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Besides, I felt safe, and as a woman prone to fits of nerves, I had grown accustomed to listening to the feelings deep within my body. My curiosity won out, and I crossed the room into the light of the small fire. Drat my passion for mystery novels—I could not leave this room without having my curiosity satiated.
His strong hand was still extended, and I placed mine into it, curling my bare fingers around his gloved hand. He looked into my eyes, and I blinked away my surprise at the subtle way he stole my breath.
If being alone with a man caused such heady sensations for everyone, it was no wonder young ladies were admonished to never find themselves in this situation.
I moved to tug my hand free, but he held fast. “Was this the hand you injured?”
I scoffed. I had been right not to trust him. “You cad. Release me at once.”
He looked at me with sincerity. “After I verify that you are unharmed. It is safe to say I am the cause of your injury, yes? I assume you were attempting to hide from me when you spilled the wax on your skin. By the by, where are your gloves?”
“In my reticule, not that it is any of your business,” I said through a blatantly fake smile. “I had not anticipated being interrupted during my perusal.”
He regarded me a moment longer before pulling my hand gently toward the fire. He turned my palm until he found the red mark over the back of my hand and sucked in a breath. His dark eyelashes fanned down, his attention lowered, and he ran a thumb gently around my injury, driving a shiver up my arm. “You must put some ointment on this straight away.”
“It looks worse than it feels.” I pulled my hand free, shaking away the feelings he infused in it. “My skin is pale, so the mark is bound to be more conspicuous.” I would not admit that it stung something fierce.
He cleared his throat and held his hands behind his back—a gracious gesture no doubt designed to put me at ease. “Your reason for escaping the ballroom?”
“I do not dance.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You do not enjoy dancing?”
“No, sir. It is as I said. I do not dance.”
He appeared to have trouble understanding me, his handsome countenance wrinkling in confusion. “Has no one taught you to dance?”
“I have taken lessons and know all the steps. I simply do not dance.”
“Hmm.” He looked to the fire and the small flames twirled in his eyes. His brow puckered, then cleared, and he looked at me. “You are not . . . talented at dancing?”
Was that his polite way of asking if I was awful at it? I did not wish to share my true reasons, so this would have to do. “I suppose not, no. I escaped onto the terrace, and in order to”—I cleared my throat and glanced away—“avoid a suitor, I slipped in here. When I saw the books, I could not help but tarry a little before returning to my mother.”
“You like to read.”
“Yes.”
He smiled broadly, and I closed my mouth. It was no wonder that insipid young miss had giggled at this man’s smile. It was irritatingly handsome.
He leaned forward a little as though he meant to impart a secret. “I do believe you feel for dancing the way I feel for books.”
He fell in my esteem at once. I lifted my eyebrows. “Then why, pray, have you escaped to a library?”
“Because this is my godmother’s house, and I knew the library would be empty.”
“You needed an empty room during a ball so you might take a nap? Was the dancing too wearing for you, sir?”
He chuckled a little, and a thrill shot through my chest. It was not an achievement to make this man chuckle, despite how my body had reacted. He was only a man.
“It was not the dancing from which I required a break. It was the ardent young misses.”
I recalled what he had said when he believed himself to be alone in the room. Lady? She was an absolute child. Had the poor man been set upon by an eager young woman fresh from the schoolroom? Surely, the woman I’d seen him giving the lemonade to had been seventeen or eighteen at least—old enough to wed.
“Were the misses too ardent or too young?”
He looked up sharply. “Both.”
I couldn’t fault him for that belief, for he appeared to be closer to thirty than twenty. I could only claim two and twenty years myself, but I felt much older most of the time—especially when surrounded by young girls masquerading as women.
