All of it performed beneath the full gaze of the ballroom.
But it was here, if one paid attention, that certain men began to calculate. To weigh their advantage. To decide whether a particular lady might be persuaded into greater liberties once the music ended.
“Compose yourself, my lady. You look positively undone to have been singled out by me.”
“That is not the word I would have used.”
The music began, and with the lightest pressure at her waist, Gideon set them into motion.
And as she sucked in a startled breath, she suddenly became very conscious of his scent. Clean linen. Starch. And beneath it, something subtler—steeped tea—earthy, dark, and quietly comforting, with just the slightest edge of bitterness.
It didn’t make her dizzy, but it made her feel heavier and lighter at the same time. Like her limbs, skin, even her lungs, felt a pull to be…
Closer.
Grands dieux. Good heavens.
This was how easily this dance could persuade. How proximity might blur judgment.
She had experienced giddiness—years ago, when she had first come out. A quickening. A bright, foolish curiosity.
But this?—
Was the same but different. Grounded.
Which made no sense at all.
The first turn was smooth and her feet moved easily, as though gravity were a mere suggestion. The second turn left her feeling even lighter.
She had meant to remain alert. Meant to keep her attention divided—half upon the steps, half upon the room.
Instead, the rhythm caught her.
The pressure at her waist altered just slightly, steadying rather than steering.
She had not realized she required steadying.
“You are distracted.” His low voice sounded close to her ear. “Should I be insulted?”
Beatrice lifted her gaze to his. “Why would you be insulted?”
He simply laughed, and they turned again.
“It’s not that I’m distracted, merely thinking,” she explained.
The chandeliers blurred, silk and satin sweeping across the floor. His hand remained precisely where it ought to be.
“What are you thinking about?”
She met his eyes, considering whether she wished to answer honestly. “Character,” she said eventually. “And how often people reveal it when they believe no one is looking.”
There was the smallest shift in his expression, neither mocking nor disturbed, but she could see that she now had his full attention.
“Many gentlemen,” she went on, “take advantage of the waltz.”
“Do they?”
“It is rarely obvious,” she continued, staring at the lapel of his jacket. “But one can tell.”
