So Susanne declared, and so it was. Twenty minutes later, they entered the ballroom as any invited guest would. They descended to the receiving line and greeted host and hostess, plus the literal Belle of the ball. Giselle was introduced as Miss Wellard and everyone treated her as an invited guest, appropriate to be here among theton, and welcomed thanks to her beauty and her poise.
Susanne was as good as her word. Within a few minutes of gaining the ballroom, gentlemen lined up to not only sign Susanne’s dance card, but Giselle’s as well. If anyone had heard of her past nickname, no one seemed to remember it. And, best of all, as more people greeted her with neutral interest, she began to relax.
Jonathan watched as the shy girl of his memory blossomed into a mature woman who knew how to enjoy herself in august company. Thanks to Susanne’s help, he caught several moments of genuine laughter in the group. And Giselle’s amusement rang clear enough that he realized his mistake.
He hadn’t signed his name on her dance card. Which meant, damn it, he needed to scramble to get his name on there or he really would be left out.
He did as he promised. He maneuvered it such that the matrons gave their permission for her to dance the waltz. And then he hastily scrawled his name on not one, but two lines. He might have gone for the third, but she jerked her hand back.
“You cannot!” she hissed, and he knew she was right. He could not dance a third time with her without declaring theirengagement. And though he might have boldly taken that risk when they were sixteen, he could not do that to now.
They were ten years older. They were different people. And yet, when he took her into his arms for the first waltz, he felt like a boy again, taking his love into his arms for their very first kiss.
Chapter Nine
Their waltz wasdivine.
The moment Giselle stepped into his arms was the moment memories overcame her. She had practiced this dance with him, back behind the stable when they were young. She’d hummed while he mumbled one, two, three. It hadn’t taken long for their bodies to get control of the movements. And then they’d stopped speaking as the pattern became fluid, easy, and oh so sexy.
Back then, he’d drawn her closer, and she’d allowed it. Eventually, in a fit of giggly delight, he had grabbed her about the waist and swung her around until she was flying. She remembered squealing with delight. And when the spinning stopped, he drew her down his body inch by glorious inch until they were kissing.
Now when the strains of the music began, she looked into his eyes. “Do you remember?” she whispered.
“I remember,” he answered.
The orchestra began to play, and they were so much better than her awkward humming. He no longer needed to dip his chin with the rhythm. Instead, he stood tall, held her very properly, and moved with ease.
But her body tingled just as it had then. Tingles in her belly and breasts as she looked into his eyes.
“I cannot think of a happier memory,” she said.
“We were so young,” he said. “And so happy together.”
“Do you think we can find that again?”
“With someone else?”
She nodded.
“No. There is nothing like first love.”
She closed her eyes as she gave her body to the dance. He held her confidently, and she relied on him to lead. Glorious again, though without the spinning laughter or the kisses that followed.
And when the waltz ended, she stepped back from his arms. “Nothing like first love,” she echoed. “Or first heartbreak.”
She didn’t say the words to be cruel. She meant that first experiences cut deeply, the good and the bad. But she saw his gaze turn anguished.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t leave you because you can see ghosts.”
She tried to believe him. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“I ran from you because I told my father I was going to marry you. He swore to kill you first.”
She jolted. “What?”
