Page 4 of Seduction of a Widow

“A waltz.” Sir Stirling’s remark caught her off guard.

“Might I have this dance?” asked Mr. MacLaren.

Leslie started to say nae, you may not have this dance, and you know perfectly well why, but Alice cut in, and said, “The waltz is your favorite of all dances, Leslie. You need a partner worthy of you. Give this young man a whirl.” She grinned.

Leslie angled her head in Mr. MacLaren's direction. “Do you dance the waltz, Mr. MacLaren?”

He lifted a brow. “Quite well, ma'am.”

“There you have it,” Alice said. “Sir Stirling can sit and chat with me while you two dance.” She looked up at Sir Stirling expectantly.

He gave a slight bow. “I would be honored, my lady.”

Mr. MacLaren extended his hand toward her. She placed her hand in his and he held her steady as she rose. The pressure of his fingers on hers in the instant before he released her made her wonder what it would be like to have those fingers grasping the back of her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss. She repressed a shiver.

“Is anything wrong, my lady?” he asked.

Leslie shook her head. “Not a thing.”

He stared for a moment, and she thought she detected amusement in his eyes, but couldn't be sure. He was a cool character. He extended his hand and she placed hers atop the back of his hand. He led her toward the dance floor. By the time they reached the dancers, the waltz was in full swing. He surprised her by whirling her around to face him and stepping in between two couples, then twirling her so hard that her dress flared. The press of his leg against her inner thigh caused her mouth to go dry. Pure muscle. He dodged a couple while turning her in another tight circle.

She couldn't prevent a laugh.“I see you are, indeed, an excellent dancer.”

“My mother insisted upon lessons from the time I was ten.”

“Ten? You jest.”

His mouth ticked up with the hint of a rueful smile. “On my honor, I speak the truth. My mother believes that the making of a gentleman takes a lifetime of learning.”

“What say you, Mr. MacLaren? Was your mother right?”

He sidestepped a couple who came perilously close to them, then turned in time to the music, skirting the edge of the dance floor. “My mother is alive and well. I would never think to gainsay her. Mothers have a way of knowing such things even when very far away from their children.”

Leslie laughed again, as much for the straight-faced way in which he delivered this information, as the fact that she thought he actually believed it. “Your mother sounds like an interesting woman.”

His expression softened. “She is.”

He spoke the words with more fondness than was fashionable. That surprised her. This young man, so controlled, had a soft spot for his mama.

“What of you, my lady?” he asked. “What do you believe makes a man a gentleman?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not being impertinent with a lady.”

“I have a feeling that impertinence is something you know a great deal of.”

She lifted a brow. “That is something a gentleman would never point out.”

The rueful smile returned. “I imagine my mother is right then. Becoming a gentleman takes a lifetime of work. I beg you, do not tell her that I have failed so miserably.”

The man had a flare for drama. What an interesting contradiction.

Leslie met the gaze of Lady Handley as her partner whirled her past. Married eight years, Lady Handley was a woman dissatisfied with her situation. The disapproving look she affected was undone by the jealousy reflected in her eyes.

“I don't think Lady Handley cares for you,” Mr. MacLaren said.

“A gentleman wouldn't point that out, either,” she said.

“Perhaps you ought to give me lessons on how to be a gentleman. No doubt, my poor mother would be grateful for the help.”