“Er…” Chloe said brightly.
She could dance; Bean had seen to that. The siblings occasionally danced with each other or at informal gatherings with middle-class friends. But she had never danced in a place like this. Never in front ofpeoplelike this. She wished Marjorie were here to sketch the moment so Chloe could remember exactly how she’d looked, the time she was treated like a lady.
“Take her out of my sight,” Tommy blustered in her guise as Great-Aunt Wynchester. “And keep her away from that Faircliffe fellow. He seems shifty.”
“He’s a duke, Aunt,” Chloe murmured, her pulse ticking faster. “And he’s coming this way.”
“Dukes are the dodgiest,” Tommy asserted with a dramatic sniff.
“I’m afraid I cannot be dodged at all this set,” came Faircliffe’s dry voice. “These figures require four partners.”
Which meant…of course it did. Faircliffe’s partner was Philippa York.
Chloe jerked her gaze back to Lord Southerby and allowed him to lead her onto the parquet.
Faircliffe couldn’t dance with her any other way, she reminded herself. People might think itmeantsomething.
Only a fool like her would want it to.
As the country-dance began, she forced herself to smile at the Earl of Southerby as she performed each step. He wasn’t the enemy. He was a kind gentleman, willing to stand up with her when no one else would. Even if he was no more romantically interested in Chloe than the Duke of Faircliffe was.
Not that Faircliffe was a monster, either. His carefully cultivated hauteur wasn’t the result of believing himself better than all others but of believing that if he wasn’t as perfect as possible, he risked his title, his reputation, and the happiness of his future children.
Who could argue with a motive like that?
Chloe’s birth parents hadn’t been able to offer that to her, but the Wynchester family more than made up for it. They didn’t have to try to be perfect. They loved each other just as they were.
She was a Wynchester, first and always. She would only give a second glance to a man willing to come intoherfold rather than one whose precious reputation would rip her from those who loved her.
The country-dance switched figures, and she suddenly found herself partnering with Faircliffe instead of Southerby.
Chloe and Faircliffe had never touched publicly. Her fingers trembled as she looped her arm through his. His heat was familiar now, his taste, his scent. All of it seemed bigger than before, including him. He was somehow taller, his shoulders wider, his arm firmer beneath her touch.
It was impossible to be this close without remembering their kiss. The knowledge of it surely showed on her face.
She felt naked before so many witnesses, as if they could see through the innocent dance steps to the carnal way her body reacted to his proximity, his touch, the flexing of his muscles. Even though she could not keep him, he felt as though he belonged to her. His tongue had been in her mouth, tasting her. She had done the same to him.
“I owe you an explanation about why you and I cannot…” he murmured. “But this ballroom is not the place.”
“Nowhere is.”
She did not want his explanation. It would burst the warm memory like a pin piercing a bubble. What had once glimmered like a rainbow would be gone without a trace.
Chloe did not want words he did not mean or promises he could not keep. She wanted his arms about her, his heart next to hers, his mouth claiming her one last time. But in seconds, the pattern of the country-dance would rip him away, sending him back to the woman he chose to give his life to.
There was nothing to do but dance and pretend the music gave her joy.
His gaze rose from her lips to her eyes. “If things were different…”
She shook her head.
Things weretoodifferent. He was the Duke of Faircliffe. She was a Wynchester. He was a member of Parliament. She was a recovering pickpocket who still visited her old orphanage bearing gifts for children who didn’t have a Bean of their own. Faircliffe’s good works took place in the House of Lords. He knew nothing of Chloe’s world, just as she did not belong in his.
“You don’t have to explain,” she said. “I understand.”
The music changed and she was back with Southerby. She hoped he did not notice her painful gazes over his shoulder.
Faircliffe and Philippa were an excellent match—if not by Chloe and Tommy’s preferences, then at least by the expectations of everyone else in this room.
