Marianne bit her lip and glanced back and forth as if seriously debating whether dancing the waltz with him in this alcove was a good idea. But he could tell the moment she’d made up her mind, because she lifted her chin, stood, and set her own chair out of the way.
“Mr. Baxter, I’d be honored.” She held her hands out to him before quickly adding. “But if I step on your foot, I cannot be held accountable.”
Beau laughed at that. Then he clasped her hands in his and waited for the beat of the music to come back around. “I’m certain you’ve seen from watching that the waltz is done in three sets of three.”
“Yes,” Marianne replied, nodding. “But we don’t have much room here, I’m afraid.”
“We’ll simply have to make do,” Beau replied before taking the lead and stepping into the first trio of steps. He led the way and even managed to ensure he didn’t hit his head on the ceiling beams as they waltzed in a small circle to the music drifting up from the ballroom below.
At first Marianne looked as if she were terrified that she might actually step on his boot, but after a few sets of steps, she got the pattern down brilliantly, and as her confidence grew, so did her smile.
Beau couldn’t remember a dance he’d enjoyed more, and he’d danced with some of the most popular ladies of theBeau Monde. But here, with Marianne in this small second floor room that smelled like dust, he actually felt for the first time in his life as if he were courting a lady. And there was no one he’d rather be with.
He was sorely tempted to pull her close, but given that she’d watched waltzes in the ballroom before, she would know that wasn’t proper—not to mention that they were still pretending as if they were nothing more than colleagues, the dancing notwithstanding.
So he concentrated on his smile and his footsteps and on ensuring that Marianne continued to smile, and he tried desperately not to think about how good she smelled or how soft her hands were or how perfect she felt in his arms.
Minutes later, the music came to an end and Beau reluctantly let her go. She lifted her white skirts, curtsied deeply, and smiled. “Thank you for a lovely waltz, Mr. Baxter.”
“The pleasure was entirely mine, Miss Notley,” he replied.
Marianne pushed a lock of red hair behind her ear as her focus returned to the ballroom and she resumed her seat. Beau, pushing away thoughts of another dance—or something even more enticing, like a kiss—placed his own chair back in its former position and resumed his study of the ballroom.
They hadn’t been watching again for more than five minutes when Marianne leaned forward in her chair and pointed. “Who is that man over there? The one standing near the potted palm, wearing a bright blue coat?”
Beau scanned the crowd until his gaze alighted upon the man in question. He narrowed his eyes. “That’s Baron Winfield. The father of Kendall’s intended, Miss Wharton.”
Marianne shook her head. “Is it?” she said. “That’s quite interesting.”
Beau frowned. “Why?”
Marianne bit her lip. She stood and clasped her hands over the back of the chair. “I need to go check on something. I think I might have an idea. I’ll meet you at your room at midnight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Marianne hesitated a moment before she knocked on Beau’s door at midnight. Earlier, shehadleft the alcove above the ballroom in order to follow her suspicion—but she’d also needed to leave in order to remove herself from his presence.
Beau teaching her how to waltz had nearly turned her into a puddle, and she hadn’t trusted herself not to hurl herself into his arms and kiss him as she’d been longing to do since she’d met him in the servants’ staircase this evening.
His strong arms, his broad shoulders, and the way he led her in the dance, teaching her so expertly. It had all been more than she could bear. That combined with the scent of his soap and the memories of their nights together flashing through her mind, and she’d been nothing but pleased to have seen something in the ballroom that had made her need to leave the room. She had to wonder if it was a good idea to be entering his bedchamber tonight.
The clock at the end of the upper servants’ corridor began to chime, pulling her from her thoughts. At the far end of the hall, a door opened. Marianne sucked in her breath and pressed her back against the wall next to Beau’s door.
She watched as a woman emerged from one of the bedchambers and made her way toward the staircase in the middle of the floor. Marianne expelled her pent-up breath. Thank heavens the woman hadn’t come all the way down to the servant’s staircase at the end where Marianne was hiding.
As soon as the maid had disappeared from sight, Marianne spun around and quickly knocked on Beau’s door.
The door flew open nearly immediately and Beau pulled her inside. “Where have you been?” His voice was quiet but harsh. “I was worried about you.”
Marianne eyed him carefully. She could see the apprehension in his eyes. “You were worried? About me?”
Beau paced away from her and scrubbed a hand through his blond hair. “Yes, damn it. I was. I didn’t know where you’d gone or why. I thought perhaps you might need my help.”
“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said, somewhat taken aback by his admission. “But I had to check on something.”
He turned back to face her. “Yes, you said as much. What did you find out?”
Marianne folded her hands together in front of her. “When you told me the man in the blue coat was Baron Winfield, a few things began to make sense.”
