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Aurora had no idea what the men were supposed to resemble.
Harriet nudged her lightly with her hip. “Oh, Aurora. Do stop behaving like a priggish schoolmistress. Have you not ever…? No, I don’t suppose you ever have.”
Harriet and Justine had been her closest friends when they were children growing up in one of those elegant Mayfair squares only the wealthiest families could afford. She had not seen them in several years and was regretting her decision to renew their old acquaintance.
She drew in a breath as the man in question stopped before her. “Lady Aurora, may I have this dance?”
“You again,” she teased, smiling at Perin Marsh. How had he finessed an invitation? Despite his good looks and polished air, she did not think he had the social connections. No wonder Justine and Harriet had been behaving like peahens.
They pushed her into his arms before she could accept his request.
“I am so sorry,” she said with a gasp as her bodice collided with his hard-as-stone chest, and his muscled arms closed around her to hold her steady.
“It is one way to get better acquainted,” he said with wry humor.
She looked up at him, not knowing what to say.
“Since you are now in my arms,” he said with a gentle smile, “you may as well accept to dance with me.”
“I was not going to refuse. It is nice to see you again, Mr. Marsh. I cannot seem to stop tumbling into your arms.”
“I am not complaining.” He led her onto the dance floor.
She tried to appear unaffectedly casual when he placed an arm about her waist and drew her into position for the waltz. But she was terrible at hiding her feelings, tingling and blushing, unable to string two words together.
“I gather this is your first waltz,” he said, his gaze missing nothing of her struggles.
“No, just my first with you. Not that I have had much experience. Mostly, I dance with my uncles and cousins. Forgive me, I am not used to being in the arms of a man like you…well, as overwhelming as you. I promise, I am not usually this awkward.”
“You are perfect, and I mean it sincerely.” He took her hand and enveloped it in his.
There was something wonderfully protective in the way he held her. Would she feel like this in the arms of any other man?
The orchestra soon struck the first notes of the waltz. Couples began to move in time to the music. Mr. Marsh twirled her and guided her with a fluid ease. “You are an excellent dancer,” she remarked.
But she suspected this man was good at a great many things.
“You are easy to partner. You have a natural grace.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Now that is a big, fat lie. But thank you.”
In truth, he led her so masterfully, she felt as though they were dancing on clouds.
She caught him frowning as they finished their first turn. “How did you get mixed up with that unsavory lot?”
She glanced over at Harriet and Justine and saw they were standing with another of their childhood acquaintances, the Honorable Rodrick Fasswell, heir to Viscount Milne. He was known among their friends as the Dishonorable Rodrick Fasswell, for the man did nothing but drink, gamble, and seduce young ladies, as did most of his equally disreputable friends who were now gathering beside Harriet and Justine. “Childhood friends.”
And all of them were watching her.
Mr. Marsh was right.
She would be wise to distance herself from them.
“Watch out for Fasswell, in particular,” he said with an edge to his voice. “He has had his eye on you since you first walked in.”
“And you haven’t?”
He smiled wryly. “Guilty as charged.”
