Page 47

“Mr. Ross and Hannah,” Miss Sophia called. “Join hands and circle to the right.”

Samuel took Hannah’s hands in his. Instantly, an increased surge of awareness pulsed through him. He had come to expect it. Brace for it even. It happened every time they touched and was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Purposely avoiding meeting the young lady’s eyes, Samuel kept his gaze on the wall behind Hannah’s shoulder and concentrated on his footwork. Circle to the right, circle to the left, a half turn, allemande . . . One by one, he completed the required movements, and when he and Hannah returned to their assigned spot, Miss Sophia clapped.

“Well done, everyone,” she said. “Flawless footwork, Mr. Ross. I think we should end for the day at this triumphant moment. Once you can manage the steps with a smile on your face, you will have mastered the dance completely.”

Samuel had not realized he’d been frowning until her comment caused the expression to deepen.

At his side, Hannah laughed softly. “She’s correct, you know. You have learned the cotillion remarkably quickly.”

It was his reason for being here. He should have been thrilled at the praise, yet he was more concerned about the second portion of Miss Sophia’s statement. “I daresay she is also right about my dour countenance. I apologize. I did not mean for it to appear that I was not enjoying dancing with you.”

“Not at all.” Humor sparkled in her eyes. “Although, if you no longer feel the need to watch your feet, it is completely acceptable to relax.”

Acceptable? Perhaps. But also wholly unwise.

“I shall endeavor to do better.”

He expected her to smile in agreement or offer a polite response. Instead, she faced him with a puzzled expression. “Your ear,” she said. “I had not noticed it before now. Did you injure it?”

Instinctively, his left hand rose to the side of his head. He had become used to not touching the hair that covered his remaining nub of cartilage, but at some point during their dancing, his hair must have shifted.

“Yes.” He drew the errant locks back across his wound. “I am sorry if it shocked you.”

A hint of color rose on her cheeks. “Not in the slightest. But it is I who should apologize. I did not mean to discomfit you by commenting on it.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I am well used to it. But I realize it is distasteful to look upon, and its reason for being is even more unpleasant.”

“Will you tell me how it happened?”

His brows came together. Hannah’s conduct when she’d been held hostage by Grimsby had set her apart as a young lady of unusual fortitude. And though she was by far the loveliest lady of his acquaintance, he knew full well that she was no wilting flower. He admired that about her. Truth be told, he admired everything about her. Regardless of her uncommon mettle, however, he doubted he should be recounting gruesome battle experiences with her.

“It is not an enjoyable tale,” he said.

“The experience had great impact upon you,” she guessed.

He nodded. “It changed my life.”

“Then unless it is too distressing to recount, I would very much like to hear it.”

Samuel’s thoughts flew back to the terror and accompanying horror of that last battle. No matter her desire to understand, Hannah should never hear the whole of it. Some things were best left unsaid. “I am willing to share my part of the story,” he said.

The concern in her countenance eased, and she glanced around the room. At some point during their conversation, the footman and Hannah’s sisters had left. Only Fanny remained, standing vigil in the corner.

“Come.” Hannah crossed to the sofa the servants had pushed to one side to accommodate their dancing. “Fanny will not sit unless we do.”

It was an odd thing to say, but Samuel followed Hannah’s lead and claimed a spot at the other end of the sofa.

When they were both situated, with a full arm’s length between them, Hannah called out to her maid. “Fanny, would you like to rest your feet and enjoy some quiet again for a few minutes?”

The girl’s answering smile was instant. “Yes, miss.”

“I shall let you know when to unplug your ears.”

Fanny dropped onto the nearest wooden chair and pushed her fingers into her ears. “Very good, miss.”

Samuel fought back a chuckle. “Does she do this kind of thing often?”