forcing her into this!
A whole column of white and cream silk swayed away to the left of her, all the ladies stepping left—no, right! She crashed into the girl next to her and ricocheted off, Jack taking a hasty step forward to stop her falling. His foot caught the hem of her dress. The rip was loud enough to be heard over the music—and over the shocked gasps and giggles as the line of dancers came to a staring halt.
But she was still stumbling, Jack’s foot all caught up in her hem, tangling it around her ankles. She lost her balancecompletely, the world tilted, and she cried out in alarm. Jack’s hand shot out to grab hers—another rip! Her glove this time, half the tattered remnant hanging from his outstretched fingers, horror on his face as she fell and hit the floor.
Five
Min’s cry of alarmturned into a sob of pain as she tried to sit up. Jack was on his knees at her side, saying he barely knew what to the crowd of gawkers clustered around them.
“Heat of the room… Needs some air… No, thank you…” He waved away a vinaigrette, a handkerchief, and several helping hands. He got Min to her feet, holding her arm clamped to his side as he began to walk her from the room. His manner was lighthearted, his assurances to the onlookers given smiling—best to laugh these things off—but he was horribly aware of the trembling arm he held and the sniffed-back tears.
There was a side room just outside the ballroom, which, given the presence of a fainting couch, seemed exactly designed for occasions such as this. Jack headed towards it. “Don’t worry, Min, absurdly slippery, the floors here. Apparently Garcell slipped right over the other day, halfway through an inadvisedly vigorous reel. Nearly took Lady Buckingham down with him—”
But before they could get to the couch, Min tore free of his grip and spun to face him, cheeks burning so red even the freckles were almost overpowered.
“How could you! I told you I couldn’t dance, and you still forced me to do it! You never listen! You never have! You said I haven’t changed a bit? Well neither have you, Jack! You’re still as much a bully as you ever were!”
What the…?
“Bully?” he repeated, astounded. “Me?”
“Yes!”
“No, come on, Min, that’s not right…” He reached for her arm, but she spun away from him, hiding her face in her hands. The line of her shoulders shook on a silent sob. He watched, sick and miserable, not knowing what to do. There were even freckles there, on her back—peeking out above the scooped curve of her dress, dotting the line of her spine and disappearing into the dark clustered ringlets that shone, abundant and warm.
The ringlets swayed as she gave her head an angry shake, wrestling her tears.
