Page 12 of What a Widow Wants

“My lord, you know we may only dance together twice or I will be ruined.” Fanny managed to snatch her book back before he could mar any more lines. “That is not permitted.”

“Is there no social dispensation for widows where dancing is concerned?” His brows rose innocently.

“You know there is not.” Fanny longed to rap his knuckles with her fan. “You must go about and engage other ladies as well.”

Lord Lathbury turned immediately, bowed to Elizabeth then turned back to Fanny. “Will you introduce me to your friend, Lady Stephen?”

Fanny glared at him. “You are bold tonight, Matthew.”

“Not at all, my dear.” He smiled engagingly at Elizabeth.

Mouth puckered to repress a smile, her friend nodded.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his obvious subterfuge, Fanny summoned her manners. “Very well, then. Mrs. Richard Easton, may I make known to you Lord Lathbury. My lord, this is my friend, Mrs. Easton, who is my companion here in Brighton.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Easton. How do you do?” He bowed and kissed her hand.

“Good evening, my lord. I am honored.” Elizabeth dipped a curtsy, her eyes sparkling as Fanny hadn’t seen them since her husband’s death. She might be jealous if she didn’t suspect her friend found their encounter with Matthew extremely amusing.

“Will you allow me the pleasure of dancing the third set with you?”

“I would be delighted, Lord Lathbury.” Elizabeth shot Fanny a mirthful look as she wrote Lord Lathbury’s name in her dance card.

“Thank you, ma’am. I will return shortly to claim you.” He turned and offered his arm to Fanny. “I believe this one is mine, Lady Stephen.”

With a rueful smile, she hooked her arm in his and he led her to the floor where the set for a quadrille was making up. They took their places as the first couple, and Fanny bowed to her corner, then to her partner, then they began the quick, light steps of the dance.

Surprisingly, Matthew kept up quite well for a man of his powerful build. She’d not danced with him for many years, and he’d been little more than a young man then, accustomed to these skipping steps. Yet he seemed not to have changed at all in that respect, for he kept pace easily with her and their second couple, though the dance was spritely. They circled, going into the promenade, where she became all too aware how near she was to her partner.

The room had not seemed so close five minutes before, however now the heat of the glittering candles and chandeliers pressed in on Fanny, intensifying the scents of hot wax, sweet pomade, and the bergamot cologne that always brought Matthew to mind. Her body began to twitch.

He took her hand as they changed places with the other first couple, coming back to their original place as the second couples began their part of the dance. Now was the time to rest, catch her breath before the second part of the quadrille commenced.

“Your gown becomes you, Fanny.” Matthew leaned toward her, speaking so low she had to lean toward him to catch his words.

“You always liked me in green.” At one point she must have had four gowns in varying shades of it.

“And you remembered.”

Curse the man. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t wear this for you.” Oh, but she had, knowingly or not.

“You protest too much. Is it a sin to admit you remember me?”

She caught a satisfied look from the corner of her eye and clenched her fist. A moment to recall where she was and she relaxed her hands. “Not a sin to be sure, but perhaps not wise.”

“Leave the wisdom to Athena, Fanny. You should remain Aphrodite, goddess of passion.” So close to her ear she could feel the rush of air, his lips lingered on the word and she shivered.

Before she could protest, the second figure was called. Matthew bowed to her, but the steps of this section required him to dance mostly with the other first lady. In the third section Fanny had to dance with her other partner until the second couples again took to the floor. Now she could tell Matthew she would have both passion and wisdom in her life, as she had not had them ever before.

Raising her chin, she opened her lips—

“Fanny, will you marry me?”

Her mouth remained open, though no words would come. She must look a right fool to anyone paying her any mind. With an effort she closed her mouth. Why did the man keep proposing? She’d already given him her answer. But before she could remind him of it, the third figure commenced and she was off, crossing the floor with her opposite partner. When she returned to her place she had to take Matthew’s hand as the steps demanded. The heat of his palm penetrated her glove, shooting up her arm until it flushed her face.

At last the second couples took over once more and she smiled at Matthew, teeth clenched. “Do you intend to propose to me every time you see me, Lord Lathbury?”

A deep chuckle rumbled up through his chest. “Only until you accept me, my dear. As soon as you say yes, I promise I will ask no more.”