“Really?”
“Yes. And I do see the irony.”
“Well, the less said, the better, I imagine. Don’t fret; the waltz is easy enough. Simply follow my lead.”
She was still close to him, not quite close enough for their bodies to touch, but close enough that she would be thinking about it.
He had not waltzed in many years, but the principle was simple. Her hand in his, his arm on her waist, her fingertips on his shoulder, and then round and round they would go. The man at the pianoforte played an ordinary waltz, enough for the distinctive rhythm to worm its way into their heads and work down to their feet.
When Stephen stepped sideways, she moved with him. Then again, then back, then forward, a few experimental steps.
She danced well. It was clear that the waltz was indeed an unfamiliar dance to her, but it was equally clear that shecoulddance. Nor did she step on his feet, which was a blessing.
“I invited your brother,” Stephen said, after a few moments. “I hoped it would lure him here, make him angry enough to confess his wrongdoing.”
Amelia swallowed audibly. “I don’t much care about your feud, Your Grace.”
“It is Stephen, as you well know. And you’d made it clear that you don’t care much about me at all.”
She didn’t respond.
With a twinge of disappointment, Stephen realized that he had hopedshe would respond.
“You are disappointed in me,” he sighed.
She closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head. “You don’t understand.”
“Are you sure?”
“This is all about revenge. What better way to take revenge on my brother than by marrying his illegitimate half-sister? The humiliation would never leave him. Forgive me for not beingpleased at the fact that I am a tool in your quest for revenge. My sisters and I. You are not thinking far ahead, Stephen. Have you thought of what it will be like, married to a bastard girl?”
“I wish you would stop talking about yourself like that. Would you like to know the truth? The plain fact is that you are more of a lady than most titled women I know.”
“It doesn’t matter. I amnota lady.”
“You will be.”
“I will never be a lady,” she burst out. “I was not born in wedlock! All I know is that the circumstances of my birth will never change, and that you care only for revenge. You want to hurt my brother the way he hurt you.”
You do not know the way he hurt me.
“Actually, I want to hurt him the way he hurtyou,but that is different,” Stephen said.
Amelia scowled. “You are not making any sense.”
I have to tell her.
Stephen was quiet for a moment, leading her on a few lazy circles of the space. At last, he made himself speak.
“You are a clever woman. You felt the scars on my back. Bullet wounds and lash marks. What conclusion have you drawn?”
She was silent, gathering her thoughts.
“You went to war,” she replied. “But there was no talk of you going to war. Surely, if a duke’s son went to fight for his country, there would have been talk of it. Of your bravery, of your sacrifice.”
He gave a brittle smile. “Bravery and sacrifice. Those are the words they use to lure young men into the army and navy all over the world. At the time when war was breaking out, those words weren’t enough. Especially for the navy. It’s a rough, cruel life, unrewarding and unending. So, young men were swept off the streets, usually when they were drunk, and forced into service aboard navy ships. They call it press-ganging.”
She sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “I… I have heard of that. A vile practice. Do you mean to tell me that you were press-ganged?”
