“You’re all very committed to the job.”
“Oh.I do think there is a little being lost in translation.And your strange accent.Why don’t you have a dance with the young Marquess of Basildon and he can tell you more about England?Leopold.”The actress grabs an attractive tanned man walking toward us.
A really attractive man.Too attractive for me to not have noticed him at the convention before tonight’s party.There weren’t enough books around to distract me from noticing him.He must be an actor as well, then.
His black hair is thick, falling haphazardly across his tanned forehead and around his ears, and then playing with the nape of his neck.Warm brown eyes twinkle at me charmingly as he takes my hand and raises it to his lips that are surrounded by a beard, not breaking eye contact with me, with an arm that fills out his fine black jacket with what looks like hard muscle.He stands again and smooths his hand down his pleated white shirt and dark waistcoat.
And, for the sake of historical accuracy, it should be noted his clothes are impeccable reproductions, down to his white bowtie.Because as a historian, that should have been the first thing I noticed.
It wasn’t, though.
“Basildon, may I present… actually, I didn’t get your name.”The actress playing Victoria looks at me expectantly.
“Meera.My name’s Meera Chopra.”
“Of the Cooch Behar family.Must be one of the nieces.And this is Leopold Clifford-Alston, Marquess of Basildon, Baron Chelmsford.He’s half-Indian, so you have that in common.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you.”Great, his voice is just as suggestive of sex as his face and body.A body that’s currently bowing over my hand.
“You…” I clear my throat.“You as well.”
Silence fills the space between us.I look around but can’t see any of the academics I’ve attended panels with during the past week.Or any of the presenters.Or any of the organizers.And all of the lights in here have dimmed and turned into candles too.And again, an entire table seems to have been moved while I was outside.
What is going on?
“May I have this dance?”Leopold asks.
“Sure.”The angry men the actress playing Victoria saved me from earlier are looking my way, still glowering.I’ll say yes to anything that takes me away from them.
I take the gloved hand in front of me, shivering in relief that I’m not getting direct skin contact.It’s been a year since my last relationship and I’m usually surrounded by much older, married colleagues, so even the slight physical contact with someone potentially eligible might have made me combust with all the lust.
Only one problem, though.“I don’t really know how to dance.Well, not these dances.I can sway to a beat, but this looks more complicated than my repertoire.”
“Ah.Not a problem.It is a waltz and I have been forced to learn the steps under penalty of no pudding.And nothing can stop me in the pursuit of pudding.I shall take care of you.”He winks at me, apparently reading my mind about the glove barrier and determined to make me combust despite it, a challenge I didn’t even know I was throwing out there.
I clear my throat.“I appreciate that.”
We’re silent the first few minutes of the dance.I’m concentrating on not stepping on his feet or bumping into anyone else and enjoying the wall of muscle under my hand.Which makes concentrating on the first two tasks more difficult.I have no idea why he’s so quiet.Probably mad to have an amateur foisted on him.He does keep looking around, probably scouting for the next woman to dance with.One who knows her way around a waltz.
“I hear India is lovely this time of year,” Leopold, Marquess of Posh-Sounding-Place, says.In a pretty posh accent, actually.It’s all too fancy.I’m going to start thinking of him as Leo.
“It’s monsooning right now,” I say before remembering it was just polite small talk.
“Right.I’ve never actually been or that’s probably something I would know.You have a curious accent, though.Doesn’t sound like anyone else in the Indian delegations that come here.”
“Because I’m from America.”
“The former colonies?How did you end up there?”He’s focused on me now, no longer looking for greener pastures.
“The former colonies?That’s cute.”Did these actors have to prove they had at least a master’s degree in the history of the Victorian era before they could be here?Are they just that committed to a one-night gig?If I ever need period actors, I’m calling the conference organizer to see who they are.
“It wasn’t cute when we were fighting and dying in the mud over there.”
“Youwere fighting there?”I look him over, from his shiny black shoes to his impeccably tied ascot necktie.Also, it was well before his time, if the actors are pretending to be in the Victorian era.Late Victorian era by the looks of the costumes I’m seeing.
“No.I want to say someone in the family did fight over there.A great-great-uncle who was a second son and drew the genetic short straw, so he ended up with an Army commission and got shot in some field in Massachusetts.Don’t worry; he survived.”He tilts his head with an easy grace.“Why are you there?”
“I was born there.”
