Page 39 of A Symphony for the Earl

As he moved her in a circular path around a cluster of dancers, the net overlay of her skirt entwined his legs and brought her against him. She might be innocent, but through the light satin and gauze of her dress, Fiona realized his arousal had brushed her thighs.

Richard exhaled sharply. She had the outrageous impulse to press closer and looked up to meet his eyes. The slate-blue irises raked over her face, glittering with heat.

Her heart raced. “I think we…we should stop.” In truth, she didn’t know what to do.

“Yes, we should,” he said, a raw edge to his voice. “I should have stopped the minute I put my hand on your waist. Did you come to London planning to turn my well-ordered life askew, or is it by chance? It was dangerous to waltz with you tonight, but my judgment seems lacking where you’re concerned, Fiona.”

She stumbled, but his strong arms kept her upright. What was he referring to? She was the one off-balance since her meeting him—confused and plagued by uncertainty.

“You needn’t worry.” His even tone held a trace of irony. “I’ve recovered from my… enthusiasm.” They continued to dance, but he maintained a generous distance.

When the waltz ended, she was still tongue-tied. Richard executed a formal bow, which she answered with an unsteady curtsy. With no further conversation, he guided her back to Lady Amelia and strode off to the refreshment table.

Lady Amelia patted her arm. “Did you enjoy yourself, my dear? Richard is such an accomplished partner. He dwarfs most women, but you’re tall enough to complement him. I vow, the room was positively riveted.”

“Don’t you care to dance, Lady Amelia?”

“Oh, no. Nothing is quite so sad as a woman past her prime on the ballroom floor.”

Lady Amelia commented on the other dancers, but Fiona scarcely heard the words. What was behind Richard’s astonishing behavior? Was he attracted to her? As she moved through the evening, she was excruciatingly aware of him.

At one point, she was in the middle of a quadrille with Denys Spencer when she saw Richard with Mrs. Davenport. He seemed quite taken by a remark she made, and his lips curved in amusement, and a sudden flash of jealousy filled her. The voluptuous widow wore a pale-blue gown which suited her porcelain skin and perfect features, and Fiona disliked her intensely.

Denys followed her gaze. “Ah, the relentless Mrs. Davenport. Lovely, but a certain sharpness to her beauty, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied.

Denys chuckled. “Richard ended that dalliance quite some time ago, but the persistent widow has never lost hope of a reconciliation.”

“Is the earl prone to dalliances?”

They separated to promenade, then rejoined. “No more or less than any man of his position and vitality.”

Fiona digested this. She couldn’t take Richard’s provocative behavior seriously, as much as she wanted to respond. The art of flirtation was beyond her meager social skills.

She stepped up to meet the next partner in line, a florid, loudly dressed gentleman. They circled, palm to palm, then Fiona returned to Denys.

“You have known Lord Richard a long time, haven’t you, Mr. Spencer?”

“Denys, if you please. Yes, I have. We were at Eton together, then Cambridge—though he was two years older, we became fast friends. My parents died in a sailing accident, and the Merricks have treated me like family ever since.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your parents, Denys. We have something in common…my father appears to be lost at sea. But I hold out the hope that he will find his way home. We’re both fortunate to have people like the Merricks for friends.”

“That can be a two-edged sword.” He gave a wry smile, and his eyes drifted to Valentina, who danced with a distinguished man in uniform. The expression of longing on his handsome face was unmistakable.

Was it possible Denys Spencer had a tendre for Valentina? They were a perfect couple, both so amiable and caring. If Valentina returned his feelings, she would find a way to bring them together.

Fiona danced twice more, once with a handsome young man who ogled her the entire time, the other with Colonel Forester, an earlier partner of Valentina’s. The colonel was a skilled dancer and talked of his adventures in the Peninsular War, which were fascinating to hear. They continued to converse once the music ended until Richard interrupted to claim her for the last dance of the evening.

Fiona’s butterflies returned in full force, and her heart was in her throat as they took their places.

“Have you enjoyed your first ball, Fiona?” he asked politely. “We’ll be overwhelmed with calling cards from prospective suitors tomorrow. You must tell Mother if there is anyone you are interested in receiving.”

Was she expected to act as if nothing had occurred between them earlier? If Richard could, then so could she.

“I didn’t meet anyone I’d marry at first glance,” she replied lightly. “William Denton is still a desirable match, of course. I think we would suit famously.”

“You are trying to provoke me, but it won’t do. I’m very pleased with this evening. Did you know the beau monde are calling you and Valentina ‘ebony and ivory’? It’s ironic, considering your musical skills.”