Yet, it took everything he had not to do it anyway, to ruin her for everyone but himself.
“Sending you away from my residencewasthe honorable thing to do,” he reminded her gently. “If you had stayed…”
He peeled away from her as the dance commanded, separated by two lines of other dancers. He strode down his side, catching glimpses of her through the skirts and raised arms and heads of ladies and gentlemen, like seeing sunlight through trees on a bleak afternoon. His heart thudded to the rhythm of his steps, willing her to look back at him.
But her head was bowed, her chin to her chest, hiding her fire from him, leaving him cold.
They came back together, standing in front of each other, palm pressed to palm. For a few moments, he thought she might not look at him at all, keeping her head down until the music ended and they separated from each other. And there was nothing he could do, in front of such a crowd, to feel the warmth of her gaze again, if she did not wish to look at him.
But then, her eyes lifted, a breathiness in her voice as she murmured, “If I had stayed… what?” She paused, her throat bobbing. “What else was there to learn from you?”
“Many things,” he whispered back. “Endless things. Things you could not imagine, that would probably serve you no benefit in society, but… not everything needs to be done for society’s judgment.”
“Such as?” Flushed, eyes bright, Valeria stumbled as he stepped back in time with the music, where she had forgotten.
Her foot stamped down on his to regain her balance, alarm spreading across her face, her eyes widening. There was a brief jolt of pain that did not last, his fleeting grimace turning into a smile as he steadied her, his hands lingering on her arms for just a moment, so as not to cause any scandal.
As far as anyone spectating knew, he was merely helping Miss Maxwell recover from a clumsy accident. They did not need to know that he relished the closeness, and wished the two of them were in his drawing room instead, away from public scrutiny.
“I would begin, Miss Maxwell,” he purred, laughing softly, “with several dancing lessons. Nothing dampens one’s admiration quite as swiftly as a broken toe.”
He wanted to whisper,“Tonight. Come to me tonight,”but the music was fading, and the lull of noise made it impossible to say something so bold and not risk her reputation completely. Instead, he bowed to her and watched her curtsy in reply, his invitation left unspoken.
“Thank you for the dance,” he said instead, leading her away from the dance floor.
She frowned up at him, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “I hope your foot is not too damaged.” She hesitated. “Sorry for stepping on it.”
“I barely felt it,” he replied, taking her hand from his arm and letting it fall. “I am sorry, too.”
She squinted in suspicion. “For what?”
“For hindering your progress.” He tilted his head in the direction of the viscount and the baron, who watched eagerly, no doubt anticipating her return.
And for sending you away.He kept that part to himself, for if Valeria was to succeed before the end of the Season, he could not be a distraction. Indeed, he would not be the reason she failed.
“Happy hunting, Valeria,” he murmured, bringing her gloved hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the velvet… and trying very hard not to think of her mouth, and whether those lips of hers would be just as soft.
With that, he left her alone, striding through the crowd of guests in as casual a manner as he could muster. But he did not stop at the refreshment room or the smoking room or any other room; rather, he continued on until he was out of the house and into the fresh air, where he immediately asked that his horse be fetched.
Hisevening had ended with that dance, and he would not be accused of playing games by lingering to watch her.
Her evening would continue without him, and he hoped she might find a husband worthy of her, somewhere on that full dance card. Someone more than just ‘agreeable.’ Then, and only then, would he consider his debt paid.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Iapologize, Lord Tarporley, but I cannot dance as I promised,” Valeria said, feeling a touch guilty. “I do not know if it is polite to say so, but my feet are in agony. It has been a while since I have danced so much, and I fear it has taken a toll.”
She braced for the baron’s disapproval or a cutting remark to make her feel worse than she already did. But seconds passed, and it did not come, prompting her to peer up at the man.
He inclined his head, a confused expression upon his face as if he, too, was wondering why he had not directed a sharp comment at her. “I have admired you greatly, Miss Maxwell. It has been as much of a pleasure to observe as it would have been to dance with you myself, but… you are not to blame for sore feet.”
He smiled slightly. “I wish you a swift recovery and, perhaps, we might dance at another occasion?”
“I should like that,” she replied evenly, uncertain of what she had done to the baron to make him gentler toward her.
He smiled a little brighter. “May I put my name on your dance card ahead of such an event?”
“You shall be the very first upon it,” she promised, bewildered.
