“Oh, but I would love it.” Honora raised her brow, smile widening. Little did these men know it was Honora with a fancy, and Mr. Stanton only tolerated her presence.
Stanton was already shaking his head, sending his brown locks swaying. “Surely you are tired.”
“Not at all, actually.” She brought her other arm to the table, clasping her hands so her chin had a nice perch.
“A ’course he has to dance with you.” Thrup slapped the table, making the coins jump and clank together. “The night is young.”
“It would look silly for us to be the only two dancing,” Stanton insisted, now staring resolutely at his cards. And did she see a bit of perspiration around his brow? She narrowed her eyes.
Why, yes, she did.
Standing to her feet, she held a hand out to him. “How nice of you to consider my feelings, Mr. Stanton. But I am quite well enough to dance.”
His jaw jumped, and he looked about every man at the table as if mentally noting their faces so they could later be punished for their part in this ordeal. He rubbed his brow, then looked up at her. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“Oh, but we must.” She flicked her eyes to the other gentlemen who were cajoling them on. What had started as a light pressing was quickly turning into something more heated. A product of the alcohol, to be sure. It could start out making one pleasant, but it didn’t typically have a nice end.
Stanton’s nervous hand-rubbing moved to his lips, giving them a hard swipe. “Fine.” He stood, his chair screeching across the wooden floor, then held a hand out to her and led her to the middle of the room. Several of the men from the table stood and began pushing furniture so there was space in the middle of the room.
“We have no music.” Stanton looked around the room. “This is going to be the most awkward dance in the history of time.”
“Nonsense.” Honora nodded toward the bar where a man was already pulling out a fiddle. “We shall have some of the liveliest music of your life.”
Two ladies, one of whom worked at the pub, were asked to dance by other gentlemen. After a quick moment, a perfect three pairs made up their set. Then the bartender set into a country jig, full of life and energy. If there was one thing Honora missed from her past, it was dancing. She hadn’t danced in years since rising in the ranks and making a place for herself.
The men and women started in, their steps energetic, if not precise. Stanton watched with wide eyes before quickly setting to the steps himself. He was so rigid that it made Honora laugh.
“What?” he asked as they passed each other, hands briefly touching before being turned to another partner.
When they came back together, Honora leaned to his ear, close enough that she could feel his hair on her face. “You need to relax.”
“What?” he yelled back at her. The noise of the crowd was so great that hearing was becoming a problem.
It came to a turn where they put their hands on each other’s shoulder as they took steps in a circle together.
“I said you need to relax.” She couldn’t help her smile, not only because it felt so good to dance, but his expression of utter confusion and near disgust was enough to makeanyonelaugh. “Enjoy yourself, Leonard.” She squeezed his shoulder before moving on to another partner.
This man was a bit handsier than Stanton, his fingers digging into her flesh and trailing over her as he pulled away. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to dancing in a pub in this neighborhood. Then she looked at Leonard, who had a lady with him that stared at him with veritable stars in her eyes.
Every time she returned to Leonard, her heart beat faster. His scowl was slowly melting away, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
Stanton led her into a quick twirl, his hand grazing her waist, before passing her along to the next dancer. Their feet pounded against the wood flooring as the fiddle rang out in the air, the yelps of the others encouraging them on.
The next turn she came into with Leonard, he hooked an arm around her waist, looking her dead in the eye . . . and smiling. A true smile. One that showed two rows of neat, white teeth, lips curling up on both sides, and directed at her.
Her breath caught. Her heart stopped. For while she loved to aggravate this man, never had she truly feared losing her heart. She knew who she was and whence she came. It wouldn’t be acceptable. But that smile had put her past the line she was treading, making her believe that perhaps, just maybe, this man could find her agreeable.
And that—it turned out—was the most dangerous game of all.
Just as the moment seemed to pause the chaos of their surroundings, she spun away from Leonard as the dancecontinued. Until she felt a hard jolt to her side as another man slammed into her.
The man caught her before she fell, then pulled her up with his thick arm. “Sorry, little lady.” His breath was hot and reeked of alcohol. “Seems I missed a step.”
With a forced smile, she nodded and went to pull back. “Mistakes happen.”
“Now, you don’t need to pull away quite so fast,” he said, his hand tightening on her waist. “What’s that young chap got that I haven’t?”
Putting a hand to the man’s chest, she pushed back. Best not to aggravate a drunk man. And best not to stick around. She shook her head. “Nothing, of course.”
