“Or perhaps a good kick in the rear?”
Prim gaped at him but a second later laughter, shocking as it was from her, bubbled up. “Perhaps. Would one be more effective than the other?”
“Would you like to find out?”
This time, a giggle did pass her lips, though she hid it with a gloved hand as the polka ended. A waltz took its place and without question, James kept her tightly in his arms as the rhythm changed.
Shane’s demeanor changed as well. From stormy to dumbfounded. She tried not to care as they retreated into the flow of dancers.
She struggled more against another sort of caring as she focused on the alluring man who held her so close.
“Do you like ragtime?”
“Ragtime?” Prim echoed.
“The music?” he clarified, dipping her a step back to avoid crashing into an oncoming couple. “There’s a club on the west side not far from the Metropolitan Opera House that has a band with an excellent pianist. I thought we might have some dinner Friday night then some dancing and drinks afterward.”
“A club?” she repeated blankly then stiffened up as if he’d dealt her a far more inappropriate proposition.
“A nightclub,” he said. “The Reformation Club. Rather apropos to our current endeavor, don’t you think? I’ll call for you at nine?”
Prim’s thoughts were too rattled to appreciate his humor this time. A nightclub? Her brothers would never approve. Her father-in-law? She didn’t dare imagine.
“Mr. MacKintosh…”
“Oh, no,” he drawled out. “Am I to be called to the carpet, Mrs. Eames?”
“Jamie,” she sighed with exasperation, “an evening out at a-aclubis not at all what I intended.”
“I realize that,” he agreed. “But given your brother’s thus far stalwart disapproval, I believe we need to step it up a notch.”
“But my reputation—”
“Many ladies of high society visit these sorts of clubs,” he assured her without letting her finish. “Many of them in this room. I promised not to do anything to ruin your good name. And I won’t.”
But Prim was afraid he already had. They passed by her father-in-law, watching them flabbergasted, as was Jeremy who stood next to him. Shane, with Leachman at his side, appeared thunderous. No doubt if she cared to survey the room, she’d see more of the same. Three dances in one evening, and James hadn’t left her side at all.
If their absence had been noted…
Well, Prim still feared none of them—especially her brothers—would believe he was courting her. They would think he was seducing her.
None would believe he hadn’t succeeded.
“Remember the trick of it?” he went on, misreading her silence. “To not only give the impression that you’re unavailable to be courted by another, but to show them that you’re to make your own decisions and live your own life.”
That did sound heavenly. But the concept was still so abstract, she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to employ the practice in reality quite so brazenly. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“And I’m sure you can.”
Heavens but she did love his conviction. “I-I…I’ll think about it.”
As if knowing that was the best he might get out of her, James nodded. “Then I’ll—”
“May I cut in?”
The gruff request was accompanied by a tap on James’s shoulder. Even from her low vantage point, Prim could tell the jabbing of that thick stubby finger was not gentle, or intended to be so.
Cutting in on a waltz wasn’t unheard of. Popular ladies with many beaux but few dances available to give might be confronted like this by an ardent suitor, but it’d never happened to Prim. She felt nothing more than a flood of embarrassment when James slowed them to gradual rotation, then a sway. He stared as incredulously at Mr. Leachman as she.
