And it was just one.
Plus I could be of use to Lucinda because I did have some skills in discerning men’s characters.
Satisfied that I was doing the right thing, I took his arm, and he led me to the floor.
‘Which dance is this one?’ I asked.
‘If I remember correctly from the programme, it is the waltz,’ Mr Hart replied. ‘Are you familiar with it?’
I gulped. I had never waltzed with anyone, not even Max. But I knew it involved more proximity to one’s partner than the minuet. ‘I am afraid not. Perhaps I should sit ...’
Mr Hart stepped into the space between us and grasped my gloved hands. ‘It is very easy. I will show you the steps quickly now before it starts. See, your hands go on my shoulders, here.’ He placed them so. ‘And mine go on your waist.’ He settled his hands, and I felt the heat of them sear through my muslin and onto my flesh. He was directly in front of me, and I would have no choice but to look at him and be held by him. Oh Lord. I glanced at the doorway, praying that the others did not choose that moment to reappear.
‘Now we move in a circle. One, two, three. One, two, three. Then we greet the partner of the couple next to us, and ladies do an underarm turn. Then we all join hands and meet in the middle. Then we are back to each other for more waltzing. See? Simple.’
‘I suppose so,’ I replied hesitantly.
‘I think you’ll find it an excellent dance for getting to know one’s partner. That is, if you like to converse while dancing?’
A friendly smile played on Mr Hart’s lips, and I softened. ‘I do, indeed,’ I replied.
‘Then we shall have a pleasant time of it, for I do as well.’
The music began, and it was as he had said. The dance itself was not hard, and Mr Hart was a strong partner, so all I had to do was follow his lead.
The only difficulty lay in the intimacy the dance required. As we were facing each other, I had ample time to look at him and him at me. And the experience was distracting, to say the least.
Mr Hart was even more striking up close. He possessed deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, along with a superior nose and an appealing pair of lips. He also had the most impossibly perfect complexion—apart from one tiny mole underneath his left eye, which acted like a beauty spot, drawing one’s attention fully to his countenance.
Feeling a bit overcome by him, I decided the best thing to do was to imagine that I was dancing with Max. Conjuring up his dear gruff face, I plopped it on top of Mr Hart’s own visage. Then I was free to glance at him now and then without feeling uncomfortable.
But he, of course, noticed this.
‘Do I have something on my nose, Mrs Fitzroy?’ he enquired.
‘P-pardon?’
‘You keep looking at me most intently. I can only assumethat it is because I have inadvertently smeared myself with jam or perhaps honey?’
A blush hit my cheeks.Blast, he was too perceptive for his own good.
‘N-not at all,’ I stuttered. ‘I was simply imagining you as my husband.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘After only half a waltz? That is quick work. Most of the ladies here would not be thinking of me like that after so short an acquaintance. And didn’t you mention you already had a husband?’
‘I do!’ I exclaimed, annoyed that I had been flustered and not clearly explained myself. ‘What I meant is that I had replaced your head with my husband’s own for the sake of propriety ... Oh, I see. You are making fun of me.’
His lips were pressed together, as if trying hard not to laugh. Mr Hart’s propensity for teasing and his enjoyment in doing so were becoming quite apparent.
‘Let us talk about something else,’ I said hastily, not wanting to give him the chance to tease me again. ‘Do you reside in Bath?’
He glanced over at the other dancers as we waltzed. ‘Yes, for the present.’
‘Where do you usually reside?’
He looked back at me and said with apparent seriousness, ‘In a castle.’
I laughed at that. ‘I can see you like to joke, Mr Hart ...’
