Page 60

The abrupt change of subject made Lizzie’s head spin in an instant. “I did not feel pretty that day,” she admitted with a sigh. When he did not answer immediately, she rushed on. “I feel quite passable tonight, though.” For the first time in her life.

His hand clasped her waist, drawing her up tightly against him. “You look more than passable. You’re the prettiest here.”

Lizzie almost gasped aloud to hear such an outrageous claim. She drew back her head to look at him quizzically. “You’re surely teasing me now.”

“Not a bit.”

She felt the caressing way his hand shifted across her back, his thumb stroking the indent at her waist. She felt lightheaded and curiously free to say or do anything. “Are we flirting?” she asked, as the thought suddenly occurred to her. “Only I don’t think anyone ever did that with me before, so I’m not certain.”

A curious expression swept over Benedict’s face. “I’m not sure if it counts as flirting when you’re married.”

“Oh,” she felt ridiculously disappointed, and even she could hear the wistfulness in her voice.

“Do you want me to flirt with you, Lizzie?” he asked in a low intimate tone. His breath against her ear made her shiver.

“Yes,” she admitted breathlessly. “I’d like to try it. Just this once.” He smiled, his eyes half-closed and glinting. It seemed to Lizzie that there was suddenly no one else in the whole tent. She stared up at Benedict, and the noise of the crowd faded into the background. “What are you thinking of at this moment?” she asked on impulse.

“I’m trying to imagine you in a chrysalis,” he admitted with a lazy grin.

Lizzie drew in a shocked breath. “Naked?” she asked in failing tones, glancing about them to make sure no one had overheard.

“Of course. It would be for an audience of one, mind you. I would not tolerate anyone else seeing such a sight.”

“That is why I do not think Mr. Wurtzel can be Ada Wurtzel’s husband,” Lizzie admitted. “For surely he would not relish seeing her on display for paying spectators.”

“Not all husbands are jealous,” Benedict answered with a shrug.

Lizzie cocked her head considering this and was jostled from behind by an unsteady couple ploughing into her. Benedict whisked her to the side, and a few heated words were exchanged. Lizzie noticed the other gentleman hastily owned he was at fault when he got a good look at Benedict.

“Do you want to carry on dancing?” her husband asked as the other couple retreated. Lizzie shook her head. “Another drink? Or an ice?” he offered.

“No, thank you.”

He gave her a quick, considering look. “Have you had enough? Shall we head back to the wagon?”

Lizzie nodded. “I think so, yes.”

Five minutes later, they were out in the cold night air. Lizzie had not brought her cloak, so Benedict removed his own jacket and draped it around her shoulders, his arm about her waist as he escorted her through the field.

“I had a lovely time,” she told him with a sigh. “I think I like dancing after all.”

“I’ve also had a change of heart,” Benedict admitted after a moment. “I usually sit the dances out to smoke instead.”

“Oh,” Lizzie was surprised. “But you do it so well!”

“You think so?” Lizzie nodded. “So do you,” he added lightly.

She shook her head. “I just followed your lead.”

“There’s still a knack to that,” he answered. “Some ladies trample your toes and stare at their feet the whole time, making a punishment of it rather than a pleasure.”

“Oh,” Lizzie answered feeling encouraged. Perhaps she was not so contemptible a partner after all. Then a thought occurred to her. “Are you still flirting?” she asked with misgiving.

Benedict laughed. “If you can’t tell, I must be either very good or very bad at it. One or the other.”

“I shan’t tell you which I think it is,” Lizzie retorted. “In case you grow quite puffed up with your own consequence!”

He squeezed her waist. “Let me carry you over the stile,” he said. “It’s muddy here. You’ll get your skirts dirty.”