I laughed. “Is it time for our next dance already?”
“It is nearly one in the morning, so yes, it should be about time. But I am exhausted. I need a moment’s rest, or I shall fail you entirely. These women do not dance with such grace as you.”
My heart flipped in my chest. “Is that so?”
“Come,” he said, tugging on my hand. “I need out of this place for a moment.”
Peter led me through the crowd and out onto the veranda where a small group of people mingled. His breath steadied, and he leaned against the railing, fluffing out his hair.
“You look very handsome, Peter.” I bit my lip, admiring him fully. Never would I meet another man as handsome as he.
He straightened, smiling. “You are different tonight.”
“Am I?” The evening breeze cooled my cheeks.
“You are happy and amiable and ... free, I suppose.”
“Are you fishing for more compliments?” I leaned beside him against the rail, and he brushed his arm against mine.
“From you? Always.” He winked.
I smiled back at him and stretched my shoulders.
Peter sighed. “Why did you not tell me of your circumstances, Amelia?” I sensed a hesitation, but also a need in his voice.
I looked down at my ivory gloves. “I suppose I was afraid of losing your good opinion. And Georgiana said ...”
Peter tensed. “What did Georgiana say?”
I met his gaze. If I wanted to learn the truth, I needed to say the words tonight. Tomorrow would be too late. “She said that a dowry was important to you. For your income. And that you needed a wealthy match, otherwise you would be forced to work in London like your father did. I would never want that for you.”
Peter rubbed his face in his hands. “Why would she say that to you? Georgiana knows nothing of my finances. Gads, Amelia. I am so sorry.”
“So, it ... isn’t true?” Could Peter marry for love alone without too great a sacrifice? I didn’t dare let myself hope.
He looked at me in earnest. “I told you. Money is not something I have in short supply.” He shook his head in frustration. “I want a family and a home. I couldn’t care less how much it costs me. Can you trust that? Can you forget what Georgiana has said?”
I nodded, staring intently into Peter’s pleading eyes, but then a set of music tore me away from the dream. “Oh, Peter, our dance!”
“Drat,” Peter said with a wicked grin, his countenance reverting back to his easygoing nature. “We shall be forced to stay out here.”
I pointed at his chest. “You missed it on purpose.”
He shrugged. “I am tired, and you are so much better a dancer than I.”
“You horrible man,” I teased. “You owe me a dance.”
Peter stood up from the railing, lifted my hands above us, and spun me. I did not stop for several rounds until I was so dizzy I tripped on my shoes.
He caught me in his arms, laughing, and leaned back against the railing again. My breath was heavy, my mind whirling and my heart pounding in my ears.
“Careful or we might truly be banished,” I said, remembering our jest from the night we danced under the stars. But Peter did not release me. He looked at me with a serious expression, like he studied me as though to sketch my likeness.
“You know that story you wanted to write for me? This is how I would end it.” Peter bit his lower lip, his eyes clear, sincere, hopeful. “I want a picture of you spinning and smiling at me like this forever.”
My legs suddenly lost their strength. I studied his chest rising and falling in a pattern that matched my own, so much so that I hardly noticed a throng of people suddenly crowding the veranda.
Peter nodded toward a break in the railing behind us. He took my hand in his, pulling me behind him. Four steps led us down onto the soft grass, and Peter glanced over his shoulder, as though to watch for following eyes. He cast me a smile, as happy as it was mischievous, and I returned it easily.
