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“The same to you.” They walked to the door of his room. “Promise me that you will save me a dance tonight, for I know you are having your own dance in the servants’ hall.”
“That would be most enjoyable.”
“Good.” Then feeling especially giddy, Hawk offered Mrs. Peters his crooked arm. “Allow me to escort you.” Her smile of pleasure was all the thanks he needed. Perhaps he could, indeed, step into a future tonight he hadn’t yet dared to dream.
The gay atmosphere in the ballroom immediately encompassed him as he entered. Scents of pomades, perfumes, and powders competed with the stronger fragrances of pine boughs and clove-studded oranges. Conversation buzzed through the air, punctuated occasionally by laughter and other sounds of delight. Through the crush of people on the dance floor, he was given peeks of the other side of the room, but as of yet, he’d been unsuccessful in finding Belle.
That was no surprise, for her event was a rousing success. It spoke to either her popularity or her kindness throughout the community and area at large, and he couldn’t be more proud. Truly, the woman had made a distinct impression, and she no doubt would wherever she went. He certainly couldn’t evict her from his mind.
And neither did he want to. In all honesty, he wanted to let himself complete that fall, become so wrapped up in her that he forgot everything else for a time. For tonight, he would set aside the mission in order to concentrate on her. Somehow, both halves of his life would need to fit together; he just didn’t know how yet.
Then the country reel in progress ended and the crowds shifted. Through the glittering and colorful fabrics of the ladies’ gowns, his gaze landed on Belle, and he completely forgot how to breathe as he stared.
“Bloody hell she’s amazing,” he whispered to no one in particular. When she spied him, she raised a gloved hand in greeting and started his way.
Her gown of red velvet completely captivated the eye. The low, square bodice as well as the off-the-shoulder sleeves were lined with the most delicate of ivory lace, which only served to draw the eye to her spectacular décolletage. Short sleeves were bunched up and decorated with more lace and pearls. Pinpoints of glitter glimmered in her upswept, wheat-blonde hair, and the closer she came, he realized they were jewel-tipped hair pins. Pearl earbobs jiggled at her lobes. It was her only concession to jewelry, which put the woman herself as the focal point in the gown.
And never had he seen a more magnificent lady.
Finally, he gained control over his faculties as she halted in front of him. “If I thought you were beautiful before, I must surely have been blind, for tonight, you have exceeded that prior statement and transcended into the heavens. You are Christmas in crimson.”
“Do hush.” A pretty blush stained her cheeks while pleasure lit her lake blue eyes. “I have waited all year to wear this gown, and from the look on your face, it was well worth it.” Briefly, she touched his arm. “You are quite handsome tonight, Montague. I especially appreciate the trouble you went through for the waistcoat.”
“It was a gift. Otherwise, I would have come sorely underdressed for such a festive occasion and you would have had to see a plain gray one.” Once again, he thanked the powers-that-be for the kindness of the Ravenscroft staff.
“You are Christmas personified.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “It is a pity we are in a room full of people else I would press my advantage of being the hostess tonight.”
Oh, God.
“The night is still young.” He brought one of her hands to his lips, turned it over, and then placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Damned gloves. “You, my dear, are the centerpiece of the evening, and I’m of a mind to pick a fight with any man who thinks to dance with you who is not me.” When she purred her approval, the sound went straight to his stones. “Beyond that, your skill and talent with the decorations is unsurpassed. The ballroom is a veritable holiday bower.”
“I am quite pleased with it.”
The moment Belle smiled, he was lost in the glory that was her. Those sparkling eyes, the rose-pink lips curved with amusement, the way she held his hand all worked at his undoing, and he knew beyond a doubt that not only had he completed the fall, but that he was tip over tail and fully in love with the widow. No matter how impossible it sounded and after only a handful of days, he’d done the unthinkable and let a woman sneak under his skin.
What was more, he didn’t mind, but there was one tiny fly in the ointment. Was he enough? Would he be what she might want in a second marriage? She certainly hadn’t called a halt to their faux engagement, but she had asked him twice what he intended once his mission was completed. Did that mean she was interested in pursuing a relationship?
“Hawk?”
“Hmm?” Wrenching himself from his thoughts, he focused back on her and the image of Christmas she represented.
“You are scowling at me. Is all well?” Her hand trembled in his.
“Yes, of course it is. I merely was caught up in woolgathering.” Once more, he brought her hand to his lips, and when couples began assembling on the dance floor around them, he grinned. “Would you care to join me in this set?”
One of her eyebrows lifted. “I wasn’t aware you enjoyed that sort of thing.”
“I don’t know if I do or not, for I haven’t indulged nearly enough to say, but I am willing to give it a go while partnering my lovely fiancée.” Knots of worry pulled in his belly. This would be the first real test of his new skills, and he hoped to God he would make Mrs. Peters proud. He tightened his hold on her hand. “Somehow, I believe that will make the difference.”
Her expression softened. “Careful. That charm will land you either into trouble or have the eligible ladies of the area lining up to dance with you.”
“My dear, tonight, there is only one woman I am interested in.” And wonder of wonders, when the string quartet played a few test notes, he recognized the song as that of a Continental waltz. Daring much, he tugged her a tiny bit closer to his body. “There is nothing in the rules of polite society that forbids a man from dancing as many sets as he wishes with his fiancée.” The warmth of her seeped into his gloved fingers from the small of her back.
“You are doing it up much too brown, aren’t you?” she whispered as she laid her hand on his shoulder. “Philip is not in the room presently.”
“Quite frankly, your brother-in-law can go hang. I care not what he thinks of me or the nature of our relationship.” Then the first strains of the waltz floated into the air, and he led them into the opening steps.
Halfway through the first circuit of the room, Hawk was completely drunk on her. Everything faded away except the sound of the string instruments and the woman in his arms. With every turn on the floor, her skirting touched his legs, and each time he gave her a twirl, the soft fabric twisted about his ankles. When she laughed with enjoyment, the sound reverberated in his chest and worked to further besot him. He tugged her a little closer until her breasts brushed his chest. With each new turn and twirl, when he had her back into his arms, he resituated her closer still until every part of him moved in conjunction with every part of her in a seamless way as if they were connected by invisible string.
