The moment Lord Brookmire said her name, Deborah’s whole body flooded with light. She turned sharply, her hand reaching out for him as Lord Brookmire’s fingers found hers. Relieved that they were in the shadows at the side of the ballroom, Deborah pressed his hand firmly, a smile spreading across her face as Lord Brookmire grinned at her.
“Before you ask, yes, the evening was successful.” His free hand ran over his eyes, but his smile remained. “I did nothing whatsoever but, needless to say, I was able to escape from Lord Anderton’s demands as a result of the aid of Lord Yardley and Lord Sherbourne… as well as Lord Norville’s greed!”
Her heart slammed hard against her ribs as her eyes flew wide.
“Then another gentleman dared to cheat?”
Lord Brookmire nodded.
“I spoke briefly to Lord Sherbourne later in the evening. He assured me that the gentlemen both he and Lord Yardley encouraged to the table were all known to be inclined towards cheating at one time or another.” Chuckling softly, he shrugged, and Deborah pressed her other hand to her heart, joyous with relief.
“How glad I am to hear it.”
“As I was to see it!”
She laughed, then finally released his hand and threw a glance over her shoulder to make certain that her mother had not noticed. Lady Prescott was only a few steps away but her back was turned towards Deborah as she remained in deep conversation with another lady.
“I confess, I was very worried indeed for you, all last evening. I barely slept for fear of what might have taken place! I am relieved to hear that Lord Marchmont has been spared any difficulty and that your friendship has not been ruined.”
Noticing how Lord Brookmire’s eyes searched her face, and seeing his gentle smile directed solely towards her, caused a blush to warm her cheeks. The emotions he brought up in her were becoming more severe every time he simplylookedat her, every time he was near. It was as though her heart threw itself into a tumult of exultation and delight. How could it be that the gentleman she had despised, the gentleman she had demanded silently she stay away from, was now the only one she wanted close to her?
“Might I…” Lord Brookmire looked away suddenly, rubbing one hand over his chin. “Mayhap it is much too presumptuous of me, but I was hoping that you might have a dance card that I could…?” Squeezing his eyes closed, he let out a long breath. “It seems, Miss Madeley, as though your presence encourages my words to throw themselves around so that they come out quite tangled!”
The excitement and anticipation now flooding her had Deborah ready to dance where she stood. Was he really asking her to dance? The thought of being in his arms had her skin burning hot and, without a word, she slipped her dance card from her wrist and handed it to him. With a jolt, she recalled that she had not asked her mother if she and Lord Brookmire could stand up together, but all the same, Deborah’s heart would not allow her to refuse him.
“Miss Madeley?”
Lord Brookmire looked at her dance card, a small frown dancing across his forehead.
“Were you asking whether or not you might sign my dance card? If you wish to do so, then my answer would be yes.”
She held it out to him, seeing how his eyes flew to hers, rounding gently. Embarrassment flew through her and she dropped her hand, suddenly mortified. Perhaps she had been presumptuous. Perhaps Lord Brookmire had not been about to ask her to dance!
“My dear Miss Madeley.” The gentle tenderness in his voice had her embarrassment fading. “Pray, do not mistake my hesitation for disinclination. It is only that I did not expect you to be so willing.”
Deborah said nothing, swallowing the tightness in her throat. For what was there for her to say, as regarded this willingness? It was not as though she could tell him that the reason for her eagerness was because of how deeply her emotions swirled whenever she thought of him. She could not express to him the thrill which flitted through her at the thought of being in his arms. Whatever dance it was he chose, whether it be the quadrille, the country dance, or even the waltz, she could hardly wait to be close to him.
“I would have taken your waltz were it not for fear that your mother would refuse.” With a smile, he handed back her dance card. “The cotillion, I think, and thereafter the polka, if you are quite contented with that.”
Blinking rapidly, she looked at her dance card carefully, a little surprised to see that there were two dances where his initials were placed.
“Two dances.”
She said such a thing without any real awareness and it was only when Lord Brookmire’s eyes flared that she attempted to explain herself.
“I am not at all upset by it, Lord Brookmire, it is only that I am a little surprised. You are kind enough to ask to dance with me, but to dance twice together…”
Did he know the significance of what he had done? Her eyes held his and, after a moment, Lord Brookmire moved a little closer.
“I hope you know just how much you have come to mean to me.” His breath ran lightly across her cheek, as though it were a gentle touch from his hand, and she shivered lightly. “I admire you greatly, Miss Madeley. I find that your compassion, your willing spirit, and your sweetness have taken hold of me. I struggle to think of anyone I admire more than you.”
His confession was so utterly astonishing, that his words froze her in position. Her feet were anchored to the floor, her hands stuck to her sides, and her eyes fixed on his. There would have been a time when she would have doubted his words to be genuine, but now, as she looked at him, she could tell that there was no guile there upon his lips. Was it possible that he was feeling as she did? Could it be that his heart held the same feelings as her own? And if it was so, then what was she to do with it? Did it mean that she might find herself one day taking tea with him? Thathewould be the one she would walk alongside in the park? The thought of such a thing made her smile and, on seeing it, Lord Brookmire lifted his eyebrow in question. Laughing, she dropped her head quickly, a little embarrassed.
“I do hope this gentleman is not bothering you, Miss Madeley.”
The warmth between herself and Lord Brookmire faded as Deborah forced a smile, turning towards Lord Cleverley, catching the frown on his face, and noting how his eyes narrowed as he looked at Lord Brookmire. A little irritated by his arrival – for, inadvertently, he had interrupted what had been a very pleasant, if somewhat confusing moment with Lord Brookmire – she shook her head.
“No, indeed, not, Lord Cleverley.” Lord Cleverley looked at her, one eyebrow lifting in question. “Lord Brookmire was simply signing my dance card.”
