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His left arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer to him, while the other gripped her hand, imposing them in a familiar waltz position. His eyes shined and softened, gazing into her with a feeling she couldn’t recognize, and he licked his lips delicately. He was truly a mystery.
“Don’t question it—simply imagine the music is still playing,” he whispered softly. “Continue dancing just as you were, and slowly, we’ll pick up the pace together.”
She obliged without question. The harmony continued its jingle through her mind, and she imagined she was at a ball, dancing with a handsome potential suitor at her debut, while the ton watched on from afar in envy. Her body touched against his own, her breasts tightly pressed against his torso. And just as he picked her up, a chuckle escaped her at the realization of what she was engaging in.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“This isn’t teaching me much about the pianoforte, I’m afraid. I shouldn’t be surprised, however.”
“Oh, but it is. We’ll get to the technical aspects of it soon; I believe this is a lot more entertaining.” He grinned.
“For once, I’ll have to agree with you.”
The silence took hold once more. Her eyes drifted from his eyes to his lips, reminiscing of the almost-kiss, deviously making her wonder how it would feel. When he wasn’t trying to infuriate her in creative ways, the Duke could be quite a charming man, she thought, as she loosened up more and more to his touch.
“Bloody hell!” Simon yelled out, letting go. His leg fell stiff, and he struggled to bend and hold it as he hissed piercingly.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Eloise stepped back to take a look, but he took hold of her shoulder to support his weight as he mumbled incoherently under his breath.
“It’s just a cramp, nothing to worry about. It’ll go away soon, I’m sure.”
“That won’t do.” She wrapped her arm around his torso, supporting his weight, as she helped him to the stool, hoping that sitting would miraculously heal it. “A warm bucket of water might help, shall I go bring it?”
“No, it’s all right—it’s been happening lately with the cold. I’ll give it—” he paused, wheezing, “five minutes.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
“Yes. Distract me. Let’s speak about anything but this. In fact, let’s get to know each other,” he quickly said. “Something, anything, easy question; what is your favorite color?”
“My favorite color? It’s red. Maroon red. Reminds me of the time when…” she paused, realizing how foolish she would probably sound continuing her train of thought.
“Reminds you of what? Go on, I’m curious now,” he asked boyishly.
“Okay fine, but no teasing,” she whined. Her mind stuttered for a moment as she tightly shut her eyes and forcibly finished her sentence. “Well…it was the color of the saddle, on the first horse I ever straddled.”
Simon chuckled at the idea of it, pressing a hand against his mouth as he struggled to hide his amusement. And in turn, Eloise slapped his leg teasingly.
“Ow, what was that for?” he replied, grimacing in pain, though her tiny palm could do little to harm him in any meaningful way.
She scoffed in turn. “I said no teasing. Anyhow, what about yourself?”
“Black.” He held the hems of his coat, almost as if he didn’t even need to be asked. “Next one…Why are you unmarried?”
“What?” she fumbled, “You can’t ask a Lady why she is unmarried.” Though, of course, he wouldn’t care, he didn’t care for the etiquettes of society; she was already growing used to that. “But the answer is simpler than you’d expect: I simply couldn’t find a suitor. I wanted to marry out of love, but I never found it.”
“Odd,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s odd you couldn’t find someone, I mean. I’ve been dragged to numerous debuts, and I’ve seen women less charming than you, have suitors chasing them from one end to another,” he said. “I’d assume with your beauty, you’d have experienced the same.”
Her face felt warm, and she was undoubtedly blushing at his comment. She felt shameless for falling for his petty compliment, but the times she had been called beautiful could be counted on one hand only.
“Thank you,” she said. “What about you, then?”
“It simply never happened.” He shrugged, his eyes darkening. She could tell he was hiding something as his usual self-assurance had suddenly shifted. “My turn…Why did you never learn how to play the pianoforte? I know every Lady goes through tutoring. How come it escaped you?”
“Well,” she crossed one leg over the other, “I always wanted to learn how to play, but I never had the chance because of—lack of time? Of course, as you’ve already surmised, I have a good enough reason to begin now.”
