Only against her warm body did he realize how cold his isolation had been all these years.
Stirring in him, he recognized a feeling he had long buried. Something that looked like interest—that felt like…wanting. He had not felt like this in years, and he almost traced down the woman’s arm in curious exploration. But he could not let her go, still frozen and startled by being caught so off-guard.
He felt his frown soften as he gazed at her.
He cleared his throat.
And only when he pulled back did he notice that she wore a silver dress—one that almost matched the shade of his cravat perfectly.
“I am sorry for colliding with you,” he said, his voice hoarse. When had he last apologized to anyone? “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered, her voice timid, soft. “I am perfectly well.”
Hurriedly, he pulled her upright, and the spell broke. The sound of a waltz rushed back to him, and he felt the burn of a hundred stares into his back. He ignored them all.
“I was on my way to the garden,” the lady confessed.
“As was I,” he answered, “yet all I can think of now is to ask you for a dance.”
The woman blinked, her mouth parting. “I… Me, Your Grace? You wish to dance with… me?”
Why was that so confusing. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes. You. May I?”
He offered his hand after removing it from her arm.
The woman took it, still looking confused.
***
Amelia was still entirely confused as to why the Duke of Blackthorn of all men would notice her—and how fate had guided their feet towards one another, only to end in a collision right before their intended garden destination.
And now… now he wished to dance with her.
Nobody ever wished to dance with her.
Amelia couldn’t bring herself to meet her mother’s gaze, knowing it would reflect her own shock. She could not bring herself to glance at Cassandra, whom she perceived in her periphery, fearing that her countenance would betray an overwhelming jealousy. She dreaded the thought that such envy would be mirrored on the faces of every debutante surrounding her.
Instead, she only let the duke lead her onto the dance floor, her heart racing, and her mind whirling.Why me? she thought, and yet she could not stop the warmth through her chest. Would she be out of practice? Would people look and point at her?
Would Amelia be clumsy with two Seasons where her opportunities to dance had diminished progressively?
Yet as soon as she looked back at the duke, whose own brow twitched with uncertainty, she wondered if he was also having the same thoughts, and that settled her, somewhat. That someone so notorious and angrily confident as him might worry, as well.
After all, he had worn a look of intense displeasure upon arriving that night. It had, however, now been replaced by something softer.
The waltz began anew, and other couples dared not enter the floor yet, not as the duke took his first—and perhaps only—dance partner of the night. And how had it somehow been Amelia, the wallflower?
Clara will be beside herself when I tell her,Amelia thought.
All eyes were upon them, and she felt each gaze like a thousand needles. As if she were a delicate flower, overrun with thorns. As if she was a pin cushion—a very overcrowded pin cushion. The duke’s hand went to her waist, and Amelia flushed. A flutter went through her stomach, a menagerie of butterflies, at his touch. It had been so long since a gentleman had taken her in a dance so gently.
“I do hope we will not crash into one another during our dance,”she found herself saying.
“I am sure I can lead us well enough.”
His answer was curt but his voice wasn’t as gruff as she had overheard it being earlier. Rumors said he had a tongue sharper than a blade, and yet he spoke to her much softer.Why? Was it his own guilt for walking into her?
They began to move, starting with a grand sweep of the floor, as Amelia ran through the count of the dance,one, two, three, together. One, two, three, together.One, two, three, turn. Over and over, the waltz built around them, and she could not help but wonder how a man with such a fearsome reputation, and sharpness about him could dance so gracefully.
