Three heads bobbed, and Harriet watched Lord Spenser walk to the refreshment room. He was quite handsome, with his black hair and expressive brown eyes, and Harriet wondered if he thought of Miss Weston as more than a dance partner. He seemed awfully quick to disavow any knowledge of the young lady’s activities, but Harriet watched him as he walked looking around the room, possibly looking for her. She had a feeling he liked Miss Weston more than he wanted to confess.
The orchestra was warming up, and as the first strains of a waltz began to play and a few couples started onto the floor, a sudden hush fell over the Assembly Room. Even the orchestra paused as people parted to let a lone figure walk to the middle of the dance floor.
Harriet’s eyes widened when she saw who it was: the man everyone said never ventured from his manor house. Her breath caught as she stared at Lord Hartley—he was magnificent in hisblack evening finery. His golden-brown hair shone where it lay against his shoulders. Only a white cravat with an emerald stick pin broke up the severity of his dress, but it suited him perfectly. She’d never seen anyone look so handsome and severe at the same time.
No one said a word. It was as if time stood still; all conversations had ceased, and you could hear a pin drop. There was no way she’d let this opportunity to be in his company again pass her by. She stood, smoothed down her dress, and began to walk to the center of the dance floor. Heads swiveled left and right as the other attendees watched her progress to him, but Harriet only saw him—a tall, beautiful beast of a man. His gaze speared her with such intensity that she seemed to walk to him as if under a spell, her attraction to him was so great.
She fell into a deep curtsey in front of him. “My lord, I believe you promised this dance to me,” she said, straightening and staring boldly into his intense green eyes.
He never said a word but lifted up her hand and bowed over it. The orchestra started playing again. He pulled her into his arms and led her in a waltz that had her enthralled. She’d never felt like this before—so mesmerized by this enigmatic man.
Could he tell how fast her heart was beating?
His gaze never left her face, and he appeared to care very little that they were the lone dancers on the floor. She dared not say a word lest the spell be broken. Being in his strong arms made her feel like she floating on air. Did her feet even touch the floor? He was an elegant and accomplished dancer, and as they had the whole dance floor to themselves, he whirled her around with such expertise that she thought every waltz going forward would forever be ruined by his mastery of the dance.
Butterflies roiled around her insides. She wanted time to stand still so she could stay in his embrace forever.
When the music finally stopped, Harriet held her breath.
Would he finally talk to her? Acknowledge the dance and their connection?
Could she dare to hope that he would join their table, especially with his friend Lord Spenser in attendance this evening?
Unfortunately, none of that happened.
Hartley bowed over her hand once again, turned on his heel, and strode out of the Assembly Room like a king who had paid homage to his subjects. She stood still as everyone watched the Earl of Hartley depart as quickly as he’d entered. As soon as he was gone, the whole room erupted in a cacophony of voices, all discussing what had just occurred.
She didn’t hear a word, still rooted in place by what had just happened, until Lord Spenser appeared by her side. “My lady, I do believe this dance is mine.”
That seemed to break the enchanted spell she was under. She looked at Lord Spenser and smiled. “So it is, my lord.”
As they lined up for a country reel along with the other dancers, he whispered in her ear. “Thank you for your kindness, my lady.”
Harriet nodded, not bothering to explain that her dancing with the Earl of Hartley had nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with the man himself. She was hard-pressed to admit, even to herself, that if she would ever consider marriage—which she vowed she would never do—it would be only to the man who’d left as silently as he’d arrived.
She’d never seen anyone like him before—so majestic in his sternness and yet so gentle as he held her and whirled her around the floor.
She wanted to run out the door after him but knew she’d caused enough scandal for one evening. It would not do to embarrass her mother or grandmother any more than she hadalready, so she smiled and danced with Lord Spenser, all the while wondering when she would see the Earl of Hartley again.
Because the one thing she knew was that she’d make sure she saw him again.
Chapter 4
Hartley stalked out of theAssembly Room, not bothering to acknowledge anyone along the way as every guest in the place gawked at him. Let them stare—he was on a mission. His long strides ate up the room quickly, and he was soon at the door. He wanted to turn around and see her once more, but he knew he was at the edge of his self-control. What had he been thinking coming here? Even though he bought a subscription to the Assembly Room each year, he had rarely attended any of the activities. He didn’t like crowds or loud noises, and the dances at the Assembly Room had both. His breath came in panicky puffs—in and out, in and out. It was only by force of will that he kept the panic from overwhelming him. He retrieved Zeus from where he’d tied the horse outside, vaulted into the saddle, and rode away like a dozen demons were on his heels.
Perhaps they were, in the shape of a petite young woman with blue-gray eyes, glossy black hair, and curves a man would die for.
He’d thought if he confronted the chit in a public place, he’d realize she was like all the other young ladies in his past and would be horrified by his ruined face and turn away from him. Then he could just forget her and continue with his solitary existence. Instead, she’d boldly walked to him, demanding a dance. No one dared to demand anything from him, but she wasn’t the least bit scared of him. He almost smiled at her feisty ways...almost.
The minute he took her in his arms, something happened that he couldn’t explain. He felt lighter than he had in years.She’d somehow banished the darkness surrounding him, if only for a few moments, as he concentrated on the dance, letting everything else fade into the background. There was no noise save the orchestra as the steps to the waltz became second nature to him once again. She was heaven on earth as he twirled with her around the floor. Instead of exorcising her from his mind, she only seemed to burrow deeper under his skin.
This would not do.
She had to leave Bath immediately, although he didn’t actually know who she was. Before she stood, she’d been seated at a table with the Marchioness of Dalling. Was the raven-haired beauty related to the marchioness? He still didn’t know her name and hadn’t bothered to ask because he’d believed he would only see her this one time before banishing her from his thoughts forever.
How wrong he was.
There would be no banishing of the memory of her boldly walking to him, her hips swaying in an exotic rhythm while the rest of the patrons seemed frozen in time. Did she truly want to know him, or was it merely a way for her to exercise more of the “wild” ways she’d confessed to him earlier in the meadow? But he didn’t think she came to him on a whim, especially not when he thought of her intense stare when she demanded the dance. Her intensity had nearly matched his own. Oh yes, she was a force to be reckoned with, and he had no idea how he’d handle her in the future. Was there even a future to handle?
