Very aware.
He stepped from the narrow shadow given off by a statue on its wide pedestal, moving into the corridor near her.
“I had hoped to claim you for a dance, if your card isn’t filled,” he said, still in that warm voice. “And then youdisappeared, and I thought I had lost my chance. But now I have been so fortunate as to find you just when I had given up hope.” Any sense of the melodramatic in his words was balanced by the twinkle in his eyes.
As it was, Angelica had forgotten about her dance card, which she’d stuffed into her reticule before meeting Miss Yarmouth. It was filled, of course, and she’d missed at least two dances. She thus expected the gentlemen in question would be looking for her to claim a different song. Which meant that she was overbooked.
But her mouth moved before she realized what she meant to say, and instead this came out: “Dance card? I do believe mine has gone missing, my lord.” She shrugged delicately, her little reticule with its two gold crowns and crumpled dance card dangling from her wrist. “And I cannot recall to whom I’ve promised this next selection.”
“As I said,” he replied, his green-gold eyes narrowing with humor, “how serendipitous that I should have come upon you. It would be a shame, to say the least, if you were resigned to standing against the wall because you had lost your card. Instead I shall rescue you from such a fate.”
He offered his arm, and Angelica, who was no stranger to curling her fingers around a man’s coat sleeve, stepped closer as she did so. At once, she became fully aware of not only his height and breadth, but also how terribly handsome he was. All bronze and honey-colored in hair and skin, but with bright emerald glints sharpening his golden eyes. He had thick brows and lashes, and full lips that made her mouth go dry when she looked at them. As he looked down at her, with a bit of a smile on those mobile lips and his eyes warmly considering her, Angelica’s breath became unsteady and her cheeks even a bit warmer.
Shaking off the momentary paralysis, she started toward the revelry. After the merest of hesitations, he came along with her…almost as if he’d been expecting her to go in a different direction. Away from the party.
As if Angelica Woodmore was foolish enough to slip away with a strange gentleman. If she were Maia, she’d sniff in annoyance at the insult—whether it was real or imagined. She wasn’t about to make the foolish mistake that Eliza Billingsly had made last Season, getting caught in a compromising position with that stoop-shouldered Mr. Deetson-Waring. They were now wed, and Eliza had never looked unhappier.
“I do hope Corvindale will allow you to waltz,” Dewhurst said as they approached the ballroom.
Angelica had a little stumble. “A waltz?”
The forbidden dance had recently become popular in Paris after being common for more than a decade in Vienna, but its music was rarely played in London. And even rarer were the debutantes who were allowed to partake in the scandalous moves.
Then she realized what else he’d said. “Corvindale? He’s given little attention to us thus far, my lord. I hardly fear he’ll impose his sanctions on me for a simple dance.”
It occurred to Angelica that, with Chas gone and the earl reluctant to take on the responsibility of her guardianship, she might attain a certain, albeit temporary, latitude in her actions. Not that she would do anything foolish…but a young woman could do with a bit of adventure now and again.
Unless she were Maia Woodmore, then she would sit primly and properly and wonder when her fiancé was going to return from the Continent.
Dewhurst was looking down at Angelica with a smile. “My dear Miss Woodmore, I greatly fear you are wrong about that.”
“About the earl?”
“No,” he said, the slow smile sending a bolt of warmth into her belly, “about the waltz being a simple dance.” His eyes narrowed again as humor lit them. “The waltz is sensual and graceful and smooth…and the steps might be considered simple by one who’s never executed them before. But the dance itself…it is quite an experience.”
Angelica felt, again, that sort of breathlessness. Yet she managed to keep her voice even and bright. Mildly flirtatious. “Indeed?”
“And if one is partnered by a good dancer, then, my dear Miss Woodmore, the experience is even more enjoyable. And I must confess…I am an excellent dancer.”
“Then I shall count myself fortunate you have deigned to partner me for my first waltz.”
“Your good fortune, but myinfinitepleasure.”
All at once, Angelica remembered their initial conversation, the one which they’d shared with Brickbank. And at the same moment, something flashed into her memory—a detail from the dream. The bridge. She recognized it, and had just remembered.
Compelled by a flood of guilt and determination, she paused just at the juncture of their corridor with another hallway and the foyer leading to the ballroom. Voices and laughter, along with the music, had become loud enough that she needed to turn to fully face Dewhurst in order to ensure he’d hear her.
“My lord,” she said, releasing his arm and looking up at him. He’d halted, of course, and now looked down at her with a bemused expression. That wide, squared-off jaw with its cleft and smooth, golden skin, complemented by full lips and unruly hair, combined to create a most attractive image. And it was clear he knew just what sort of effect he had on women.
“Feeling a bit apprehensive about dancing the waltz now, my dear miss?” he asked. “We could always take a stroll on the patio until the next quadrille.” Those eyes glinted wickedly.
She drew herself up, even crossing her arms in front of her. “No, that’s not it at all. It’s about your friend, Lord Brickbank.”
The levity evaporated from his expression, and for the first time since he’d approached her after she’d left Miss Yarmouth, Angelica saw that he was grave.
“Your warning was quite startling, indeed.”
“A warning I am certain he intends to disregard.”
