And he was eaten up with jealousy about it. “You might have danced with her thrice this Season already.Ifyou had asked.”
“Aw, hell, Gracie,” he murmured, abashed, and somehow Grace had the feeling that just a few moments of honest conversation had had more of an effect upon him than a good, old-fashioned pinch of the ear could ever have done. Danny rocked upon the balls of his feet with an odd restlessness; as if now that he had been prodded into action at last, he could hardly restrain himself. “Iwillcollect that ten quid if she says no,” he said.
But she wouldn’t. Hannah had only been waiting for Danny to come to his senses. Grace could see it in the sly little glances she cast over her shoulder every so often, whenever she chanced to pass close enough to get a good look.
“I’ll give you ten quid anyway if you can get through a dance without stepping on her toes,” Grace said. “But you’d best get to it. You’ll have precious little time to ask before the next set. And it’s your waltz, I believe—if you find yourself brave enough to claim it.”
“You’ll pinch my ear if I don’t,” he said, one foot scooting ahead of the other as he gathered his nerves. “I’m off, then. Wishme luck.”
Grace lifted her glass in a subtle salute as he headed toward the opposite side of the room where Hannah’s dance had ended, presumably to catch Hannah before the waltz began.
Uncle Rafe caught her attention as she meandered back into the midst of their group. “Any luck?” he murmured,sotto voce, his voice tinged with desperation.
Striving to appear appropriately modest and humble, Grace inclined her head. “He’s going to ask her,” she said. “And I didn’t even have to pinch his ear.”
“Thank God,” Uncle Rafe said, his face etched with relief. “He’s been just impossible these last days, moping about the house like every evil in the world had befallen him at once.” His gaze tracked his son across the room, and he watched intently as Danny cast himself into the path of Hannah and her latest dance partner, Mr. Templeton.
A brief moment of conversation, and Mr. Templeton excused himself with a bow. He’d been meant to return Hannah to the bosom of her family, of course, but probably he, like most everyone else present, would assume that Danny was as good as that.
And still, Uncle Rafe stood still and tense, as if he had caught a breath between the clench of his teeth and could not let it escape until Danny had proved himself somewhat less than the fool he had most recently contrived to be.
Grace coughed into her fist and whispered, “I promised him ten quid if he didn’t step on her toes. You’ll pay it for me, of course, won’t you?”
“Gracie, I’ll pay a hundred if—yes, he’s come up to scratch at last!” It had ended on a bit of a crow as Hannah at last tucked her hand into the crook of Danny’s arm. As if he’d quite forgotten where they were, Uncle Rafe’s palm landed atop Grace’s head and mussed her perfectly-arranged curls in a gesture of absentaffection. “You damned miracle worker, you,” he said.
“Just the ten quid will do,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she ducked out from beneath his hand and touched her head gingerly to assess the damage that had been wrought. Blast, her hair had almost certainly gone all fluffy and disordered—but then the stifling heat within the ballroom had been bound to ruin it eventually, anyway.
“Oh?” Felicity turned toward them, the cornflower blue of her skirts swishing. “What miracle has Grace worked?”
“Nothing much.” Ah, hell—a loose pin dangled down before her eyes, only half-caught in the curl it had been meant to secure.
“She’s convinced Danny to ask Hannah to dance at last,” Uncle Rafe said. “And a damned good thing it is, too. I don’t know how much longer I could have held my tongue.”
“I only gave him a little nudge in the right direction,” Grace demurred as she attempted to catch the pin…only to feel another loose pin strike the nape of her neck.
“Well, it was good of you to do it,” Felicity said as she plucked the pin from Grace’s hand.
Grace peered through the curl that bobbed before her eyes. “Felicity, be honest. Am I a wreck? Is my hair beyond salvaging?”
A glint of laughter sparkled in Felicity’s green eyes. “No, not at all—though Rafe ought to know better than to muss a lady’s hair.” She laid her hands upon Grace’s shoulders to turn her about. “Here, let me fix it. It’s nothing too serious; only a few pins have come loose. Not even worth a trip to the retiring room, I assure you.”
“Best do it quickly,” Uncle Rafe advised. “Lockhart’s coming this way. He’s going to ask Gracie to dance.”
Grace’s head swiveled so quickly toward him that the pin in Felicity’s fingers dug sharply into her scalp. “What? No, heisn’t!”Washe?
“Bet you ten quid he is.”
A strange little laugh collected in her lungs, and burst across her lips with the faintest tinge of hysteria. Probably Uncle Rafe had been primed to see something that was not there—after all, she’d inquired of Lord Lockhart only yesterday evening. And yet her gaze scanned the ballroom until she found Lord Lockhart, weaving his way through the crowd. In their direction.
No. Surely not. “Probably he’s headed for the refreshment table,” she said, wincing as Felicity jammed in the last pin a bit too hard. “It is sweltering in here.”
Uncle Rafe chuckled. “I swear to you, he’s coming to you. I’d lay money on it.”
“He isn’t!” Grace shrilled. Beneath the thin fabric of her evening gloves, her palms grew hot and damp. “Whatever would make you think such a thing?”
“Because he’s been watching you all evening,” Uncle Rafe replied, with a knowing wink—as if they shared some secret. “As Danny has been watching Hannah.”
∞∞∞
