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‘I assure you, I did. All those potential suitors you always denied having. Some of them were staring quite blatantly.’
‘They were probably thinking about how small I was.’
‘No.’ His tone shifted subtly. ‘They were thinking about how beautiful you are, Violet, and how I’m the luckiest man in the whole of Yorkshire, possibly all of England. You’re the only one still thinking about your size.’
She blushed at the compliment. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was the only one still preoccupied with her tiny size. She had detected a few looks of admiration, incredible as that still seemed.
‘I suppose I really can’t blame them for staring.’ His tone became teasing again. ‘I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes off you myself.’
‘Stop it!’ She laughed. ‘And don’t think I didn’t notice how some of the ladies were making eyes at you.’
‘Were they? If they were, then I certainly didn’t reciprocate.’
She gave a private smile. That was true. Engrossed as she’d been in greeting her guests, she’d still detected a few flirtatious advances towards her husband, all of which had been politely but firmly rebuffed.
‘I suppose we ought to go in?’ She glanced in the direction of the ballroom nervously.
‘Yes, but there’s no need to look so terrified. This is our ball in our house to celebrate our wedding. I’m on my best behaviour, you look elegant and enticing and...’ he waved a hand in the air ‘...ethereal. Why don’t we just go and enjoy ourselves?’
‘You’re right.’ She took a steadying breath. ‘It’s just...I want everything to be perfect.’
‘Which is why you’ve spent the last month making it so. You’ve spent so much time with Mrs Gargrave that I’ve become quite jealous. Though, of course, she adores you now, just like the rest of my staff.’ He heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘I’m really quite aggrieved to have been replaced in her affections.’
She grasped hold of his arm and tugged him unceremoniously in the direction of the ballroom. ‘You’re incorrigible, but if you’re trying to make me relax then it’s working. Thank you.’
‘Good. Just remember that everyone’s come to have a good time. To appease their curiosity about us, too, but mostly to enjoy themselves. Now...’ he stopped in the doorway and made an exaggerated bow ‘...shall we give them something memorable to look at?’
‘What do you mean?’ She felt a moment of panic. Everyone in the room was turning to look at them, bringing all her anxieties back with a vengeance.
‘Will you start the dancing with me, Violet?’
‘But...dancing?’ She glanced down at his leg. ‘Can you?’
‘I can shuffle. It might not be the most edifying spectacle, but I should be able to manage a couple of turns around the room at least.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I am. I’ve even been practising, mortifying as it was when Mrs Gargrave walked in on me.’
She had to stifle a laugh. ‘You should have asked her to partner you.’
‘I thought of it, but the poor woman looked horrified enough.’
‘Then you should have asked me.’
‘Ah, but I wanted to surprise you. Now, will you do me the honour?’
She nodded and let him lead her into the centre of the floor, vividly aware of the muscles of his arm bunching beneath her fingers as they walked. He must be nervous, too, she realised, although she guessed it was less due to the prospect of dancing than the room itself. She’d found him there that afternoon, sitting on the piano bench, looking around with such a sombre, almost mournful expression that she’d been half tempted to cancel the ball on the spot, but then he’d looked towards her and smiled, and the impulse had passed. This evening was as significant an event for him as it was for her, she’d realised, perhaps even more so since this was his family home, but it was also a necessary one. They were confronting their pasts together—and if her injured husband was brave enough to dance, then she could overcome her self-consciousness, too.
He made a gesture to the orchestra and then swung round to face her, placing one hand on the small of her back as the other clasped her gloved fingers. For a moment, her nerve failed her, as though she were back in this very ballroom five years before, dancing her first and only dance with this same man, feeling small and incredibly foolish. She was briefly tempted to run, but then her eyes met his and her spirits rallied again. He wasn’t the same man she’d danced with back then. He’d never been that man. She hadn’t known him at all five years ago, but she did now. Over the past month they’d spent living together, she’d come to know the real him—and she loved him.
She what?
She’d barely had a chance to acknowledge the thought before the music started and his grip on her hand tightened.
‘I requested a waltz...’ he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek ‘...but I’ll try not to lean on you too much. I’ve always said you make a handy walking stick.’
‘It’s all right.’ She forced her voice to remain calm despite the trembling sensation in her knees. ‘You can lean on me as much as you need.’
