Page 38 of A Symphony for the Earl

“Take out your dance card, Fiona,” Lady Amelia whispered.

As she removed it from her reticule, Richard held out his hand. She could scarcely refuse him in front of the onlookers and gave him the paper and a small pencil. He scrawled his name in several places and returned the items. Noting the line of waiting gentlemen, he gave her a wry smile and went over to join Denys, who had wandered beyond the small crowd.

She glanced down and saw he had claimed both waltzes and the last space on her card. By the time her line of partners disbanded, her card was full except for a few lines she had crossed out, as Valentina suggested.

*

Richard surveyed the crowded room with Denys as they stood in an alcove overlooking the dance floor. The spectacularly penniless Lord Southard had managed to capture his ward for the second dance. She had accepted the Marquis of Fellingham for the third, no doubt to annoy him.

“Well, you have certainly escorted the two loveliest ladies in the room, my friend. Miss Rafferty may not be the usual fashion, but she is stunning nonetheless.”

“They both have engaged to drive me insane,” he answered grimly. “Valentina refused to settle on Sir William Denton, and now Miss Rafferty has taken it into her head to encourage the gentleman. She delights in opposing every request I make.”

“If I know you, they were demands instead of requests. Recollect how you might handle a headstrong filly, Richard. Not by bringing her harshly to bit; your skills warrant a patient approach. Why wouldn’t Sir William be an excellent match for Fiona? He is eminently eligible and they are a striking couple.”

“He wouldn’t suit her,” Richard growled. “And you may call her Miss Rafferty.” He preferred Fiona marry some old man who would hide her in the country where he didn’t have to watch her flirting with William Denton. Damnation, was he getting a headache? The familiar tightness banded the back of his neck and the excess of candlelight suddenly seemed too bright.

“I hope I may ask Valentina for the first waltz?”

“You might as well…since she won’t entertain anyone I suggest.” Denys grinned and Richard cast a speculative look at his friend.

“Have you aspirations in that quarter, Denys? I have noticed a certain interest from time to time that has given me pause.”

He reddened slightly. “Valentina sees me as a childhood friend, something like a brother. There is scarcely a possibility of more.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“No,” he said with a smile, “it does not. I see Mrs. Fairweather approaching determinedly with her daughter in tow; one of us is in her sights. I shall take the initiative and ask the girl to dance, lisp and all. You are in my debt, Richard.”

Denys walked resolutely toward a hatchet-faced woman wearing an imposing puce turban.

Richard reflected on their conversation. Would he consider his closest friend as a suitor for Valentina? She had never given any indication of romantic interest in him, which was just as well, because Denys Spencer was not the match Richard hoped to achieve for her.

*

Fiona danced twice more with men she could scarcely remember; both were tedious companions, offering extravagant compliments and vacuous speeches. She had decided to sit out the country dance, which she was still slow and unsure of. She found an empty chair and scanned the room, spotting Valentina sipping lemonade with a titian-haired young man.

Lord Richard emerged from the crowd, crossing the room. Her heart skittered. Well, why wouldn’t it? He was the most interesting and attractive man here. After the pallid encounters she had endured in the last hour, she craved his company.

He reached her side and offered his hand. “Come, Fiona, let us take our places for the waltz.”

She took a deep breath and placed her gloved hand on his arm as he led her to the dance floor. Her heart was pounding so loudly she thought the entire room must hear. He put his left arm around her waist and raised his right, palm open. Fiona matched it, and his fingers closed around hers. She was mere inches from him as they waited for the dance to begin.

“Courage, Fiona. Lift your chin and look at me. You are the most dazzling woman in the room tonight.”

“Oh, no, Richard. I’m sure your sister claims that title.”

“Ah…Richard sounds much better than Lord Richard. Valentina is beautiful, but you are breaking hearts tonight.”

“You’re unusually free with your compliments. Are you flirting with me? To distract me, perhaps? I confess, my heart is pounding.”

“Just relax and trust me.” The music began, and he spun her into the crowd.

Waltzing to a piano was one thing, but the swell of the orchestra made the entire experience magical and yet terrifying in the same breath. Richard partnered her expertly, swirling between the numerous couples that flooded the floor with effortless skill. They dipped, swaying to the cascading rhythm, and circled the room again and again. Her heart was racing; she drew closer, faintly dizzy and very aware of the contact of his long legs, the strong clasp of his hands, and how their bodies brushed, then parted with the movement of the dance.

Her eyes were level with his cheek, and she could see the faint shadow beneath his freshly shaven jaw. Just a fraction closer and her lips would brush his skin. Excitement rippled through her at the thought and his hand tightened on her waist.

The nearness, the height and breadth of him were intoxicating. How easily he could lift her and crush her against the solid wall of his chest. Her breasts tightened, tingling against the constraints of her gown, and a delicious tension spiraled through her loins.