“If Miss Blackmore is willing,” she said.
“I am very willing,” Clara replied, rather too quickly.
Captain Harrow’s smile deepened. “Then I am more fortunate than I had any right to expect.”
He offered his arm. Clara placed her hand on it, then turned back at once.
“Aurelia, do not go far.”
“I shall remain exactly where propriety requires,” Aurelia assured her.
“Which means she will watch us like a hawk,” Clara told him in an undertone that was not nearly so low as she imagined.
“I should expect no less,” Captain Harrow answered. “A lady ought to be well defended.”
“That is very proper of you,” Aurelia commented, liking him even more now.
The music was already beginning. Clara took a step, then another, only to glance back one last time, her face alight with excitement.
“Do I look composed now?” she whispered.
“No,” Aurelia shook her head, although she was smiling.
“Excellent,” Clara whispered back, and was gone.
Aurelia watched them take their places in the set. Clara stood opposite the captain with such transparent delight that it was impossible not to smile. He bent his head to say something before the figures began. Clara laughed at once, and when the dance carried them apart and together again, they moved with an ease that made them look, to Aurelia’s wary eye, far too much like the opening of a fairy tale.
“Good heavens,” she murmured to herself.
Chapter 4
Clara danced very prettily. There was no denying it. Her steps were light and though she had all the freshness of a girl new to society, she possessed enough natural grace to make her eagerness appear charming rather than clumsy.
Captain Harrow, too, acquitted himself well. He danced with ease, smiled with moderation, and seemed to possess that most useful quality in a gentleman: an ability to attend to a young lady without appearing either absurdly devoted or insufferably pleased with himself.
Aurelia had not intended to approve of anybody so soon. It seemed careless. Yet Captain Harrow had so far shown none of the alarming symptoms common to men in ballrooms.
“They do seem determined to enjoy themselves, do they not?”
The voice came from beside her, low and touched with dry amusement.
Aurelia started, though only inwardly, and turned her head just enough to see that she was no longer alone. A gentleman stood a little to one side, far enough away to preserve politeness, near enough to make it plain that the remark had been intended for her and no one else.
She became suddenly aware of the breadth of him, and of the quiet certainty with which he occupied the small space beside her. The knowledge made her tighten the hold on her fan.
“For the youth of today,” he added, following her gaze toward the dancers, “happiness appears to come with remarkable ease.”
Aurelia stiffened at once. There was something in the tone that offended her before she had fully considered why. She drew herself up and kept her eyes on the dancers.
“The youth of today, sir?” she repeated. “You speak as if you had long since retired from all youthful feeling.”
“Have I betrayed myself as ancient?”
She turned then, prepared to find someone severe, perhaps gray, and certainly old enough to justify the observation. Instead, she found herself looking at a man so far removed from old and decrepit that for one absurd moment she forgot what she had intended to say.
He was handsome. Very handsome, in fact, though not in the soft or ornamental style that invited immediate confidence. His dark blonde hair was perfectly combed to the side, and his strikingly blue eyes bore the appearance of two shards of ice. His features were strong rather than delicate, and there wassomething in his countenance that made him more striking than a handsome man had any right to be. He was perhaps a little above thirty, broad-shouldered, and very well formed.
Aurelia recovered herself with as much dignity as she could.
