“Keira.” Alec whispered my real name.
I hadn’t heard it since he’d left.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did as he instructed.
His blue eyes were filled with compassion—and that twinkle I had come to recognize.
“Don’t focus on your feet or what you’ve been taught. Listen to the music, feel your partner’s movements, and, above all else, enjoy the journey.”
“Journey?”
“A dance is like a journey,” he said. “There is a beginning, a middle, and an end—and so much to discover along the way about the person standing opposite from you.”
“And what are you discoverin’ ’bout me?” My words lilted with an Irish brogue. I didn’t know why I asked that question, slipping back into the cadence of speech I’d used since childhood. Would he think me too forward? Or would he think Iwas trying to flirt? After all, we were supposed to be doing that, too.
“You are inexperienced.”
Embarrassment warmed my neck and cheeks and I had to look away.
But he wasn’t finished. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Keira O’Day. Sweet, gentle, and innocent. Unsullied by this world you’ve entered.”
I looked back at him and saw the honesty in his gaze.
“It is my prayer that it will not ruin your tenderness,” he said.
“Sure now, and you’ve forgotten where I grew up. There’s nothing pure or tender about that.”
“I could never forget where you grew up.”
Of course he couldn’t. He knew the worst part of me and would always know.
We finished the waltz and then Peter played a polka—but I was so exhausted, I almost collapsed. When Peter asked if we wanted a third dance, Alec shook his head.
“I believe we’re done,” he said to the footman. “You may retire.”
“Very good, sir.” Peter bowed and left the room, looking as relieved as I felt.
“You should go to bed,” Alec said to me. “May I escort you to your room?”
I nodded and placed my arm through his.
We left the front parlor and entered the main hall. The wall sconces had been dimmed, and the house was quiet.
The stairway looked daunting as we came to the base of it.
But I drew up my strength with the hem of my gown, and we began to ascend.
Alec didn’t rush me, for which I was grateful.
The silence stretched between us, so I said, “Did you have a successful business trip to Newport?”
He didn’t need to answer for me to know it was disappointing. I could tell by the slope of his shoulders, the heaviness in his footsteps, and the way he let out a weighty breath.
“We have a business rival who is opening a hotel next to ours this summer and we’re already seeing our reservations dwindle. We cater to a wealthy clientele, and they have expensive tastes. Garfield’s hotel will be electrified. It would cost a fortune to electrify ours—and we couldn’t have it done by the summer, even if we tried. We’re also building a third hotel on Coney Island and that has cost more than we budgeted—much more.”
Did I admit I had overheard him discussing this issue with Aunt Maude? What would it hurt?
