“Vastly.”
The gentleman’s smile returned. “I begin to think, Miss Eden, that I may be the luckiest man in the room. I had hoped merely to rest, and instead find myself quite unwilling to relinquish the company of such an enchanting lady.”
“Then you must allow me to repay the compliment and say that you are the most engaging partner I have had in some time,” she said, her voice softening further, the warmth in it deepening into insinuation. “I had all but given up on the evening, but you have revived my spirits, Mr. Hatcher.”
Smile broadening, Nora refused to look away from the gentleman, her eyes holding fast to his as she did her best to flirt despite never possessing much talent for it: one needn’t develop a skill when one’s surname purchased the attention of any gentleman she wished.
Rising in a smooth motion, Nora tucked away her novel and held out her hand. “Come, we must dance.”
The declaration hung between them, not quite a request, not quite a command, but something in between, offered with a confidence that fully expected to be followed. But for a long moment, Mr. Hatcher merely stared at her hand.
“I should hate to deprive you of your book,” he said, his tone light, though there was a trace of something else beneath it now, something more cautious.
“I assure you, it is a sacrifice I am quite willing to make,” Nora replied, her hand remaining extended.
Then he rose. “As you wish, Miss Eden.”
His hand closed about hers as he led her into the current, the music gathering them up as they slipped into a waltz. The movement settled quickly, his hold proper, his distance carefully maintained, every line of his posture in keeping with expectation.
But at the first turn, Nora stepped nearer.
The shift was slight, subtle enough that it might be dismissed by any who did not know better, yet it altered the space between them all the same, drawing them closer in a manner that may not be obvious to the onlookers but was felt keenly by the pair.
Mr. Hatcher’s steps remained steady and fluid, leading her through the dance with grace, but Nora felt his arms stiffen, and she swore his breath caught. However, he did not draw back. Holding his place, Mr. Hatcher adjusted, his hand remaining where it ought, his posture recovering its composure as the turn carried them onward.
And by the next measure, the hesitation had smoothed away—though his gaze darted to someone in the crowd behind her. It took a turn or two before Nora was positioned to spy the other Mr. Hatcher standing on the far edge of the space, his attention dropping away the moment he noticed her noticing him.
Yes, clearly something was afoot.
“My, you are a fine dancer, Mr. Hatcher,” said Nora. “I do not know if I have ever stood up with a better partner.”
“You are very generous, Miss Eden,” he returned, his tone easy, his smile coming without effort. “Though I suspect the credit lies more with my partner than my own skill.”
The exchange settled into an easy rhythm from there, one Mr. Hatcher knew well for he snatched it up like a drowning man tossed a rope. The gentleman’s replies came readily, shapedwith just enough wit to keep the conversation lively without ever pressing too far. Whatever uncertainty had flickered at the edges of his composure vanished as he moved with confidence, meeting her tone without hesitation, allowing the banter to unfold as naturally as the dance itself.
Yet Nora saw and felt the shift any time her attentions grew too pointed. A glance held just a fraction too long, her attention narrowing in a way that stripped the lightness from the flirtation to reveal something more deliberate in its place.
Mr. Hatcher appeared outwardly calm, but something in him tightened each time. It never lasted long, but the distinction remained clear; he eagerly accepted any light words and compliments, but drifting into more overt actions caused him to falter. Yes, this Mr. Hatcher was a flirt of the highest order, but anything more was unacceptable.
Nora stifled a laugh and focused on the conversation as it continued on safer ground, their words light once more, his responses as ready as before, the warmth in them undiminished. He smiled, he answered, he followed where she led without hesitation.
Until she did it again.
A glance held too long. A step that brought her nearer than the dance required. The faintest tilt of her head as she regarded him, her attention fixed wholly upon him in a way that left no room for the rest of the room. Again, that brief, involuntary tightening, as though he were caught unawares before recovering his composure.
And even when the dance ended, Mr. Hatcher did not relinquish his place at her side as they walked along the edge of the ballroom. How long was he willing to play this game? The question was more intriguing than Adèle’s adventure, for it was clear the novel would end with its heroine achieving her happy ending.
But Mr. Hatcher was a mystery.
“It is so warm,” Nora said at last, her tone light, though her gaze did not quite leave his. “I believe I should like a breath of air.”
Mr. Hatcher inclined his head at once, though there was the faintest pause before he offered his arm and guided her through the crush to the front doors, which led out onto the street. The press of bodies gave way to space, the music softening behind them as they stepped out onto the pavement, where the night air lay cool against her skin.
The park at the center of the square remained open for the guests to enjoy, and they moved along the gravel path at an easy pace. Within the enclosure, the air smelled faintly of damp leaves, crushed grass, and the sweetness of spring flowers, all softened by the cooler breath of evening. A tiny landscape trapped in the crush of the city.
The rain that afternoon had cleared the fog, allowing the faint glow of moonlight to peek above the rooftops that edged the square, and a carriage rolled past along one side, its lamps briefly flashing between the trees before passing into the city beyond. There were figures here and there, scattered along the park’s edge, but none near enough to note their conversation, and Nora couldn’t help chuckling about the odd turn: it wasn’t the usual way of things for a lady to be luring a gentleman into a secluded area during a ball.
“I must confess, Miss Eden,” he said after a moment, “this has been a most agreeable evening. I hadn’t expected to find such an engaging partner, but you have managed to make it memorable.”
