Page 7 of Twice Upon a Midnight

Then he realized his hand still rested far too familiarly against her hip, his glove not tempering any of the softness of her gown beneath his touch. To have his hand on her in the darkness wasn’t at all proper, yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“Apologies. I didn’t see you in the shadows.” He quirked her a smile. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just a little jolted, that’s all.” Her voice lilted gently on the evening air. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He somehow found the restraint not to caress her side. “And where were you going, exactly?”

“Out.”

The simple but honest answer drew a low chuckle from him. “Me, too.” Reluctantly, he dropped his hand away, but instead of hurrying on as he should have, he lingered by leaning a shoulder against the stone wall beside them. “We seem to have found our destination at the exact same time.”

Her surprised expression melted into an amused smile. “Not so much a destination as an escape, to be honest.” She waved her hand in the direction of the house. “It’s a crush inside. I needed a moment to myself and thought I’d take a turn about the garden.”

“Then I’m sorry I ran into you and disturbed your peace.”A lie.He wasn’t the least bit sorry.

“The fault was mine.” She rubbed her shoulder where she’d smacked against his chest. “Next time I’ll find an unused room to hide inside instead of the garden.”

He shook his head. “And miss the moonlight and night-blooming jasmine? For that alone, I’d continue to take my chances in the garden, if I were you.”

The corners of her mouth curled into a teasing smile. “Very well, then. Blind collisions in the garden it is. The gentlemen will simply have to be wary.”

“Indeed,” he agreed with mock solemnity.

Her smile faded. She glanced back in the direction of the house, and her voice sounded a bit despondent when she said, “I suppose I should return to the party now. I hope you have a good rest of your evening.”

When she turned toward the house, a desperate urge to stop her seized him, and he couldn’t help but call after her—

“‘She walks in beauty like the night.’”

Byron’s words came easily to him. But then, his shophadprinted over a thousand copies of Byron’s collected poetry the previous year, and Spenser had made certain to secure an extra copy for himself. He might be nothing more to thetonthan a laborer with ink-stained hands, but he also possessed one of the largest personal libraries in the empire. There were some benefits to being a printer, after all.

The young woman stopped, but she didn’t turn to face him.

“‘Of cloudless climes and starry skies,’” he finished the couplet.

She paused, as if she knew she shouldn’t linger in the darkness with him. But then… “‘And all that’s best of dark and bright,’” she recited softly as she faced him, “‘meet in her aspect…’”

“‘And in her eyes.’”

She clasped her hands behind her back and returned, step by slow step. She eyed him curiously. “You appreciate Bryon.”

“I appreciate good poetry,” he clarified. “I don’t think anyone should appreciate Byron.”

A light laugh spilled from her and floated to him through the shadows. “Regardless, no gentleman has ever quoted poetry to me before.”

“Fools.” He shrugged. “Or maybe they’re just boring.”

Her eyes gleamed with amusement. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she dared to lean her own shoulder against the wall opposite him and mirror his devil-may-care posture. “But you’re not.”

“I might be. You don’t know. I might be the most boring man in London.”

“Doubtful. You’re already more interesting than half the men in attendance tonight, and I’ve only just met you.”

“If all it takes to capture your attention is running into you, then that’s a dubious honor, I must say.”

“Ah, but then you launched into compliments.”

“Did I?”