“You are not as good at the waltz as I expected, sir,” she teased him. “Perhaps I should have givenyoulessons.”
“Perhaps you should have. It’s been almost a decade since I danced, remember? I’m still a bit rusty.”
“There was dancing at Verdun,” she pointed out.
“Only in the early years,” he said bitterly, “before everything lagged on and people began to feel hopeless.”
“And ran out of money to throw balls,” she added, her face clouding over. “Or could not get credit because their families could not be reached.”
“Exactly.”
It was enticing to have a person other than his male friends understand what he’d experienced. Ladies who flirted with him had no concept of it. Nor could he begin to explain it.
But he didn’t have to explain to Giselle. She understood it all.
“Surely you danced some in London,” she ventured.
“Not that much. Especially not the waltz. It’s too new, and some in society consider it scandalous, so those matrons won’t even allow it in their ballrooms.”
“How silly,” she said with a musical laugh. “Dances change. La Volte was considered utterly indecent a long time ago, but eventually it became acceptable, and now it’s passé.”
“I’ve never heard of it, so I’ll have to trust you on that.”
Shortly after, their dance ended, and he led her from the floor. As they were heading to the refreshments table, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face, and for a moment, he was sure it was Lily. But when he looked again, he didn’t see her.
Clearly, he was imagining things. Even if she had been invited, which she decidedly had not, she wouldn’t have come. Besides, he had left specific instructions to his servants not to admit her or her family or her husband if they should ever try to enter the estate proper.
After leaving Giselle’s side, he had to force himself to dance with any number of important village ladies. But once he entered into the spirit of the ball, he improved as he remembered more steps. Meanwhile, Giselle danced with young and old alike, including his brothers. Unable to dance, her mother spent the entire time conversing with a couple of French women who’d married détenus and moved to Bath.
By the time his second dance with Giselle arrived, he felt reasonably certain he could manage even a waltz. Fortunately, it was a reel, which he not only knew well, but meant plenty of time to chat as people moved down the line.
“Maman and I would like to go to Bath tomorrow,” she said.
“The rest of us would like to go with you this time.”
“Why? It’s very dull at the baths.”
“I’m well aware,” he said. “My mother used to go occasionally. But the boys have been clamoring to reacquaint themselves with the town, so I told them we could do so the next time you and your mother went.”
She smiled. “That would be lovely. And it would be nice to spend the day together.”
Thankfully, she had grown more comfortable with him, less caught up in remembering this was all a ruse. To be honest, it still didn’t feel like a ruse. It felt like the most wonderful night of his life since his return. He had custody of his brothers, two of whom were dancing with young misses themselves. He was master of his own property at last. And he had the woman of his dreams in his arms. She’d even commended him on his dancing at one point. Tonight, it felt as if nothing could possibly go wrong.
Then he spotted Lily. This time he knew it really was her.
His blood ran cold. Damn it all to hell. How the devil had she made it inside? Yet there she stood in the corner, watching him with a tense expression.
He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until Giselle said, “Who is that woman?”
Jerking his gaze back to her, he said dully, “Nobody. Someone who shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?” she asked. “She is glaring at me as if I am a witch.”
“That’s not you she’s glaring at,” he bit out. “That’s me.”
“But why?”
Good question. Why, indeed? She had wrongedhim, not the other way around.