“Freddie!” Lucia cried, and he tossed her a smirk.
“But,” he continued, “I shall not make another mistake and allow her to dance with Alvanley.”
“Oh, he’s harmless.”
Freddie didn’t answer, and Lucia looked away from the dance, a waltz, which was just commencing, and sliced a glance at him with her sapphire eyes. “Freddie, you cannot think to cut in.”
“Excellent suggestion, madam. If you will excuse me?”
“But I was not—! Oh, dear.”
Lucia’s jaw dropped as did those of the rest of the guests as Freddie carved through them and arrested his wife on the dance floor.
“You’re dancing with my wife, Alvanley.”
Charlotte let out a small squeak of astonishment, but Alvanley did not falter. He turned Charlotte away and said, “So I am, Dewhurst. And you’re interrupting. Go ’way.”
Freddie felt his face heat and clenched his fist to quell the urge to smack Alvanley so hard the man’s head spun around. Freddie caught a glimpse of Charlotte, her sherry-colored eyes wide and concerned. Alvanley turned her again, and Freddie caught her arm, tugging her out of Alvanley’s embrace and hauling her into his own.
“As a matter of fact, you are the one interrupting. From now on, no one dances with my wife but me. Madam?” he inquired, but did not wait for her response before sweeping her back into the dance. Pulling her close, he turned and swirled her until he knew she was so dizzy, she was no longer thinking of Alvanley or Pettigru or any other man, only of how to keep up with him.
Freddie’s thoughts, however, were of a more earthy nature. He loved the way she felt in his arms—the light press of her hand in his, the warmth of her body when he pulled her close. Heady with lust, he lowered his hand on her back slightly so that his fingers just grazed her derriere.
Charlotte trembled. “Sir, we are much too close.”
Freddie smiled. “I like you close. I want you closer.”
Her eyes flicked to his mouth, and he knew what she was thinking.
He leaned closer. “If you continue to devour me with your eyes in that manner, I might be forced to take you right here.”
She shivered, and he felt the tremor through to his own bones. “That might cause quite a scandal,” she murmured a moment later.
Freddie chuckled. “At this point I imagine the whole room is so scandalized that nothing we do will produce any greater effect.”
“Well, it is not every day that their paragon of etiquette breaks a rule, my lord.”
Freddie pulled her nearer, so near that his mouth was mere inches from hers. “Don’t do that, Charlotte.” He heard her catch her breath and swore he could hear the pounding of her heart.
Her dark eyes collided with his. “Do what?” she breathed.
“Call me lord. It’s not you.” Rapidly he spun her around the floor until she was breathless and laughing. “This is you.” He pulled her flush against him again, and warmed at the desire and promise he saw in her face.
“And do not presume to know everything about me, my little Yankee. I rather enjoy breaking the rules for you. Are you suitably shocked?”
“Scandalized.”
“Good. Then let me scandalize you further.” Taking her hand, he marched off the dance floor, pulling her behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte resisted Freddie only until she realized that doing so would cause a spectacle, and then she merely sent a fleeting look to Lucia. Lucia gave her a sympathetic wave, and then her friend’s blond hair was out of sight as Freddie tugged Charlotte through the ballroom door.
Charlotte turned, eager for a last glimpse of the room and possibly Cade, but she saw no one who looked like him.
It was only a few feet to the stairs and twenty-some steps to the next level of the house, but the distance felt farther than Charleston to China. They must have passed fifty or more guests, and each one turned to stare at them incredulously. Charlotte stared back. For a moment she was certain one of the dark-haired men was Cade, but when he turned his head, he had dark eyes, not Cade’s vibrant blue.
Despite the stares and Charlotte’s resistance, Freddie continued to drag her in his wake. They passed a gilded mirror in the hallway, and Charlotte noted that the color of her face matched her hair. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back, and the dress that had seemed so light and frothy now felt like a suit of armor.
