“Daenae I?” He continued to smile. “Because I would have said ye had accepted Mr. Withers’ offer to dance because he asked ye, and ye dinnae want to be rude in sayin’ nay. Nay doubt, yer aunt’s presence at yer side made the need to perform even greater.”
She tugged her hand off his arm, though she didn’t walk away. The sudden loss of touch made them both stare at each other, openly.
“That is not what was happening there,” she said, though her voice was shaky and the insistent tone she was hoping for was nonexistent. He didn’t say anything but quirked his eyebrows high. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“In that infuriating way,” she waved a mad hand in his direction. “It’s maddening.”
“Then, shall we dance instead?” He offered his hand to her. “Ye can continue to berate me if ye wish to.”
“If we dance again, people will talk.”
“In case ye hadnae noticed, lass, they talk of me anyway, and they talk of ye, too. Are ye nae the lass without a dowry? That must be their second favorite topic of conversation at the moment.” He eyed her carefully. “We could give them somethin’ to really talk about.” He winked at her.
“I thought I told ye that ye should nae wink at a lady.”
“Clearly, I still need more lessons.” He bent his head an inch toward her. “Come to mine tomorrow.”
“Hush,” she begged in a panicked tone, looking around them, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.
“For another lesson,” he added quickly.
“I wonder at why you want any more lessons at all.”
“What?”
“You said you are going back to Scotland.” She tried to speak plainly, without any degree of sadness or accusation in her tone. She looked away from him, all too aware that he said nothing, and just continued to stare straight at her.
Silence fell between them. The previous music faded away as the violinists stopped and the dancers left the floor. New dancers took their place, and slowly, the duke raised his hand to Charlotte again.
She longed to turn him down, to try and protect her own heart from further injury by him, but she knew to turn him down now when another had seen him place his name on her dance card would be inappropriate indeed. Tentatively, she placed her hand in his.
Without words, he led her onto the dance floor. It was no choreographed dance, no quadrille or cotillion, but another waltz. As they reached the middle of the floor, they bowed and curtsied to one another, then Charlotte stepped toward him.
He placed a hand on her waist, one so soft that she flinched. He took her hand and began their dance, escorting her around the floor with ease. He was so tall and so long of leg that he controlled the dance with great skill indeed. Having already shared one dance together, he seemed to have grown in confidence for this dance, leading Charlotte to trust him completely, leaning into him.
She could think of nothing to say so just stared at him, wondering madly in her mind why he looked at her with such intensity. The silence was not awkward, but tense instead, full of stolen glimpses at one another, with the two of them only occasionally glancing away at other people on the dance floor to avoid a collision.
They were halfway through the dance when he eventually found his voice.
“Ye dinnae ken I was goin’ back to Scotland.”
“No, I did not.”
“And it upsets ye?”
“I did not say that.” She chose to look somewhere in the center of his chest, avoiding looking him in the eye completely.
“Ye dinnae need to. Yer expression tells me all, lass.” His voice had softened, and he practically whispered the words in her ear. She could have sworn he tightened his hand over hers a little.It was an act of comfort, of kindness, in the middle of this busy room.
You are not at all the man I thought you would be.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she thought for a minute about the man that she had met the first night at the ball. The man they had all talked about and called a beast in a tailcoat. He had been icy, cool, sharp tongued and commanding. Now, she saw a different side of him entirely. He could indeed be commanding, sharp tongued, yes, but there was a softness, too.
He is a gentle giant.
Involuntarily, she leaned into him a little more, glad that they were now standing so close that it would have been uncomfortable for her to turn her chin up to look him in the eye.
