“And you were right,” Timothy said. “The girl’s far prettier than any of us gave her credit for, and I think we can all admit the fact—even Freddie, here.”
“I will admit it,” Freddie said, moving in front of him, and forcing Max to lean around him to keep watching Evie as the music ended and Harbisher escorted her back to Delia’s side. “Of all the girls in London, I’d never have thought her to have a partner for every single dance tonight. Never.”
“And,” Thomas said, “since I see Ronald Anstruther headed in her direction, looking very purposeful, I think it’s time to admit defeat.”
“Don’t concede yet, gentlemen,” Max told them and set aside his glass of tepid rum punch. “For if I have my way, I’m about to lose.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he stepped around Freddie and walked away, making for Evie. Thankfully, he reached her before Anstruther. Bowing in front of her, he said, “May I have this dance?”
Evie stared at him, her eyes wide, her lips parting in shock.
Beside her, Delia laughed. “You never cease to surprise me, Cousin.”
“Evie?” He held out his hand. “Will you?”
She stirred, glancing past his shoulder. “I can’t,” she said, a regret in her voice he found immensely gratifying. “I’ve promised the last waltz to Ronald Anstruther. He’s headed this way right now to claim me.”
“Is that the only reason you refuse?”
“Of course,” she whispered. “How could you think otherwise?”
Ronald joined them before he could reply, but Max had no intention of being gainsaid now.
“Then it’s a problem easily solved,” he told her, and turned to Ronald. “Sorry, old chap,” he said and took Evie’s hand in his. “Ducal privilege.”
He pulled her with him onto the dance floor. “See how easy that was?” he said, smiling into her astonished face as he bowed.
“Max, you just lost the bet.”
“So I did,” he replied and straightened. “You have to curtsy to me. It’s expected, and everyone’s watching us.”
She dipped at the knees, the barest courtesy required. “But why?”
He took her hand in his and slid his other hand to the small of her back. “Evie,” he said tenderly. “After what happened between us at Idyll Hour, did you really think I could pass up the chance to hold you in my arms again?”
She had no chance to reply, for at that moment, the music began, and he started off, pulling her with him, and it wasn’t until they had made several turns around the ballroom floor that she spoke.
“Why are you doing this? Why dance with me? Why talk of holding me in your arms when you’re going to marry Lady Helen? Why aren’t you dancing with her?”
“Well, for one thing, she’s not here. She’s at the embassy ball in honor of Prince Olaf. She’s dancing with him at this very moment, I daresay.”
“Don’t tease me, Max. Don’t make jokes.”
“I’m not joking. I mean what I say. And I’m not going to marry Helen.”
“You’re not?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. Not now. You see, Evie, you’ve revealed me to myself. You’ve made me realize that no matter how I’ve tried to believe otherwise, I can’t marry just because it’s suitable.”
“Like Rory and me.” She sighed. “I ought to be sorry, I suppose, that I ruined your plans.”
He had a new plan now, one he’d made that fateful afternoon in the library at Idyll Hour, one that was his only choice if he didn’t want to go mad. But he couldn’t tell it to Evie, for if he did, she’d probably bolt for the nearest door.
“Are you really sorry, Evie?” he said instead. “Because I’m not.”
She bit her lip, and she took so long to answer that he thought she wasn’t going to. “No,” she said at last. “I should be, but I’m not. You see...”
She paused, lowering her gaze. “You see, I’ve been wanting it, too,” she said, her voice so low that over the music, he barely heard.
