Page 118 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

Florence watched from the doorway as Brennan attempted to guide Adeline through a reel. The viscountess was laughing so hard she could barely stand. Rochford looked on with an expression of fond resignation.

Tam had cornered Mr Lockwood and was communicating through a combination of gestures and facial expressions that seemed to transcend the barriers. Mr Lockwood was nodding thoughtfully, his hands moving in response.

Julian had taken over the battered piano in the corner and was playing a jaunty tune that had Duff and two other fighters attempting a jig. Clair clapped along, every line of her body displaying genuine delight.

Sylvia and Albert moved through the crowd, refilling glasses, directing servants, making sure no one went hungry. This was their world, the space between respectability and ruin.

Anthony, her brother, stood near the fireplace, deep in conversation with Dahlia. Her brother was nodding seriously, his usual stiffness softened by interest.

Two worlds, mingling. Not seamlessly. There were awkward moments, uncertain glances, the occasional collision, both literally and figuratively.

It was chaos. It was improbable. It was wonderful.

"Regretting it yet?"

Matthew appeared at her side, two glasses of champagne in hand. He offered her one.

"Regretting what?"

"Marrying a bastard prize fighter."

She took the champagne, smiling. "Not yet. You?"

"Not yet." He clinked his glass against hers. "Though I should have prohibited Brennan from dancing. He’s going to break that woman's toes."

"That woman is a viscountess."

"Then he's going to break a viscountess's toes."

Florence laughed. Light and free in a way she hadn't felt in years. Maybe ever.

Matthew was watching her. That look in his eyes again. The vulnerable one, the hopeful one.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just... you laughed."

"Is that so remarkable?"

"From you? Aye." He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want to hear that sound again."

Her heart clenched.

"That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said."

A grunt. "Don't get used to it. I've got a reputation to maintain."

She swatted his arm. He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Come dance with me."

"You dance?"

"No. But I'll step on your toes less than Brennan's stepping on the viscountess's."

"A low bar."

"I'm a man of modest ambitions."