“You’re light on your feet,” he complimented after a few steps.
“You…” She struggled for diplomacy but eventually laughed, a real laugh the likes of which he hadn’t yet seen her give. Maybe he was wearing her down after all. “Are not.”
“I’m not used to this kind of dancing. I’m more of a cut-a-rug guy,” he explained, tumbling over his own shoes in the pseudo-waltz they were stumbling through. “I’m a hoofer at heart.”
“Cut a rug? What is this, a Fred Astaire movie?”
“Says the woman who walks around pretending she’s one of those Downton Abbey women.”
“Am I really so transparent?”
“Yes, but it’s very endearing.” By now, they’d slowed their waltz to a gentle sway. Around them, a handful of couples joined them, whispering and muttering to one another just as they were now. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m going to crack you. I’m going to find the real Sam Dubarry somewhere in there.”
“You’ve seen her.”
“If you say so.” Daniel shrugged. She wanted to play Downton Abbey with him? He could join in the game. He cleared his throat and adopted a truly abysmal Irish accent. “Lady Ashbrooke. What’s a rich girl like you doing with a poor chauffeur like me?”
The music swelled around them, reaching its climax. The chaotic sevenths rattled Daniel’s heart, though not nearly as much as Sam’s gentle reply.
“Dancing.” Her head settled on his chest. He wondered if she knew she’d squeezed him tighter to her, or if it was done subconsciously. Either way, it awakened his body like never before. Tighter wasn’t tight enough. Close could never be close enough. “Just dancing.”
A million questions and thoughts and declarations hung on Daniel’s love-hungry tongue, but they were cut off by the arrival of a new presence, one he vaguely remembered. A tall Golden Boy in his Oxford best approached them and tapped Daniel’s date on the shoulder. Daniel could have killed the man for robbing him of the warmth of Sam’s cheek.
“Pig—” The man caught himself.Here, Piggy, Piggy, Piggy.Daniel knew exactly from where he recognized this guy. He was one of those Animos bastards. “Sam. May I have the next dance? This fine gentleman couldn’t possibly dream of hogging you all night.”
Daniel hardly knew the man, but he hated him almost instantly. Sam was free to dance with anyone she wanted to; her dancing didn’t bother him. There was something in the cloud of air this stranger had around him. His smarm sickened him to his very stomach.
To make matters worse, he could feel Sam’s heartbeat through her dress. It picked up considerably when he sidled up to them.
“Yes. Uh.” She pulled away. Daniel instantly felt cold, and not just from the thinly veiled fear in her eyes. “Yes. Daniel, would you mind getting me a glass of champagne?”
He couldn’t even respond. The next song, something dense with plenty of unnecessary snare drum, began and she was gone, swept into that man’s arms. Daniel found two champagne flutes before making himself comfortable at the edge of the room. The dancing went on for four more songs, each seemingly longer than the last, as she exchanged partners and entered new conversations. Daniel tried not to look too closely. He didn’t want to seem as if he were spying on her…
But it didn’t take a spy to see how uncomfortable she was with these men. Worlds apart from how they’d been dancing. Soon, as the twirling reached its fifth song, Sam’s first dance partner—the one Daniel recognized from their passing encounter outside of Christ Church—parked himself next to Daniel. He sipped champagne with annoyingly practiced elegance, as if champagne was a regular delicacy in his household.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” The man nodded to Sam’s spinning figure as her skirts flared and her partner awed at the sight.
“Yes.”
“Reginald Wavell”—the stranger (Reginald, apparently) captured Daniel’s hand and shook it vigorously—“future Earl of Hillsborough.”
“Daniel Best,” he replied.
Another champagne swallow. Reginald waved the near-empty flute between Sam’s distant body and Daniel’s stationary one. The hairs on his neck stood on end. He’d lived in Oxford his entire life; he’d dealt with his fair share of entitled pretty boys. This would need to be handled with grace, dignity, and all of the sly insults he could possibly throw at this guy. Otherwise, the predatory glaze over his glances at Sam would end in Daniel throwing him through the nearest window.
“How’d you two meet again, you and Samantha?”
“Some assholes left her naked in a park and I made sure she didn’t freeze to death.”
Not as subtle as he would have liked, but Daniel managed to keep the ire from his voice, which he counted as a victory considering how he truly despised the stranger beside him.
“But you doworkhere, don’t you?” Reginald offered. It must have made him feel so big to get to rub cold facts in the faces of the hired help.
“Yes.”
