“Say this isn’t so!” He’d spun her so that she was looking at him. “It’s my duty as a gentleman to correct such a travesty.”
The music stopped just then and a few of the couples paired up when the musicians began to play something slower—something romantic.
Not giving her a chance to escape, Mr. Bateman pulled her away from the crowd, placed her left hand on his shoulder and took hold of her right hand in his. “I will teach you.”
“I cannot.” She dropped her head. “It would be too embarrassing.” But his right hand was on her back and he seemed quite determined.
“Chin up. Look at me.” And with some pressure from his hand along with a nudge, she was stepping backward. She fumbled a few times and when she thought he might normally laugh, he only nodded encouragingly, positioned them both and began again.
“I cannot.” But she was laughing and walking backward at his insistence. Then he tugged her forward. When the steps began to feel familiar, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter again—more joyful than embarrassed.
A handsome man was holding her in his arms, the music, made up of a collection of various stringed instruments floated on the air, and flickering lanterns swayed in the breeze above them.
“Is this the waltz?” She’d heard of it and how scandalous it was. Made by the devil, Winifred had mentioned once.
Mr. Bateman chuckled. “It is some variation of it.” He was making fun of her, but she did not care.
She was beginning to get the gist of it and after a while, he led her closer to the music, amidst the other dancers.
“I am stomping on your toes.” She admitted ruefully but he simply held her closer. When the music halted again, he didn’t release her but waited until it began again, this time an even slower melody.
Perhaps she could believe in magic after all.
The steps came easily and there was nowhere for her to look but into his eyes. Neither smiled, but something passed between them, an understanding that this moment was special. It was meant for the two of them. It would never be forgotten.
“I will miss you, Aubrey.” The words were spoken softly, almost as though his throat had closed up with emotion.
“I will miss you, Mr. Bateman.”
“Chance.”
“It’s an unusual name.”
“It’s short for Charles but also my––. I think we are beyond such formalities, don’t you?”
“Chance.” She tested the name on her tongue. “I will miss you, Chance.”
He held her closer, in a manner that she knew would never be considered proper by most, but she didn’t care. This night would end soon enough. As she felt his lips brush the side of her face, she turned and pressed her face into his chest. Inhaling, she memorized the texture of his shirt and jacket, the spicy scent that was a blend of soap and sweat that somehow managed to be more alluring than any cologne she’d ever known. And then she pressed a kiss onto his shirt front.
When the music ended, they both remained in each other’s arms. “Shall we walk back by ourselves,Princesse?”
He was Chance.
The evening was almost over. She would take every moment she could.
“You are not too tired?” he asked when she didn’t answer right away.
“I am not too tired. Yes, lets walk back together alone. Let’s go home.”
Oh, but it wasn’t home and sadness would come all too quickly. The music struck up again, livelier this time, and he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Together they moved around the dancers until they could capture the Wooten’s attention. Chance informed them that he and his wife would return to the house on foot. Already they had left Mr. Dog alone for too long.
Mrs. Wooten smiled. “Don’t bother waiting up!” She instructed. And then, with a wave goodbye, sent Aubrey a wink.
Neither Aubrey nor Mr. Bateman spoke much walking back. But he kept her close beside him as though he was unwilling to let her go.
Don’t let me go then.
An impossible plea. Something, or someone, in his life had some sort of a hold over him. He’d promised her that he was not married, and she knew he wasn’t a criminal. He would walk away from her in a day or two’s time and that would be the end of it.
