Reese concentrated on the dance steps. Jem whispered the instructions in time with the music, and she began to forget herself and feel the rhythm instead. She hadn’t realized he was such a good dancer.
The musician finished the song, and Jem slowed to a stop. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers.
Reese caught her breath, and the corner of his mouth twitched. She practically ripped her hand from his. Why did he have to ruin it?
“Sorry,” he said, the humor in his eyes gone. “I thought they did that kind of thing back in the day.”
“Maybe they did,” Reese said, “but you probably shouldn’t do that to just any lady at the ball. Her husband might deck you.”
“Good point.” He bowed. “I wouldn’t want to cause an international incident.”
She considered him, trying to remember the Jem of their childhood, before the kiss and the following silence that had killed her self-esteem. He might have spent the last couple of years as a stage manager, but he was also an actor—a consummate actor. He knew how to play a role. She refused to be tricked again. If Jane Bennett had managed to keep her cool and be graceful when she had met Mr. Bingley again, Reese could do the same.
Jem watched her watch him, a furrow between his brows.
“Are you ready for a Viennese waltz now?” the violinist asked.
Jem turned to the man. “Say that again, please.”
“Are you ready for a Viennese waltz now?” the violinist asked, his tone confused.
Jem mumbled something to himself before turning to her and asking in a delightful English accent, “My lady, do you know how to do the Viennese?”
“I can’t even do it when I’m in my exercise clothes,” Reese said. “I wouldn’t dare to try it in skirts and petticoats.”
“I’ve always liked your honesty about this kind of stuff.” Jem glanced at the violinist. “Let’s do another traditional waltz.”
The musician began to play again, and Jem pulled her close.
“Lose yourself in the music,” he reminded her.
Jane Bennett. Reese took a deep breath and let herself get into the rhythm.
“That’s right,” he said, his voice soft. “My arm on your back will guide you. Trust me. I’ll do my best to keep us together as a unit.”
Reese found that if she did as he said and just followed his lead, her feet didn’t try to do their own thing. He continued to talk softly when she faltered. The music ended, and she was surprised at how well they had done together.
“You’re a good dancer,” she said.
“You are too,” Jem said softly, still holding her hand, “when you forget to be self-conscious.”
“It’s easy to be self-conscious when you’re a klutz.” Reese didn’t look at him.
“Dancing may not come to you as naturally as sports,” he said, “but the two aren’t as different when you think about it. I’ve seen you. When you lose yourself in your martial arts katas, it’s a beautiful thing to see. You have such grace—”
“Now you’re laying it on a bit too thick,” she interrupted, pinning him with a hard gaze, unable to take his flattery. “But I appreciate the gesture anyway.”
Jem was about to say something when the door opened, and a maid entered.
“Miss, Aunt Nellie said you will want to freshen up before dinner,” she said.
He released Reese’s hand and stepped back far enough to do one of his awesome bows. She performed an almost perfect curtsy.
“Well done.” He whipped out a handkerchief with a flourish worthy ofThe Scarlet Pimpernel’s Sir Percy Blakeney before turning and exiting the room with the violinist right behind him.
“Miss, this way.”
Reese picked up her fan and shawl from the chair where she had left them. Jem was wasted on stage managing. He had turned into such a good actor that it was easy to forget how shy he had been when they were young. The tough thing now was knowing when he was playacting and when he was being himself.
