“Of course, I forgot about the blister on your foot.”
She frowned until she realized what he was referring to. If possible, her cheeks burned even more. The injury to her leg was a source of anguish for her and not simply because it was a weakness. The emotional story behind the fall had impacted her entire life. “No, the blister is manageable. I hurt my leg in a riding accident when I was young. I am afraid it falters sometimes.”
“Like today on the street.” He pressed his lips together, the upset clear on his face.
She was forever bumbling her way into embarrassing situations; thus it was hard to keep track of every instance. Too embarrassed to correct him, she merely nodded. “Yes.”
“The gentlemanly thing to do is to escort you back to your aunt so you can sit.”
“I am not an invalid, it merely prevented me from learning the waltz.” She glanced over her shoulder and spied a few more men eyeballing her. “Having never performed the steps, I would rather not embarrass myself in front of the entire town. Perhaps a breath of fresh air would be more acceptable.”
“It is very acceptable.” He took her elbow, and skirting the dance floor, led her out onto the terrace where the cool breeze caressed her cheeks.
The soft strains of the waltz drifted on the breeze, the Chinese lanterns in the garden below adding to the intimacy. She was used to the velvety darkness outside of Waverly Park, the gentle rolling hills and distant calls of wildlife. Although they were in the back of the mansion, noise from the street still reached them. “This music is lovely.”
“Yes. It is a pity to waste it. Are you certain you wouldn’t like to learn? It is my favorite dance,” he asked, his gaze compelling.
A thrill of something magical rushed through her. She was tempted by the man beside her, and the beautiful music. Dare she be so bold? “What if I step on your foot and maim you for life?” she said with a self-deprecating smile.
Amusement lit his eyes, drawing her in despite her will. He held up his hand, head inclined. “As long as I don’t end up in a dung pile, I think I will survive one dance.”
Giving into the enticement, she laid her hand into his larger one. He grasped her waist in a firm grip and tightened his hold on her hand. “Come now, Mrs. Adare, it is quite easy, simply follow my lead.”
Pulse thumping, she made to look down at his black leather shoes, but he brought their clasped hands under her chin. “Look at me, not at your feet.”
She flashed him a nervous smile and looked directly at him. Hazel eyes met hers and her stomach fluttered. The fresh scent of linen clung to him and appealed to every sense along with the heat of his hand on her waist. The notes of the music blanketed her as he began to lead her into the simple steps.
“This is lovely.” Many nights she’d dreamed of leaving the drudgery of Waverly behind to attend one of the many local dances held at the country hall. There was always something keeping her from attending, most notably the scorn of the local gentry. Her unorthodox behavior had earned contempt from them, and she found it easier to avoid the awkward situation altogether. “This is most pleasant, Langdon. Thank you.”
“You need not thank me, Mrs. Adare. It is not every night a man finds himself with a lovely woman in his arms.”
“Please don’t compare me to a flower as Nattering did or I shall surely be sick,” she said with a light laugh, enjoying herself more than she expected.
“Sick?” he said with mock affront. “I shall show you sick.” And with a mischievous grin, he began to twirl her in a series of circles.
His grip around her waist constricted as he brought her body more flush to his solid one. Elizabeth clung to him, the gentle breeze a soft caress, the smile blooming wider on her lips. How lovely it was to be held by a man, one who gazed at her with respect and not contempt.
The last strains of the music ended, and he dipped her, his arm supporting her back. Heated eyes felt to her mouth, and she lifted her chin in anticipation of his kiss.
“I am sorry,” he whispered in a raw voice that spoke of regret as he righted her. “But we’re no longer alone.”
She snapped her head around to see her cousin standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and a scowl marring his ridged features.
“You know it is rude not to announce yourself,” Elizabeth said, her words airier than she intended. She straightened her skirt, tying to stop the slight shaking in her hands.
“You appeared rather preoccupied. Outside a crowded ballroom. Where anyone could come upon you. But yes, I am the one in the wrong,” he said, the words dripping sarcasm.
She wrinkled her nose and inhaled a steadying breath. Patience was never her strong suit.
“Shall we go inside?” Langdon asked, rocking back on his heels.
Elizabeth had no desire to return to the ballroom and be fawned on by men like Lord Nattering. Nor was it smart to stay outside with Langdon. As much as she hated to admit Anthony was right, he was. It was fortunate on her part he was the one who found them and not some stranger. Dissatisfaction still weighed her shoulders down. She followed the men back into the ballroom, the enchanting moment gone but never forgotten.
