His entrance was a grand one—he looked magnificent, handsome and proud, tall and assured. He was dressed in a formal black suit, a riband across his chest bearing the many medals of Santiava. His dark hair was brushed back, his beard neatly trimmed. He hardly stepped foot into the ballroom before he was accosted by guests.
Just seeing him gave her a bit of a shiver. His lips had been on hers. They’d been on her neck. And in her dreams, they’d been everywhere else.
There was one thing she could say for herself—she was not the least bit shy about torturing herself.
She had hoped to catch his eye, to show him that she had come. But Lady Aleksander quickly intercepted him and began to introduce him to ladies. It looked as if he didn’t have a moment to breathe, much less look around.
She wondered what it was like for him, to be the fish in the bowl, given what he’d told her about his childhood. She imagined herself in another life, at his side, soothing him with her presence. She would be the one to do all the talking, for which she knew he’d be grateful. The thought made her smile.
“What are you smiling at?”
Hattie jumped at the sound of Queenie’s voice. “Oh, just...everything.”
“Hmm,” Queenie said, and looked across the room to where Teo was talking to a lady.
“Have you seen Flora?”
“She’s in the retiring room, letting her nerves get the best of her,” Queenie said. “Look, the dancing is about to begin. I overheard two ladies placing a small wager on who he’d start the dance with. Who do you suppose they said?”
“Flora?”
“Flora, yes...and Christiana Porter.” She rolled her eyes. “Looks always win over anything else when it comes to gentlemen. I won’t be the least surprised when he offers for her. It’s simply biology.”
The small orchestra began to play a waltz.
“There’s Flora,” Queenie said, and moved away from Hattie, presumably to be on hand for the moment Teo asked Flora to dance. She would probably claim she’d arranged it or knew in advance.
Teo walked deeper into the room, his gaze scanning the crowd. Everyone was watching him, to see how he’d start the dance. His mother was talking to him, leaning into him with a possessive tilt of her body. But Teo ignored her and began to cross the dance floor.
The crowd murmured, looking around them, trying to see who the lucky lady was. And then the crowd was parting. Andthen, as if Hattie was in a dream, Teo walked up to her. He bowed.
Hattie’s mouth gaped open. She quickly glanced around, almost certain someone would leap out of the drapes or the flowers to haul her away. “Miss Woodchurch, good evening.”
“What—Good evening,” she said, remembering herself, and curtsied.
“May I say, you look...beautiful. I hope that you will do me the honor of the first dance.”
He was mad!“Me?”
“I would be my great pleasure.”
“I don’t... I have—”
He smoothly took the glass from her hand and held it out without taking his gaze from her. A footman appeared from the ether and took the glass from him. Teo held up his arm.
She looked at it.
“Just put your hand on it,” he murmured.
She numbly placed her hand on his arm.
He led her onto the dance floor and smiled down at her. “Dios mío, I hope you know how to dance,” he whispered. He took her hand and held it out, then put his hand on her back.
She stared at him, still shocked this was happening. She couldn’t seem to move properly, but somehow managed to put her hand on his shoulder.
He stepped into the rhythm of the waltz.
She followed without stumbling, her gaze fixed on a point over his shoulder.
