He appeared to be as surprised as she by the low huskiness in her voice. “Are you well, my lady?”
She nodded, straightening in her seat. “Yes, my lord. Of course I am.”
He glanced down at the torn pieces, then back to her face. “Unfortunate that your dance card is beyond repair. I had hoped you would grace me with this dance.”
Rose blinked at him. “This is a waltz.”
His expression was impassive. “Yes. I have it on good authority that you have waltzed at Almack’s, so all is well.”
“But it’s the last dance of the evening.”
“So I understand.”
“You do not have to do this.”
“Oh, but yes, I do.” He held out his hand. “Will you join me on the floor, Lady Rose?”
She glanced behind him at the orchestra, whose members were beginning to tune their instruments one last time. Near them, close to the French doors leading to a veranda, Robert stood, watching them. He nodded at her.
Thomas leaned over her, his voice even softer. “I promise no champagne will be required.”
Her eyes snapped back to his. “He told you.”
“Of course he did. We’re brothers. He wanted me to be aware of all the possible consequences of crossing you.”
Rose scowled. “You are both rotters.”
Thomas smiled. “Yes, but you are working on our reformation, if you remember.”
With a low growl, Rose stood. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“You will if you keep growling like that. It’s quite enticing.”
Thomas caught her hand before she could slap him, holding it firmly, kissing the tips of her gloved fingers as they curled around his hand.
Rose ignored the flutter that caused in her stomach, a sensation of butterflies trying to take flight. She pulled her hand away and tucked it in the bend of his arm. This time, Thomas led her straight to the other dancers, and they took up a position between two other couples. Then the first notes sounded, and Rose’s eyes widened. “It’s a Viennese waltz!” she hissed.
Thomas placed her hand on his shoulder and reached for her waist. “Relax. Watch my eyes. As long as you do not try to lead, we will be fine.”
The smooth but fast-paced three-quarters melody soared around them, and Thomas guided her into the first turn with ease. His lead was powerful, the pressure of his hand on her waist firm and unerring, the heat of it searing through the silk of her gown. His grip on her hand had the same control, pulling her into the steps as his hand on her waist pushed her through them. Their steps broadened as the music picked up speed, but his eyes never left hers and his command of her body never wavered. Rose’s heart raced with the sensuality of the dance—his closeness, his determined lead, his focus on her face—and she felt as if she were flying among the clouds. Her heels never touched the floor as she whirled through the steps on her toes, the step and exchange pattern seeming to lift her ever higher.
As the dance sped on, Thomas pulled her closer with each turn. Rose didn’t realize it at first, until their hips grazed each other, and a smile flitted across his face. Rose returned the smile, defiant in the light of his flirtatiousness. She gripped his hand tighter, and his eyes crinkled with delight. His fingers on her waist curled into her back, and his hand slid an inch lower, resting on the top of her hip.
They were courting scandal, but in that moment, Rose did not care. If this man wished to challenge her, she would meet him head on.
The music crescendoed, reaching its climax with an abrupt flourish of brass, and stopped. Thomas dropped her hand and stepped back, bowing. Rose curtsied on trembling legs, the completion of the dance leaving her with a sense of breathless loss. As she tried to discreetly pull air into her lungs, Thomas offered her his arm again, gesturing back toward the row of palms.
“I think,” she gasped, “I need lemonade.”
She felt his impish smile all the way to her toes. “You are quite the dance partner, Lady Rose,” he said.
“And you are quite the scoundrel, Lord Newbury. Now I know why some think the waltz too scandalous for innocent young women.”
“But quite enticing for those who are not quite so innocent, my lady.”
She glared at him, but couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of her eyes. “I’m sure you speak out of turn, sir, and of something you know little about.”
He chuckled as they paused at the refreshment table and she picked up a beverage. He watched her closely, his wordssotto voce. “I know that a woman who dances with that much passion will be a gift to her husband in other ways.”
