Oh, how she loved it when he grinned like that. “You think I’m a good dancer?” He winked. “You forget, I was raised at Eden’s Court under the tutelage of the Duchess of Prescott.” His humility attracted her more than a thousand boasts ever could, but when he allowed himself a moment to be brash, her heart sang.
The dance ended all too soon. She’d have to wait two more hours until the supper dance and then at least another two before she and her mother could leave for home.
Too Far This Time
By the time the supper dance was announced, Rhoda had had quite enough of the supposedly besotted gentlemen swarming about her. But that wasn’t her greatest irritant. Bitterness filled her at the sight of so many empty-headed twits fluttering their eyelashes at Lord Carlisle.
And so, when he led her onto the dance floor, she determined to put an end to all of this.
They stood facing one another, lined up beside the other dancers, and the music commenced.
With her flattened palm pressed against his, moving around one another in a slow circle, she took a deep breath. “The wager has risen to over seventy thousand pounds.”
His eyebrows rose, but they both were required to partner another for the next few beats. When they returned to one another, his blue eyes held more than an ounce of suspicion.
“There will be no winner,” he asserted and then lifted their hands above her head and twirled her.
“But somebody must win,” she insisted and then backed away from him to line up again.
They lost sight of one another for a few minutes, and Rhoda considered her next words as she followed the ladies around in a slow line. Ought she to simply come out with it? No one else seemed to be listening to them, each couple intent upon their own flirtations. Dancing had always been one of Rhoda’s favorite things to do on earth. After that, she liked to flirt. Or perhaps it was the other way around.
“What if someone were to place a wager upon you?” she blurted out when he took her hand again. “After all, I—”
He scowled, and his face darkened. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.”
Rhoda raised her brows at that word. Forbid.
She’d never taken well to such a notion.
“Youforbidit, Lord Carlisle?” At his stern look, a surprising bolt of heat shot through her and then settled between her legs. It was as though her body approved of his high handedness, reveled in it, in fact, even though her brain took offense.
He touched her waist and twirled her again.
“The wager is an abomination.” And yet when she glanced at him, she saw other emotions flicker across his features. Doubt. Disgust, Yearning. And when he met her gaze, she was certain she saw lust.
She clenched her inner muscles in response and then stepped back into the line. When she turned, she nearly barreled right into the lady beside her. Wrong way! Good heavens, he’d befuddled her mind.
And other parts of her.
When they came together again, she could think of hardly anything but how his scent tantalized her senses, the warmth of his hand as it skimmed her shoulder and arm.
Oh, but how she wished he could kiss her. Would they ever have that opportunity again?
“I ask you not to pursue this train of thought. Trust me.” He leaned forward and whispered the words near her ear. So closely that his breath moved some wisps of her hair. “Please.”
He stepped away from her and the music stopped.
She nodded.
Before he could take her arm and lead her into the large dining hall, cool fingers grasped her elbow from behind.
“I’m afraid Lord Carlisle will have to dine with somebody else.” Her mother again! “I’m in need of your companionship myself.” The strength with which her mother could drag her away from him was surprisingly forceful. “I asked you not to appear in public with him.” This time, it was her mother’s breath filling her ear. “Two dances! Two dances, Rhododendron? Does that sound to you like avoiding him?”
Rhoda cast one apologetic glance back toward Justin, who appeared rather as though he’d just lost his best friend.
His melancholy warmed her.
Rhoda wasn’t nearly so bothered when ladies swarmed Lord Carlisle after that. He didn’t look at them with any longing whatsoever.
