He narrowed the gap between them just a touch. Enough to whisper back, “It’s easy. You step in threes.”
“I know thetheory. I’ve read about it plenty, but I’ve not done it. I’m not coordinated. I will look like a fool.”
Standing still while those around them moved would look more foolish than her two left feet, but saying so wouldn’t help.
“Trust me. I won’t let you stumble.” He slid his hand around her waist, unprepared for the way his chest lurched. Steadying himself, he pushed her into movement. Why his body responded to her so unexpectedly was a question he’d table for now.
“One, two, three. One, two, three,” he murmured. “We’re about to turn.” He used both arms and the angle of his chest to guide her. She followed with only the slightest wobble.
“And again,” he said. “One, two, three. One, two, three.” Her brow furrowed in concentration. Counting and focusing on one’s feet made dancingmoredifficult.
“How are you enjoying the evening?” he asked.
She blinked. “You want me to talkanddance? At once? Can I not concentrate on where I’m going?”
She faltered, but he was expecting it, and his reflexes were lightning quick. He steadied her before anyone around them noticed.
“Talking makes the dancing easier,” he murmured. “Humans have been dancing for centuries. Your body knows what to do when your mind stays out of it.”
Her countenance flipped in an instant. “Did you know that in prehistoric times, dancing was a way to communicate with God? According to cave paintings in Spain, people danced before a hunt to ask for a successful kill.”
His lips quirked of their own accord. She was odd. He liked it. His entire body paid attention to how energy shifted around her. “See how far we’ve evolved,” he responded. “Now we dance as part of the hunt itself.” He nodded in Cecilia’s direction. She had passed off the glass to a minion and was staring at Eleanor with barely concealed fury.
Eleanor looked over. “She’s livid. I’m going to have to get a fresh glass for Lady Wharton, aren’t I?”
Peter had dodged Cecilia’s arrow, avoided her teeth, slipped her net again. Logically,heshould be the target of her rage, but nothing about her struck him as reasonable. He’d been irresponsible. Given the slightest motivation, thetonwould pick a person like Eleanor apart.
He maneuvered her out of Cecilia’s eyesight. “Agreed.Another drink is in order, for that one has likely been sabotaged. You should avoid her for the foreseeable future.”
“Do you think she found the duke she was after?”
Damn. He was enjoying Eleanor’s company and would rather not taint it with lies. But the alternative was to taint it with the truth. His only option was to equivocate. “I think the duke is intelligent enough to avoid her.”
She sniffed. “Maybe. I’m not convinced of his intellect.”
Ooof.But the sting was momentary and was quickly replaced with satisfaction. It was refreshing. Only his sisters ventured such opinions in his presence. “You doubt the duke’s wits?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “At the verybest, he’s obtuse. At the worst, he’s heartless.”
Doubleooof. That jab did more than sting, and there was significantly less reward in it. Worse would come. Eleanor was a breath of fresh air that would turn rancid the moment she discovered who he was.
“How is your study coming along?” he asked, not keen to hear more of her unvarnished opinion.
She glanced about. “I’ve never seen so many people packed so tightly. Even at Vauxhall there’s room to breathe.”
Of course, she attended Vauxhall. According to Meg, it was color and life, brilliance and energy. This woman was all of those.
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “I’ve never been.”
Her brow creased. “Truly? But it is so much fun. It is removed from all the minutiae of life—escapism at its finest.”
Escape. That wasn’t a luxury he could afford. It was for those willing to leave duty behind: the irresponsible, or the unencumbered, or the fanciful.
That said, watching her watch the acrobatics was an appealing prospect. She made escapism seem enviable, not a poorly thought-out choice.
The music picked up pace, as did he. She followed without noticing the change. “You must experience Vauxhall once in your life,” she said.
Booklover would likely say the same thing. If she discovered that he’d never been, she would prod him until he went, just as she’d done with Highgate Cemetery. Perhaps he’d visit before Booklover had the chance to suggest it. That would make her happy.
