Page 7 of One Waltz with the Viscount

He paused for a moment, considering what it would be like to look in from the outside, to see the glamour and the splendour when you led a much less extravagant life.

‘I sound like a poor little rich boy, don’t I?’

She smiled at this, and he felt something stir inside him. She had a lovely smile. It was a little tentative, as if she were not used to smiling in public, but that made it all the more endearing.

‘Have you been to a ball like this before?’

‘No, never.’

‘Have you been to any ball?’

‘No.’

‘A dance at the local assembly rooms then?’

‘My mother never wanted us to attend. I realise now she was worried about the gossip. She was terrified of a possible scandal, I suppose. After everything that had happened to her it made her a little cautious. Selina sneaked out a few times, but I never did.’

‘So you have never danced a waltz before.’

‘I have learned the steps with Selina, but I have never danced anything with anyone other than my sister.’

Henry knew he should leave Miss Shepherd to her glass of champagne and her book, but he had no desire whatsoever to go back downstairs to the ball. Before he could stop himself, he stood and held out a hand.

‘Would you do me the honour of the next dance?’

She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head.

‘Here?’

‘There is ample space, we can hear the music through the balcony door and there is no one else watching. I do not like to boast, but I am an excellent dancer. You are in safe hands.’

She did not look convinced, but he didn’t waver, holding his hand out until she put the candle on the table, alongside her glass, and placed one delicate hand in his. She exhaled softly as he pulled her to him, her cheeks flushing.

As if it were a sign from heaven, the first few notes of a waltz floated up from the ballroom below.

‘Try to relax, Miss Shepherd. As I said, you are in safe hands.’ She was stiff, her posture erect and her shoulders tensed so much they were raised towards her ears. Slowly he coaxed her into a more natural position, before exerting just the right amount of pressure on her lower back to guide her in the right direction.

With the first step he felt his spirits lift a little. He had always enjoyed dancing, the art of anticipating your partner’s movements, two people moving as one for at least a short while. His late wife, Anne, had not ever wanted to dance. Much like Miss Shepherd, she had not had the privilege of a dance tutor, or the expectation that she would be able to dance perfectly by the time she attended her first ball. On the two occasions they had danced together she’d hated every minute, and he had been left feeling guilty for even suggesting it.

Miss Shepherd was hesitant at first, but as they spun, their bodies moving in unison, he saw a flicker of a smile on her face. And then, when he executed a rather flamboyant spin, she actually laughed in delight.

‘Stop trying to look at your feet,’ he said, catching her hand and placing it on his chest. ‘Feel the music in here, find your rhythm and stop thinking about it too much.’

‘Is that what you do?’ She was looking up at him, her green eyes glinting in the candlelight.

‘I have not danced for quite some time, but yes, I try not to think of each individual step.’

‘I cannot believe the much-esteemed Lord Routledge is not in demand at every ball he attends.’

‘You assume too much, Miss Shepherd,’ he said as he twirled her again. In the darkness of the library he was daring to hold her a little closer than would be acceptable on the dance floor downstairs, but there was no one there to raise a disapproving eyebrow.

‘You wish me to believe that you are not a man held in high esteem by the rest of society?’ She had a teasing note to her voice that Henry realised he rather liked. He felt happier than he had in a long time, hiding in the shadows with Miss Shepherd.

‘Certainly not by all society.’

‘Ah,’ she said, looking up at him appraisingly. ‘Let me guess. Your father? He is the one who disapproves of you?’

‘He does indeed.’