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Gasps of admiration sounded from dozens of mouths as the people walked in, all craning their heads to look at the dome. Harold could see Alice ahead of him and had eyes only for her.
CHAPTER23
Alice made all the appropriate sounds as she was escorted into the ballroom on Rafe’s arm. She smiled and gaped and pointed as she took her place opposite him, along with all the other ladies and gentlemen who had paired up to dance. Rafe seemed distracted, not looking at her, but instead looking all around. Alice barely noticed however as she was doing the same thing.
This began as an exciting game. Evading the watchful eyes of my brother and sister in order to meet with a man that excited me. Now, it has become very real. Simon will challenge Harold if he believes me to be his next conquest. And Harold will kill him. My God, I could gain a husband and lose a brother. It must not happen!
The thought made her acutely conscious of the need to know where Harold and Simon were. She did not want them to bump into each other. There must be no opportunity for harsh words to be spoken. For circumstances to escalate beyond control. Simon appeared next to her, escorting a woman with auburn hair and a beauty mark on her right cheek.
“Sister, was your tour of Hastings’ remarkable Gallery enlightening?” Simon asked.
“It was. Rafe knows a great deal about art,” Alice replied smoothly, repeating the line that she had already discussed with Rafe and Angelo.
“I myself know little of art but it is an important part of one’s education, I believe,” Simon said. “Don’t you agree, Rafe?”
“What? Oh, yes. Absolutely. It is what distinguishes us from the more uncouth nations. Like the Americans,” Rafe replied.
“Alice has always had a strong interest in art. I’m sure she has mentioned it,” Simon said.
“Yes, indeed. She has.”
“An admirable quality in a modern gentlewoman, I find,” Simon replied.
He looked at the woman he had escorted into the line of dancers. “Don’t you agree, Leslie? Oh, my apologies. This is Lady Leslie Harris of Brompton Manor.”
He offered her introductions to Alice and Rafe.
“I quite agree, Viscount Lindley,” Leslie replied. “Though I know little of art myself, except for those paintings that I like. I would dearly love to know more about them.”
Alice knew what Simon was doing. It made her feel like a prime piece of horseflesh, being bartered over by the two men. Simon was selling her attributes to Rafe, emphasizing qualities that he thought Rafe would appreciate. She looked around again, uncomfortable with the conversation. It was then that she saw Harold. He was walking stiffly into a space under the dome, his arm extended for a middle-aged woman with dark hair and a pointed nose.
The space Harold and his partner settled on was a few yards from Alice, making her heart beat faster. Simon stood with his back to Harold, not yet seeing him.
Surely he cannot object to Harold standing near me while dancing with another woman. Simon, just be content that I am dancing with the man that you wish me to marry, and do not make a scene!
A pianoforte took up a melody, soon joined by other musicians in the orchestra that sat in the very center of the room. It was a waltz, which Alice had spent months assiduously learning in preparation for her debut. She and Rafe took up position, and Simon and Leslie did the same. It was then that Simon’s eyes drifted to Harold. Alice saw the widening of the eyes and the tightening of the lips from Simon. Harold did not look, for which Alice was grateful.
At least I will get to see him dance. Even if it is only in passing. I wonder what has made him give up his contempt for dancing?
Rafe danced woodenly, barely avoiding Alice’s feet and making her feel as though she were being yanked from one position to another. As she turned and spun across the floor in his arms, Harold appeared before her continually. He glided across the floor, his frame perfect, posture elegant and graceful. It seemed as though the woman he held was suspended from the ground and dancing on air. She smiled dreamily, though Harold’s face remained stonily set. Those eyes found Alice as they passed each other.
Sparks flew. Alice was surprised it was not obvious to everyone in the room. The friction between them was intense, eyes seeking each other, then holding for long enough to produce fire between them. Each connection barely lasted more than a couple of seconds but felt like an eternity. The music was beautiful, light, and fresh. The surroundings were celestial and Alice found herself dreaming that she was Harold’s partner.
She saw herself being waltzed as though it were no effort at all, gliding, swan-like across the floor. Her awareness of Rafe and his distracted clumsiness faded away. When the music came to an end, she was taken by surprise.
“I believed you a better dancer, Rafe,” Alice said, “you seemed distracted.”
Rafe gave a perfunctory nod and leaned closer to her. “All part of the performance, my dear. Your lover will, I’m sure, give you all the details.”
Then he was stepping away from her, bowing. In a louder voice, he said, “A pleasure, as always, Lady Hathway.”
Alice felt ice in her stomach at his first, hushed words.
My lover? What does he know? Was he listening at the keyhole when Harold and I were together? The rogue!
“Will you not share the next dance with my sister, Rafe?” Simon asked, having contrived to end his dance near to Alice.
“I must leave, my lord,” Rafe said. “Lady Hathway, if you will excuse me.”
