Page 15 of A Game of Hearts

“I play a little,” she admitted. “Though not as well as Lady Beatrice.”

“Yet well enough to remember the waltz.”

He moved closer, and she caught that now-familiar scent of bergamot and cedar.

“It is a memorable piece.”

She kept her eyes on the keys, afraid of what he might see in her face if she looked up.

“Indeed.” He was beside her now, close enough that his coat sleeve brushed her shoulder. “Though perhaps not as memorable as dancing it.”

Her breath caught at the unevenness in his voice. Slowly, she turned to face him, and found his expression as unguarded as she had ever seen it.

“My Lord...”

“Nathaniel.” The word seemed to escape without his intention. “After dancing together so... intimately... might you not use my name? When we are private, at least?”

Private. The word seemed to echo in the quiet room. Emma suddenly realised that they were quite alone - unchaperoned - and that knowledge sent heat flooding through her.

“I do not think that would be proper.”

But she made no move to step away.

“No.” He reached up, brushing back a curl that had escaped during the dancing. “It would not.”

His fingers lingered against her cheek, and Emma felt the last of her resistance melting. Surely just this once, just for a moment, propriety might give way to...

“Emma? Did you find...” Lady Beatrice’s voice broke off as she entered the room. “Oh! I beg your pardon.”

Emma stepped back so quickly that she nearly stumbled. Lord Limnwood’s hand shot out to steady her, then dropped away as if burned.

“Lady Beatrice.” His voice was perfectly controlled again. “Your music was not here, I take it?”

“No, I... that is... I should go.”

“We all should.” Emma couldn’t look at him. “The others will be waiting for tea.”

She hurried from the room, her heart pounding. Behind her, she heard Lady Beatrice’s whispered ‘I’m so sorry!’ but couldn’t bring herself to respond.

What had she been thinking? One dance, a few kind words, and she had been ready to throw all propriety to the winds. Lord Limnwood had been right yesterday - she was a poor example indeed.

Yet she could still feel the ghost of his fingers against her cheek, still see that unguarded look in his eyes. Proper or not, something had changed between them.

She only hoped that they would both survive the consequences.

*****

The drawing room hummed with quiet conversation as footmen served tea. Emma sat with Lady Beatrice, both of them maintaining perfect composure while steadfastly avoiding any mention of what had nearly happened in the music room. But Emma could feel Lord Limnwood’s presence across the room like a physical thing, drawing her attention no matter how she tried to focus on her tea.

“I really am sorry,” Lady Beatrice whispered. “If I had known...”

“There was nothing to know.” Emma kept her voice equally low. “Nothing happened.”

“But something might have, mightn’t it?” Her friend’s eyes sparkled with suppressed excitement. “The way that he looked at you...”

“Beatrice, please.”

Emma glanced around anxiously, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. No one except Lady Anne, whose sharp gaze missed nothing.