He was a great dancing partner—she ought to give him that. He moved with grace and elegance, never stepping on the hem of her skirt or hitting her slippers with the tips of his shoes, as her former dancing partners had done.
He held her gently but firmly and was protective of her, making sure she could easily follow his wide strides. She was enjoying herself. A great dancing partner was the best way to savour a dance.
The tension left her shoulders, and as he made her twirl quickly without letting her trip, she couldn’t hold back a laugh.
He smiled back, a charming, warm smile she had no idea he could produce. Still, she wasn’t so easily fooled by good looks and dancing skills. He’d invited her to dance only to upset Papa, and she couldn’t overlook that.
“You stopped smiling,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned. “What is it?”
“I would be grateful if you would leave me out of your business quarrel with my father,” she said as they turned around.
“I don’t have any quarrel with your father. It’s him who does with me.”
“Is it possible to have a normal conversation with you?”
“Yes, by being honest.” He drew her closer, and his clean citrus scent engulfed her.
Another inch and she would be flush against him, and Papa would intervene.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never lied to you.”
“Did you know your father wasn’t visiting your brother the other day when I came calling on him?”
“What are you talking about?” She had to break eye contact with him to turn around under his arm. “Papa was in Greenford, as I told you.”
“No, he was in London.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Maybe he changed his plans at the last moment. Maybe he missed the train. I don’t know. What I know is that he told me he would be there. Is this why you asked me to dance? To interrogate me?”
“No.” He led her through a series of quick steps flawlessly. She was gliding over the polished floor; it was like flying.
Jane gave her a shocked stare as she danced past them.
Effie waited for him to say more, ignoring her friend. Of course, he didn’t say anything else. The more time she spent with him, the more similarities she found between him and cats.
“Then why did you ask me to dance?” she asked.
“Because I wanted to.”
“No, you wanted to annoy my father.”
He leant scandalously closer to whisper, “If I’d wanted to annoy your father, trust me, I would have found something more effective.”
Talking about honesty, she was more annoyed with herself for the little shiver his closeness and deep voice caused than with him. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t be used like a pawn between Papa and a grumpy marquess.
“I’m never sure if you mean what you say or if you only want to provoke me.” She huffed and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of a turn.
The quick stop broke his momentum and, since he was still holding her waist, he slid forwards. She tottered on her feet as well. Her elbow hit his abdomen, causing him to bend over in a deep bow. The impact did almost nothing to her balance, but he grimaced in pain and clutched a hand over the spot she’d hit.
He gritted his teeth, his cheeks paling. “Damn.”
“I’m so sorry.” Although she didn’t understand how a simple poke in the ribs could have hurt so much and brought him to swear. She’d barely touched him.
He straightened. The tendons of his neck stood out over the rim of his collar.
“It’s nothing.” His voice sounded strained as well.
“It can’t be nothing. You look in pain.”
As he removed his hand from his abdomen to take his handkerchief, she caught a glimpse of a blossoming red stain.
