“Perhaps I’m experiencing the slightest touch of trepidation,” she admitted.
“It’s only a couple dances. What do you have to worry over?”
“I may have a few worries over how your attentions might affect my reputation as a widow,” she told him. “Or rather, how your reputation with widows might affect mine.”
Laughter lit his mossy green eyes, a dimple slashing deep into his left cheek. “I’m sure you’ve nothing to fret over.” He leaned closer, his brogue dropping to a husky whisper. “As long as none of them can read my mind, that is.”
Such an outrageous thing to say, but it flooded her thoughts with the kiss that might have happened again. Snapping out her fan, Prim set off a few quick flicks to cool her cheeks before anyone might notice her rising blush and comment on it.
“They needn’t see into your mind,” she scolded. “Only into your past. Before this evening, I hadn’t thought about how the gossips might link us by something more scandalous than serious courtship.”
“I swear, I will do nothing to damage your reputation in any way,” he assured her. “Now, are you ready to begin?”
Over his shoulder, Prim shot a look at her escorts, still lingering near the door she’d departed from. Jeremy had disappeared but Shane had arrived. He and Leachman were engrossed in what could only have been an argument of some sort. Probably about her.
She’d had enough of it.
At the risk of her reputation or not, she needed to find the same faith James had for her in herself.
“Quite ready.” Her nod was firm. “Where do we start?”
“A dance or two,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “We’ll see where it goes from there.”
CHAPTER 15
It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretense of being asked, of being given a choice, and the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to so the very thing—whatever it be!
~ Jane Austenfrom Mansfield Park
Driven in part by fashion, bared arms and nearly bared bosom abounded in the Harknesses’ ballroom. Women aged from debutante to matron flaunted what gifts God had given them in varying degrees of exposure. Whether it be for the benefit of a specific man, the gender as a whole, or their own vanity. It was the way it’d always been regardless the continent James was upon.
Except for Prim. Her gown of forest green silk moiré was more suitable to a dinner party than a ball. It didn’t even have a ready loop on the skirt for her to circle around her wrist as they danced. She had to hold her skirts out with her free hand. Oh, the dress was fashionable enough with its voluminous sleeves covered in netting and ornate trim of jet beads, and the swags of black fringe along the bodice and around her skirts, but the neckline barely revealed even a hint of collarbone. From there up, any expanse of flesh was concealed beneath the draping jet and amber strands of her choker.
She dressed as a proper widow, deserving of the reputation she’d gained. He’d meant it when he said he’d do nothing to risk it.
Still, she looked so lovely, that first glimpse of her when she’d spoken had nearly made a stuttering fool of him. Her expressive amethyst eyes, made all the more vivid by her green gown, filled him with pleasure. How had he ever thought her plain?
She waltzed beautifully as well, with far more polish than she’d shown on the ice rink. Since her hand was light on his shoulder rather than clinging to him as she had on ice skates, he mourned her skill.
Deviously, he put some variation into his Viennese Waltz, rotating her this way and that until her hand tightened on his arm. Her beguiling eyes lit with pleasure.
She was so easy to please. Too easy. Such a shame her life contained so little joy that the tiniest dose thrilled her so.
He was definitely doing the right thing.
Besides that mission, James was discovering some delight of his own in her company. He’d grown restless of late, weary of the mind-numbing droning of society blather. In business, he was comfortable, happy even. The more he’d been around people in a social setting, the more isolated he became.
Then along came Prim, possessing a broad repertoire of tangible knowledge on a great many subjects, some trivial, some profound. She kept up with national and world news, politics, and business reading the papers. She also read journals and magazines by the dozens. Her knowledge of recent inventions and of automobiles was almost greater than his own. Her curiosity insatiable.
He liked that about her.
His charitable, self-serving proposition seemed far more personal than it should. He wanted her more than he should. His anticipation for the kiss that might have been the previous day had proven that. But it was curiosity that drove him. Only that, he was sure. Curiosity over what he would find simmering at Prim’s core when he unwrapped all her fascinating layers.
* * *
“You’ve an odd look in your eye,” Prim said as James spun her yet again into a series of tight, alternating turns she’d never imagined one could add to the waltz. Or it might be she hadn’t thought him adroit enough to perform. Like Leachman, he was a big man, but unlike her would-be beaux, he was proving himself adept and graceful. She was nearly breathless with exhilaration. “What are you thinking?”
He chuckled. “You keep asking questions like that yet when I answer, you’re always in a blush.”
