Page 16 of A Game of Hearts

“More tea, Miss Everton?” Lady Anne’s voice carried just far enough to draw notice. “You seem quite flushed. Perhaps the dancing was too... vigorous for you?”

Emma felt heat climb her cheeks but kept her voice steady.

“Not at all. Though your concern does you credit.”

“One must be concerned for those less accustomed to proper society entertainments.” Lady Anne’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “But then, Lord Limnwood seemed quite willing to... guide you through the steps.”

Before Emma could respond, Lady Agatha’s cool voice cut in.

“Indeed. My niece is fortunate in her partner. Though I noticed that Lord Limnwood maintained perfect form throughout - unlike some who seemed more interested in drawing attention than in dancing correctly.”

Lady Anne’s face tightened. She opened her mouth to respond, but Lord James’ arrival interrupted her.

“I say, is that Cook’s famous chocolate cake? I declare, the Duke’s table puts all others to shame.” He dropped into a chair beside Lady Beatrice. “Though I’m more impressed by how well everyone managed the waltz. We’ll all need to improve, as I’m quite sure we’ll see it being danced, more and more, at most society events. Even poor Lord Henry improved by the end. Don’t you agree, Limnwood?”

Emma couldn’t help looking up as Lord Limnwood joined their group. Their eyes met briefly before both looked away.

“Indeed.” His voice gave nothing away. “Monsieur Girard is an excellent instructor.”

“Though some pupils clearly needed less instruction than others,” Lady Anne observed. “You and Miss Everton seemed perfectly... in harmony.”

Emma saw Lord Limnwood’s shoulders stiffen slightly.

“Miss Everton follows well.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, laden with meaning that had nothing to do with dancing. Emma’s hands trembled slightly as she set down her teacup.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She rose carefully. “I believe that I left my shawl in the music room.”

“Let me escort you,” Lord Limnwood said automatically.

“No!” The word came out sharper than was really appropriate. She moderated her tone. “Thank you, my Lord, but I’m sure I can manage.”

She felt his eyes on her as she left the room, and heard Lady Anne’s quiet laugh. But she couldn’t stay there another moment, watching him retreat behind his walls of propriety while her own heart betrayed her with every beat. In the hall, she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. What was happening to her carefully ordered world? A few days ago, she had thought Lord Limnwood cold, proper, and completely unlikeable. Now...

“Miss Everton?”

She started at his voice. He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“My Lord, please. We should not...”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed unconscious. “But I must say... that is, I should apologise...”

“No.” She straightened, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “We both... that is, nothing happened that requires apology.”

“Doesn’t it?” His voice roughened. “I behaved...”

“Quite properly, I assure you.” She managed a smile. “After all, nothing actually occurred.”

“But something might have.” He took a step closer, then stopped himself. “If Lady Beatrice hadn’t...”

“But she did. And now we both know better.” Emma lifted her chin. “Shall we agree to maintain perfect propriety henceforth?”

His eyes darkened.

“Is that what you want?”

“What I want...” She caught herself. “What I want is irrelevant, my Lord. We both know what society demands.”