“Raphe took a couple of books with him, never selling them no matter how desperate we were. Instead, he traded them for new books and continued doing so until we’d learned about all sorts of subjects. Maybe it was my need to understand why I was often sick that fueled my interest in the medical texts he occasionally procured, or maybe they simply appealed to me because they were interesting. Either way, I would love to hear whatever you have to say on the subject, so by all means, please go on.”
Florian’s face lit up, not with a smile or anything close to humor, but with the sort of enthusiasm a child might display when encountering a puppy for the very first time. His shoulders even seemed to relax and his voice eased into something much smoother than she’d ever heard before as he told her the history behind not only the lithotrite but other medical instruments as well.
It wasn’t until he finished telling her about René Laennec’s invention of the stethoscope three years earlier that Juliette realized the other guests had returned to the ballroom. Perhaps she ought to look for Vivien and see if she wanted company? She’d left her alone for quite some time already and... Florian glanced around, apparently noticing the same thing as her. Dismay crossed his face and then he blinked, focusing back on her.
Juliette’s heart leapt and her stomach rolled over, the look in his eyes revealing a deeper respect than he’d ever shown her before. “I was wondering,” he said, speaking as though he hadn’t expected to say something more. “Would you like to dance the next set with me?”
“I um...”
“Unless you’re already engaged of course, in which case—”
“Yes.” He frowned and she realized she hadn’t been clear with her answer. “I’d love to dance the next set with you.”
His eyes held hers, drawing her in and holding her captive. Whatever his thoughts, he hid them well. “Good.” The word stirred the air, propelling them both into action as he pushed back his chair, stood and offered his hand.
Her palm connected with his, and even through the silk fabric of her gloves she could feel his heat and his strength rousing her senses. Confused by her curious response, which was unlike any she’d experienced before, she inhaled deeply and deliberately tried to concentrate on her posture and walk. The last thing she wanted to do was fall over and she feared she might do so at any moment.
It didn’t help that he kept quiet while guiding her through to the ballroom, his silence settling between them like a heavy block of awkwardness. Juliette tried to think of something to say, but nothing seemed right or compelling enough in the wake of their recent discussion.
Entering the ballroom, her attention was momentarily drawn to Vivien, who was laughing at something Gabriella was saying. She caught Juliette’s gaze for a second and gave her a cheeky smile after acknowledging who she was with. Juliette responded with a reprimanding frown—the sort that was meant to suggest there was nothing between herself and Florian and no need for Vivien to try and imply otherwise.
They reached the dance floor and Juliette became increasingly aware that they were being watched. By everyone. “Your new position has certainly caused some attention,” she said as he slid his arm out from under hers and led her forward by the hand.
“An unfortunate consequence indeed,” he said as he took his position across from her.
She glanced around. “What are we dancing?” She’d been so distracted by her thoughts and by the crowd and perhaps a little by Florian as well, she hadn’t had time to consider the steps she would soon have to make.
“The waltz,” he said.
A flutter rose up from Juliette’s stomach to beat more rapidly inside her chest. In other words, she was about to be pulled into his arms, to have him daringly close. She wasn’t sure why she found the prospect both troubling and enticing or why she felt the need to both run from him and to stay.
“There’s no need for alarm,” he added with impassive detachment. “It’s only a dance.”
“Of course it is,” she said, aiming for her most nonchalant tone of voice and sounding breathless instead. She swallowed, chided herself for her silliness and squared her shoulders. This was Florian after all, the sternest man she’d ever met. Waltzing with him would likely be an unflappable experience.
But then the music started and he stepped toward her. His hand closed over hers while the other settled firmly against her lower back, pulling her closer. Juliette’s heart tripped over, her feet moving of their own accord, thank heaven, because her mind was in no position to make sure she got the steps right. Not when all she could think of was the precision with which he moved. His posture was stiffer than any of the other dance partners she’d had and yet, in spite of that, he seemed to possess a greater degree of elegance.
Not to mention, the way he held her. It suggested dedication toward her—as though he meant to ensure she did not falter. The thought of him being so considerate warmed her heart and it struck her that she shouldn’t have been surprised to discover he cared beneath his otherwise blunt and growly manner. Because what other man would dedicate his life to helping the sick than the sort of man capable of deep compassion?
“Your sister-in-law has worked a miracle with you and your siblings,” Florian said as he led her around the edge of the dance floor. “You dance much better than I expected.”
Trust him to crush her romanticized thoughts of him with a dose of unrefined candor. “What you’re experiencing now is the result of several months’ practice.” It had been hard and grueling, especially in the beginning. She met his gaze and arched a brow, intent on giving as good as he gave. “You dance much better than I expected as well, by the way. In fact, I never thought you were the dancing sort.”
“I’m not.”
When he failed to elaborate, she simply had to ask, “Then why on earth would you choose to dance two sets in the course of one evening?”
“It wasn’t by choice,” he said. His brow knit and he suddenly added, “Except with you. I invited you to dance because I wanted to. The other dance was an obligation.”
Juliette tilted her head back and gazed up into his face, at the firm outline of his jaw and the hard shape of his lower lip. Except, it wasn’t really hard at all, was it? It was smooth and supple and only looked hard because of the way it was set. His eyes were difficult to see as they stared out over the top of her head, but she noticed for the very first time that his lashes were long and black, beautiful even, if such a word could be used to describe them.
He must have realized she was staring, for he dropped his gaze and locked it with hers while twirling her between two other couples. His fingertips pressed slightly harder against her back, producing a buzzing sensation at the base of her spine.
“I see,” she said because she felt the need to say something in order to distract herself from the way she had started responding to him. “Then I am flattered.”
He puffed out a breath. “Indeed, it is I who ought to be flattered by your willingness to listen while I went on about surgical tools.”
“I would have found an excuse to extricate myself from that discussion if I had wanted to do so,” she said, needing him to understand that she’d genuinely enjoyed hearing what he’d had to say on the subject.
