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“Oh, we have our dancing masters. My mother hired one when I was twelve to see to it that I knew every waltz, reel, and minuet that might be played at a ball. Although my family’s interaction with Chicago society was limited, she had a great sense of doing things the right way. Fortunately, while other boys might have complained, I enjoyed my dancing lessons as much as I enjoyed baseball.”

The orchestra finished playing with a flourish.

She began to pull away a little bit, but he held her fast.

“Dance with me again, Miss Pearce.”

“What if I have promised the next one to one of the men who called on me last week?”

“Have many called on you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“I see. And do any of them have your promises?”

She held his gaze, the flicker of a challenge in his question. “No.”

“Then dance with me again.”

Adele let out a little laugh. “But Mr. Whitley, that is not how things are done.”

It would create quite a stir, the pair of them dancing twice in a row. Already, she could see the darting glances of a group of ladies near them who fluttered their fans to cover their gossiping lips.

“Hang how things are done. I am enjoying the pleasure of your company, and I would like another dance,” he said.

She knew she should say no, but wasn’t this what she was supposed to be doing? Dancing again with Mr. Whitley would send such a statement through the room that he had chosen her.

Across the room, she caught her mother’s eye. Mama gave her a small nod.

Adele let out a breath. “How could I turn down such a generous offer?”

The orchestra struck up again, and once again they began to move.

“Might I make a confession?” he asked after a moment.

“Certainly.”

“I have been looking forward to the pleasure of your company since your mother accepted my invitation to supper.”

“Is that right?” she asked.

“How else could I ensure that I would have the company of the beautiful Miss Pearce?”

“I didn’t realize you sought out my company,” she said.

He pulled her in a little closer, even if it was only by a fraction and still just within the bounds of what would not set chins wagging. “Why exactly do you think I keep happening to be on the Arroyo Seco trail at the same time you take your ride?”

“I thought that was mere coincidence,” she said.

“And what of our conversations at Mrs. Barnes’s dinner table?”

“We move in the same circles, and it would have been impolite not to speak to an acquaintance when seated next to her.”

“Do you truly not know I am courting you?” he asked.

She tilted her head back to study him. “How could I know when you have taken no steps to make your intentions known to me or my parents?”

“Do you wish me to send you flowers like Mr. Blythe or take you on drives like Mr. Henry has done?”