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We went through the forms of the dance, stepping away from each other, marching down the line of dancers. He passed out of my sight. But in passing, I saw the look in his eyes as he gazed at me. In that look was something I hadn’t seen in the face of this paragon of power: curiosity.
At the end of the line I turned, facing him again. Normally, I went down the line slowly. I was a careful dancer. But he rushed towards me, so I had to follow. Grasping me by my arm, he whirled me around once again.
I met his curious gaze.
‘Why did you ask me to dance with you, Lord Dalgliesh?’
The question, uttered low but distinctly, was out of my mouth before I knew I had opened it. Some central, unchangeable, nosy part of me must have shoved it past my teeth in spite of the mesmerizing effects of his presence. It was good to know I was still myself somewhere in there.
We danced another turn.
‘Why on earth should I have a special reason?’ he enquired as we passed again. ‘Is not the pleasure of your company enough?’
‘Not really, no.’ And he actually gave a little laugh. It rang like bells, pleasant to the ear.
‘You do not think much of yourself?’
It’s not that. It’s just that I think you think a lot more of yourself than you do of me.
‘Oh please.’ I looked down, demurely. Tonight was play-acting night, after all. ‘I am only a simple gentry[37] girl, not such an exalted personage such as yourself, My Lord.’
He flashed his brilliant smile again and began pelting me with a hundred little compliments, all perfectly arranged to melt the heart of any maiden. The compliments themselves did not get to me. The skill which with they were delivered, on the other hand, did.
What does this bloody fellow want with me? He could have dozens of women mooning at his feet!
Of course, there was always the possibility that he had fallen madly in love with me at first sight. But that was the kind of thing Ella might have believed, not I. And even if he had, he’d better fall out of love again right speedily!
Slowly, the flow of niceties ebbed. We continued to dance, and I had to admit he was an excellent dancer. Lord Dalgliesh led in a way that made me not even feel I was being led: it was effortless, graceful, and enthralling. And that was exactly why I hated it. He didn’t make me feel like being led - but in fact I was, very skilfully. And I didn’t take kindly to people trying to fool me.
Oh really? a tiny voice inside me asked. Not even when it’s done as magnificently as this?
Finally, after three more turns and several more compliments, he got to the point. As we passed each other, he whispered:
‘I must make a confession, Miss Linton.’
‘Oh?’
He turned on the spot in a perfect pirouette. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me towards him, past him, and launched me into the movement alongside the other ladies. When I returned, he said in a low voice:
‘Yes. I did have a motive to dance with you, other than your charms. Although I assure you,’ he added, smiling again, ‘that no other motive would have been needed.’
I faked a smile back at him. Now we were talking business! ‘But there was one?’
Taking hold of my arm, he led me into another smooth turn.
‘Yes. I was curious. When we first met, you looked at me rather strangely. As if you expected to see somebody else. I am used to how people react around me, and your reaction was startlingly different. So, as I said, I am curious. What was going through your mind when you saw me?’
Hm… How about ‘Thank God, it’s not him!’?
I hesitated. But I had already fulfilled my quota of lies for the day. And anyway, why shouldn’t he know?
Fixing my gaze on his mesmerizing steel-blue eyes as the ballroom turned around us in a blur, I said:
‘Sir Philip hinted to us that we were going to meet a person of great importance at the ball. From what he said…I was expecting somebody else.’
‘Oh?’ One of his brows rose in interest. ‘Whom, if I may ask?’
I opened my mouth to speak.
