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“Wonderful! Now that we are agreed you are in perfect health and happy to attend the ball, you may request a dance with me.”
Moreastonishment. As if he was waiting in line for the opportunity! As if he’d been skulking about the perimeter of the dance floor with the express hope of dancing with her! “I do beg your pardon, but—”
She gasped. “You don’t mean todecline, do you? Why, that iswonderful!” She laughed with delight. “No one ever declines an opportunity to dance with me. I think you must be the only gentleman present who would even dare! I can’t wait to write my sister and tell her.”
The sparkle in her eye was destroying him. “I think you are the only woman present who would ask a man to dance.”
“Really?” She glanced around the room, then leaned in close. “Is that peculiar?”
“All right,” he said, nodding. “I see what you’re doing.” She was teasing him.
“Is it improper? Audacious? Probably. I’m constantly amazed at what is considered improper and audacious when a woman is involved, but very matter of course if a man is involved. Have you ever noticed it is true? Oh, but you don’t want to talk about that—you’re too tired! Never mind, Your Grace. If you can’t abide to dance with me, I certainly won’t insist.”
He peered at her.
She smiled serenely. She was unperturbed. Just passing the time. Having a bit of a tête-à-tête. And in the meantime, people around them were straining their necks to hear every word.
He put out his hand. “I would be honored.”
“I really didn’t have that impression at all.”
“I must insist.”
She glanced up from his hand, and the sparkle in her eye had gone full dazzle. “I should check my dance card.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You think you’re doing me a kindness,” she said. “And you are! But not the one you think. Mr. Caster is headed in my direction like he’s leading a military charge uphill. Could you perhaps remain until Mr. Caster’s advance is thwarted? Perhaps in that time you might consider the dance—it is entirely possible that even you might enjoy it. I never understood people who don’t like to dance. Seems rather...boorish, doesn’t it?”
“Call me boorish all you like—I’ve been called far worse. Where is Mr. Caster?”
She glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward slightly to whisper, “Standing right behind you.” One of her brows arched in such a charming manner that Joshua was momentarily lost in it.
“Are you certain?” he whispered back. “Or is this your attempt to have your way?”
“Oh, I don’t have toattemptit, Your Grace—I generally get whatever I want. At least in England, I do. Admittedly, there have been times in Wesloria that there was nothing I could do to have my own way short of raising an army and storming the palace.”
He stared at her.
“Don’t look so alarmed. I wouldn’t have the slightest notion how to raise an army. But I will do you the honor of a dance, because now you’ve put us in this impossible situation and drawn the attention of everyone, and Mr. Caster is about to attack.”
“I would dearly love to argue that I’ve put us in any situation, but I don’t have the slightest idea how.”
“Splendid. We’ll dance!” She slipped her hand into his. Her entire body seemed to shimmer with utter delight, or maybe it was that tiara winking at him, but whatever it was, it seemed it was directly proportional to his discomfit.
He closed his fingers around a small, delicate gloved hand that felt like it couldn’t possibly belong to the undaunted woman smiling back at him. He escorted her to the middle of the dance floor as the musicians began the introduction to the next dance. He faced her and bowed. She curtsied gracefully in return and rose with an aggravatingly pert smile that not only vexed him, but reminded him that she was truly beautiful. He understood why people gathered around the dance floor were practically climbing on top of each other to get a closer look at her.
He took her hand again, then placed his other hand on her back. She tilted her head back, her hazel eyes locked on his. “Please don’t overtire yourself, Your Grace.”
His response to that was to twirl her around with the first notes of the waltz. The movement caught her off guard—she laughed gaily, then expertly fell into step with him.
Another small truth about him was that he was a fine dancer. When he was young, his mother had insisted on lesson after lesson for him and his brother. “I’ll not have my sons clumping about a dance floor like country squires,” she would say imperiously.
“You surprise me, Your Grace! I would not have guessed you an excellent dancer. I’m usually very good at predicting who will dance well and who won’t. Do you know how?”
“No.” He twirled her again, subtly pulling her body closer to his. She nimbly adapted to his quick step, light on her feet, her eyes still sparkling. The effect was intoxicating.
“It’s in the grip of my hand. A grip too tight, the less certain a gentleman is. Too loose, and he’s timid.”
