Grace gazed into the mirror, but she didn’t look at herself. Instead, she stared hard at the reflection of a window, its curtains open to reveal dark panes of night. The view itself was of the mews.
None of this calmed her or helped her to make sense of the riot going on inside her mind or her body. Something had happened when she and Sebastian had danced, his arms around her, something that built upon the kiss they’d shared. He wasn’t merely a friend to her, not anymore. She desired him. The realization had made her flee the dance floor.
What the deuce am I supposed to do?
One thing she couldn’t do was stay in the retiring room all evening. Although the idea had merit . . .
Grace took a breath to gather her thoughts and calm her sensitized body. She rose, and, after handing the attending maid a coin, emerged from the retiring room. She took measured steps back toward the ballroom, the music growing louder and louder as she walked, and heat spilling out like its own tropical climate.
She paused at the side entrance to the ballroom. Dancers were going through the forms of a quadrille, moving in the patterns that had been ingrained in her since girlhood.
Her heart clutched. Mason and Sebastian stood together at one side of the ballroom, neither speaking, although it appeared a relatively friendly silence. Both of them looked in her direction.
Both men smiled and moved toward her. At the sight, the breath that she’d caught in the retiring room fled.
What woman wouldn’t adore being the object of two very handsome men’s attention? Who wouldn’t swoon with delight at such a prospect?
But the reality of her situation was far more complicated and confusing than delightful.
“I trust you’re feeling better,” Mason said with a small bow.
“Better?”
“You . . . ran off. Looking a mite feverish, in truth.” Mason tilted his head. “Some punch might revive you.” He took a step toward the refreshment table.
“Or a whiskey.” An inscrutable smile—the likes of which she’d never before seen him wear—curved Sebastian’s lips.
Her heart set up an unsteady rhythm as she contemplated his mouth.
Does he know? How he affects me? And what do I do about Mason?
Whiskey unquestionably sounded more tempting than punch, but she said, “Neither, thank you. I’m quite recovered. A momentary giddiness from the heat of the room.”
The quadrille came to an end, and the opening bars to a cotillion began. Mason turned toward her and held out his hand.
“Would you do me the honor of joining me in this dance?” He added, “If you are feeling well enough, of course.”
She stared at his hand. This was precisely what she’d wanted.
Her gaze went to Sebastian, standing close by. While he retained a slight smile, his eyes were cool, and the whole of his expression was inscrutable and she couldn’t tell from it if he wanted her for himself.
But they were friends only. He’d said so after they had kissed, and she feared the repercussions if she were to reveal to him that she wanted more from him than friendship.
“Delighted,” she said to Mason, and placed her hand atop his. Mason’s gloved hand beneath hers felt warm and steady.
She waited for her pulse to speed up or her mouth to go dry or some sign, any sign, that actually touching Mason moved her. But her body continued its normal functioning, and her feet were steady beneath her as he led her onto the dance floor.
It took the effort of an Amazon to resist looking back at Sebastian. She didn’t, but she sensed his gaze on her as she took her place for the cotillion.
She faced Mason, and he smiled charmingly at her while the other dancers moved into their positions. He truly was a very fine-looking man, and the intelligence and awareness in his eyes only heightened his attractiveness. And now, finally, she and Mason were about to dance with each other—the culmination of fantasies finally made reality.
The music began in earnest, and the dance commenced.
Seb’s work was done. He’d danced with Grace and now she danced with Fredericks. Deliberately, Seb avoided looking at the couple as they turned around the floor. Seeing her stare adoringly at Fredericks whilst the naturalist gazed at her with stars in his eyes wasn’t something Seb relished.