The music slowed, and with it, their pace. Relief flooded Ottilie when the gentleman released his hold on her.
“Before you go,” she said, “let me save you the trouble of retracting your offer of marriage by asserting my right to decline it. I have no desire to acquire a controlling husband.”
“Am I correct in assuming you are free for a waltz, then?” Mr. Bastin stepped up beside her then, a wide grin on his handsome face.
“Indeed, I am, Mr. Bastin. Have you met Lord Towne? Only a few minutes ago, he told me how much he enjoyed your book.”
Lord Towne’s cheeks flamed red, and he bowed curtly to Ottilie before marching off the floor and making his way to Lady Hudsyn.
Mr. Bastin slipped his arm around Ottilie’s waist, placed one hand on her back, and intertwined the fingers of his free hand with hers. Together they stretched out their arms and began to glide with the music. He smelled enticingly sweet and spicy, like rum and cinnamon. Ottilie’s heart pounded so rapidly that she worried Mr. Bastin might feel its vibrations.
“I can’t write without you,” he said, pulling her closer. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”
“You flatter me, Mr. Bastin, but, as I told you, I won’t consider it until I’ve spoken to Henry first. I can’t imagine what’s keeping him so long in Kent.” In truth, she’d thought about little else beyond his proposition, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Hudsyn’s not in Kent.”
“What do you mean? Of course, he is. Where else could he be?”
“He’s staying at Albany. It’s only a few minutes down Piccadilly from mine.”
“I knowthat. But…do you mean to say that my cousin has rented a bachelor set at Albany?”
“He hasn’t rented anything. Lord Cavandon is currently out of town, and Hudsyn is staying in his flat. Although, he mentioned something about renting his own set at Albany. He claims it’s the only place he can get any writing done.”
“You’ve spoken to Henry? How long have you known he didn’t go to Kent?”
“I’ve always known.”
“But you didn’t say anything last time we spoke. You let me believe he’d fled to Kent.”
“A man is entitled to his privacy, Miss Hamilton. Why do you think he disappeared in the first place?”
Ottilie opened her mouth to protest, but Jack tilted an eyebrow at her and his dark eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Don’t admonish me yet. Think about it from Hudsyn’s perspective.”
Ottilie chewed her lower lip. Jack was right. She’d only been in town a few weeks, and her aunt had already attempted to marry her without her consent. In the two years Henry had been home from Cambridge, Lady Hudsyn must have worn him to a thread with her efforts to control his future. Anger swelled in Ottilie’s chest. Her aunt had no right to interfere in their lives on this level. And now she’d chased Henry from his home. Still, it hurt that her cousin had chosen not to tell her the truth.
“He is going to tell you,” Mr. Bastin said as if Ottilie wore her thoughts engraved on her face. “He needed some uninterrupted time to himself first, that is all.”
“He told you the truth.”
“Our situation is different. He values my input on his writing.” They glided around in silence for a minute before Jack spoke again. “He admires your independent spirit, you know.”
Ottilie grinned. “Oh, you are a clever one, Mr. Bastin. My answer, by the way, is ‘yes’,” she said as the waltz ended. “You may send Mrs. Wilson for me tomorrow at noon.”
The couples surrounding separated and began to move off the ballroom floor. Ottilie shifted her stance in anticipation of Jack’s releasing her.
“Not yet,” he murmured, tightening his grip on her waist. “Will you stay for another?”
“Are you trying to start a new scandal?” She attempted a lighthearted comment, but her voice quivered and gave her true feelings away.
“I would be content to hang if I were permitted to dance with you all evening.”
He locked his eyes on Ottilie’s, and she thought they might have remained frozen in place for all eternity had it not been for the violin’s sweet vibrations and the trumpet’s short blasts sending them twirling once more in each other’s arms across the ballroom floor.
*
