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“No.” He looked down for a second. “I don’t think Grandmama meant it to be that sort of party.”

“I thought all parties had dancing.” Patience reached for the plate again, her prior reluctance gone. “They used to, before Papa died.”

The major inhaled audibly. “There will be dancing again. Your papa would want you to see dancing, and someday dance yourself.”

“I don’t know how to dance!” She giggled.

“You’ll learn,” he told her. “And you, too, Grace.”

There was a rush of whispering in high, sweet childish voices. A second, smaller, pair of feet slipped into view. Grace, Marianne’s younger daughter, reached out and took the last cake from the plate.

“Don’t tell Mama we said so,” said Patience. “Mama said we aren’t to bother you.”

“But you are not bothering me.” Major Hayes put the empty plate on the floor. “But you’ve made me think of dancing, and now I want to dance more than anything. Will you dance with me, Miss Patience?”

She giggled again. “No!”

He drew back. “No?”

“No!” she cried happily.

He sighed, then turned to her sister. “Will you dance with me, Miss Grace?”

To Cressida’s surprise, the child slid off the stair and put up her arms. He got to his feet and took her little hands in his, twirling her in circles and making her white nightgown bell out around her. A wide, nervous smile brightened her face, and then Patience jumped in, clapping her hands until her uncle gave her one hand and twirled her around, too. Both little girls stayed quiet, as if mindful they would be sent to bed if their mother discovered them, although their giggles grew louder as the major spun them in wider circles and finally scooped up Patience and swung her off her feet. Then he swung Grace, and Cressida felt her heart wobble at the open grin he wore. This was a side of the major she had never seen, and didn’t expect.

After he had swung them each a few times, he set them back down. “You’d better run along to bed now. Dancing wears a fellow out.”

“It was fun!” Patience hopped up and down in excitement. “You won’t tell Mama we were out of bed, will you?”

“Never. Now go, before she finds out on her own.”

“Oh! Come, Grace,” she said, taking her little sister’s hand. “Good night, Uncle!” With more giggling and some thumping, the children disappeared up the stairs.

Cressida belatedly realized she should slip away, but before she could take a step, the major had turned in her direction.

“Would you also like to dance, Miss Turner?”

Her face burned. “Oh, n-no,” she stammered. “I—I’m sorry, I did not mean to spy. I was just in search of some fresh air. . . ”

He smiled, and made no mention of the fact that she could have gone to the garden directly from the drawing room. “Ah. I won’t keep you from it.” He swept out one hand in wordless invitation, and she ducked her head and hurried past him, to the back of the house and out the door. She hoped he wouldn’t follow her. But she wasn’t at all surprised when his footsteps sounded behind her on the flagstones.

“So.” There was a click as he closed the door behind him. “Have you made up your mind about me?”

* * *

Miss Turner gave a guilty start. Alec prowled a step closer. He found he could bear the scorn and distrust well enough from almost everyone else, but for some reason he felt compelled to press her on the issue. Perhaps it was the way she stood her ground at his question, looking directly at him with her chin raised. Everyone else glanced away to avoid his gaze or shrank back if he spoke to them. His own nieces had recoiled as if he were an ogre come to eat them, until he offered the plate of sweets. At least Miss Turner wasn’t afraid of him.

“I’m still considering,” was her pert reply.

Alec clasped his hands behind him and hid a smile. He definitely liked this woman. “I see. Tonight you have me at your mercy. Ask me anything and I will answer.”

Her gaze shifted past him to the bright windows of the drawing room. The murmur of conversation and laughter spilled into the dark night. “You’re not at my mercy. You don’t have to speak to me at all.”

“Perhaps I would like to speak to you.” More than she might guess, he thought.

She rolled that enticing lower lip between her teeth. Alec, who had watched her do it again and again when he drove her into town, was mildly irate at himself for being so bewitched by that simple action. “Perhaps you're merely hiding here to avoid the other guests.”

“As you are?” As hoped, her lips parted at the counterattack, rosy pink and glistening. Perfect. He prowled a step closer.