Page 26 of The Earl’s Hoyden

Hannah speared her friend with a hard, pointed look.

“Lord Brightstone doesn’t care to dance,” Hannah supplied.

“No,” Lord Brightstone said thoughtfully. “But perhaps now would be a decent time to refresh myself.”

Startled, Hannah blinked up at him.

He winked at her.

Blast him for being such a quick study.

He offered her his arm as people began to relocate to the ballroom. She accepted and slid her cold hand into the heat at the crook of his elbow. He was warm and strong, and she hated how much she wished she could relish that moment.

After all, she was only an instructor. Her role was a reminder she would do best to keep in the forefront.

He led her to the dance floor, and every female eye in the room followed them. They gazed upon Lord Brightstone with open interest and anticipation. And they watched her with a fiery hatred.

Little did they know she was no threat at all. She never was, and never would be, competition for any woman.

Lucien assumed his place in front of her. Too late, she realized exactly what they would be dancing, even as the opening cords strummed to life.

Of course, it had to be the waltz.

It had been an age since Lucien had danced. Truly, the act was one he did not relish. How he hated being put in a situation to have to drum up idle conversation for the amusement of one’s companion regardless of his lack of interest.

But then, he had never danced with Miss Bexley before.

He hadn’t realized the set would be the waltz when he’d led her to the dance floor but was grateful for it now. She looked lovely this evening in a violet silk gown with amethysts glittering from her slender throat. Her waist appeared impossibly slender and begged him to span it with his hands. Now would at least present an opportunity to hold her, to stare into the blue of her lovely eyes and speak more intimately than if they were taking a turn about the room.

She moved with a delicate grace, something he’d immediately noticed when she’d drifted across the floor with Lord Ranford.

Now she would be dancing with Lucien. An edge of pride inched his spine a little taller. From the side of the ballroom, Miss Bexley’s friends watched them.

Suddenly, he realized she likely had told them of his request for her help. While he shouldn’t care if her friends knew, there was a part of him that was embarrassed for others to know or should see him as pathetically as he’d revealed himself to be to Miss Bexley. It was ridiculous, of course. Why should he care what they thought of him when he was so open with discussing the matter with Miss Bexley?

“You needn’t worry about my telling them,” she replied under her breath as they stepped together and clasped hands overhead. “It is your secret to keep or share.”

“Was my concern so obvious?” He smiled in quiet thanks as he slipped his hand around her narrow waist. The fabric of her gown was cool and slick against his palms. It made him long to stroke his touch up her back to her skin to see if it was even smoother still.

“A little.” She winked, and her hand went to his waist as well, bringing them so close together that he could see every freckle that dusted the bridge of her pert nose.

That sweet, clean scent of her swept into his awareness and had him longing to be nearer still.

“I know I have a propensity to talk too much.” She gazed up at him as she spoke in a way that left him feeling like the only man in the entire world.

“I don’t mind it.”

She glanced away slightly as he began to guide them in a careful spin about the room. On either side of them, the world whirled by in a blur so that she was his only constant, his only focus that did not move.

“You dance very well.” She said it as though this was a shock to her.

“I told you I can dance, but that I don’t care to.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “And here I wore my most robust slippers in the anticipation that you’d be stomping on my feet all night.”

He glanced down at the black silk slippers that appeared anything but sturdy, careful not to upset their balance as their turning ceased. “I dare say those are about as appropriate for a night of accosted toes as those house slippers were for climbing fences.”

She laughed aloud. “Admittedly, I shouldn’t have been climbing your fence to begin with.”