No. No. No. This had all been a mistake. There would be no dance with a handsome gentleman at a ball. She’d been a fool to think she could manage it. She’d just wait until the corridor was empty and then she’d sneak back upstairs, surreptitiously return the clothing, and be done with this entire idiotic plot. And she—
The door to the drawing room swung open and Maddie’s heart stopped. But it quickly started again when Mr. Whitland poked in his head. He saw her, then stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
He was alone. Thank heavens. She expelled her pent-up breath in a rush, beyond grateful for her good fortune.
“There you are,” he said in his affable tone from earlier, quite unlike the tone with which he’d addressed Lord Julington.
“I…I’m sorry.” Her voice faltered. “I wasn’t…feeling well.” She lifted her chin. There. Wasn’t that what debutantes always said? Lady Henrietta tended to, at least.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mr. Whitland replied. “I hope you haven’t allowed your unfortunate encounter with that fool Julington to stop you from having your dance.”
“Oh, er, yes. Yes, indeed. I’m no longer interested in dancing,” she declared. “In fact, I’m just about to leave…the ballroom. Er…leave the party.” She closed her eyes briefly, chiding herself for the ridiculously high pitch to her voice. She squeaked when she was nervous.
“Where is your mother?” Mr. Whitland asked next, his eyes narrowing on her. “Allow me to escort you to her.”
Fear streaked through Maddie’s chest again. “I, er, that is to say… I—”
“My apologies,” he interjected. “I didn’t intend to be forward. Only, it seems to me that you’re lacking a chaperone and—”
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Whitland. But I must go.” She grabbed her skirts and made to step around him.
“Wait.” He held out a hand to her. “I’m uncertain if I qualify, but I’m willing to dance if you would still care to.”
Maddie froze. A tentative smile curled her lips. Did she dare take him up on the offer? The strains of a waltz were barely audible. Anyone might walk into the room at any moment, including Lord Hazelton himself. For all she knew, Lord Julington was still looking for her. But none of it mattered. Her heart pounded and excitement shot through her middle. She would be a churl and a fool to allow this opportunity to pass. It was so…perfect. They could dance here, in this room, with no prying eyes. Would she still care to dance? Yes, indeed. She would care to. Though she was entirely certain that she shouldn’t. She turned and eyed Mr. Whitland carefully.
“Come on,” he added, tugging his bottom lip with his straight white teeth in an utterly irresistible, vulnerable way that made her belly flip. “Try it. I’m told I’m not the worst dancer in the world.”
She bit her lip, quite willing to take him up on the offer but still a bit hesitant. “I thought you said only lovesick fools and fops dance?”
“And married men,” he replied with a sigh. “I am none of those things, but I am willing to make an exception…for a beautiful woman who wishes to dance.”
Oh, well, that was charming.
Maddie tentatively reached out and placed her hand on his. He pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in his warmth, the scent of sandalwood stronger so near him. He began the steps of the waltz, in perfect time to the music still drifting into the room. One, two, three. One, two, three. They turned in a circle in the large space between the sideboard and the settee. She looked up into his dark eyes and smiled at him, one hand clasped in his, the other resting upon his strong, wide shoulder.
And then she danced, just as her mother had taught her all those years ago. Just as she’d taught Molly. And for those few minutes as the waltz played, it was magical, and Maddie was actually a debutante dancing at a grand London ball, just as she’d always imagined. She closed her eyes and breathed in the moment's magic, knowing full well she would never have the opportunity again.
After several moments had passed, and she’d reopened her eyes, Mr. Whitland spoke. “So, what happened out there with Lord Julington?”
Her smile disappeared, and Maddie fought her shudder. But she had to be careful in her response. “He asked me to dance, and I refused.”
“Wasn’t quite handsome enough for you?” Mr. Whitland prodded with a smile.
She shook her head. “He was far too insistent, actually. I regret you had to involve yourself in that unfortunate encounter. Thank you for your assistance, by the by.”
“Don’t worry. After I explained what had happened, Lord Hazelton insisted he leave. You won’t have to worry about Julington again tonight.”
A hint of relief washed over her at that news, but it was quickly followed by more apprehension. She bit her lip, eyeing Mr. Whitland warily. “What exactly did you tell Lord Hazelton?” she asked, forcing herself not to wince.
They continued to dance as Mr. Whitland replied, “Only that Lord Julington had been so rude to a female guest, so insistent upon a dance, that the young lady had run off.”
“Did Lord Hazelton…?” She cleared her throat and hoped her squeak didn’t return. “Ask my name?”
“No,” Mr. Whitland replied with a grin, “which was fortunate since I didn’t have a name to give him.”
Nodding, she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled widely at him. “Of course not.”
The music stopped and Mr. Whitland brought their dance to an end, but his fingers lingered on her waist. She didn’t remove her hand from his shoulder either. She tipped back her head to look up at him. He gazed down at her intently and slowly—oh, so slowly—lowered his head. He was going to kiss her. She knew it. And she wanted him to. After all, sharing a kiss with a handsome gentleman at a ball was her second dream. One she had barely even acknowledged to herself. It had been too much to hope for when she’d planned tonight, but now, now, the most handsome gentleman she’d seen at the ball had not only danced with her…he was poised to kiss her too. She leaned up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway.
