Lenora snatched at her glass, taking a deep draft of the punch in an effort to quench her suddenly parched throat.
“What I want to know,” Mr. Nesbitt said, leaning against the wall, “is where he learned to dance like that in the first place.”
Lenora, in the process of tipping her glass back to drain the rest of her beverage, promptly choked.
“I say, Miss Hartley,” Mr. Nesbitt said, coming up behind Lenora and pounding her on the back with enthusiasm, “are you all right? I do hate it when that happens.”
She gasped for breath, trying with all her might to tell the man to stop. The music must have ended just then, for within seconds Peter was at her side.
“Quincy, what the blazes do you think you’re doing to Le—er, Miss Hartley?” Through watering eyes, Lenora saw him glare at Mr. Nesbitt and wave him off. Then he was there, his face close to hers, his eyes tight with concern. And Lenora found she could not breathe for quite another reason.
“Miss Hartley choked on some punch. I was helping her to clear it.”
“Helping her? More like beating her to a bloody pulp.” He leaned even closer. So close Lenora could see the dark ring of indigo in his ice blue eyes. He was closer than he had been since their kiss. “Can you breathe?”
No.“Yes,” she croaked, wiping at her streaming eyes. “I’m fine, thank you.” And then, because she couldn’t stand to be this close to him and not throw herself into his arms, she took a hasty step back.
The worry that had softened his features faded away, to be replaced with a hard chill. “Yes, well, that’s…good.” He cleared his throat, his fingers twitching up toward his neckcloth before dropping back to his side. “If you’ll excuse me.” As he gave a small bow and made to turn away, Lenora did her best to ignore the desolation that swept over her.
“Just a moment, my boy,” Lady Tesh said, thwacking him on the arm with her fan. “You’ve got me curious. Where did you learn to dance like that?”
Lenora blanched. Peter managed to keep his countenance much better than she; there was hardly a twitch on his stony face. Except for his eyes, which flitted to her for the briefest of glances. It was barely noticeable, yet it sent a waterfall of memories washing over her: of darkness and heat, open mouths and desperate hands.
“I’ve picked up a few of the more refined arts here and there,” he mumbled.
“Where?” Mr. Nesbitt demanded. “I’ve known you for thirteen years, and can say with complete confidence that I’ve never witnessed you in any type of situation that required dancing.”
“My mother was my tutor,” Peter replied. A neat attempt at deflecting. And one that didn’t fool Mr. Nesbitt one bit if the predatory look on his face was any indication. Lady Tesh, too, seemed more intrigued than ever. Lenora could only be glad that Margery was off talking with a friend, for she didn’t need another pair of sharp eyes on them.
But Peter would not be able to deflect them forever. And if the increasing tension in his face was any indication, it would not take long for Mr. Nesbitt to push him right over the edge. Her body wound tight as a top, Lenora stepped between the two men. “I hate to break up your conversation, but Mr. Ashford has promised me the next set.”
Lady Tesh stared at her. “He has?”
“Yes.”
The viscountess turned to Peter. “You have promised Lenora the next dance?”
His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “Of course.”
Lady Tesh looked about to say something more. Blessedly the music started up. The perfect escape.
Too late, Lenora realized it was a waltz.
She clenched her hands about the empty cup, her mind whirling now that she had effectively backed herself into a corner. For she could not dance the waltz with him, even had she managed to teach him the steps. Which she most certainly had not. She shivered in remembrance.
“Peter, you know the waltz as well?” Lady Tesh demanded.
“Er…” Finally a reaction from the man. He cast her a panicked look.
“No,” Lenora cut in desperately, “he doesn’t. But he has promised to walk the perimeter of the room with me.”
She deposited the cup on a nearby table and, taking hold of Peter’s arm, pulled him through the thickening crowd.
***
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Lenora stayed silent, keeping her gaze forward. She had dropped his arm like a hot poker once a safe distance from Lady Tesh and Quincy. Now they walked side by side, not touching, following the wall of the long assembly hall. The heat of her called to him across the small space between them, and his fingers itched to find the small of her back, to guide her to an out-of-the-way place, to take her in his arms…
