She wore a sapphire blue evening gown, with matching gloves and delicate slippers. Her dress bared the creamy swell of her shoulders, her décolletage, and flattered her shape to its best advantage. Verity removed her hat and veil but kept them in her hand. “Ladies do tend to dance in these, you know, not trousers. I thought you would appreciate that bit of authenticity while we practice.”
Despite her attempt at levity, there was a tension in the air, the memory of their passionate kisses in his eyes. Verity fought the heat rising in her cheeks and moved further into the room.
“You are beautiful.” That was almost said with a reverent whisper.
Considerably shaken, she shifted away so he could not see her expression of similar want, for there could be no mistaking the provocative desire in his brilliant eyes. Verity made her way over to the sofa and lowered herself. Folding her arms demurely in her lap, she said, “Compliments should be elegantly expressed. Your utterance just now was filled with too much passion…and would likely perturb a young lady.”
James arched a brow. “I suspect you are not jesting.”
Verity grinned. “I am not.”
His penetrating gaze searched her face. “So a lady would prefer practiced flattery instead of genuine admiration.”
“Some.”
“What do you prefer?”
His question flustered Verity, and it was a full minute before she was able to answer him with some semblance of composure. “I’ve never given it much thought.”
His regard warmed with something teasing and tender. “Did you appreciate it when I told you just now, how exquisitely ravishing you are?”
She looked at him rather helplessly. “You said beautiful.”
“They hold the same meaning,” he said with a smile which crinkled the corner of his eyes.
“Yes,” she said with a touch of asperity. “My heart jerked with a thrill I have never experienced in my entire life.”
Verity bit back a smile as she realized, with satisfaction, that she had succeeded in discomfiting him. “Are you blushing, my lord?”
He scowled. “Of course not.”
Yet there was the slightest tinge of flush along his rugged cheekbones. The notion she could ruffle the feathers of a man so self-assured sent a dizzying surge of warmth through her veins. She flashed a mischievous smile at him, and murmured, “Another lesson: compliments must not be overly bold or familiar lest the line of propriety is breached. They must be tender, subtle, yet artful.”
“Lesson noted.”
He prowled over to her and held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”
She allowed him to pull her up and she walked beside him in silence as they made their way to his ballroom. The space echoed with emptiness, but the scent on lemon wax was redolent on the air. It was quite a large ballroom with two folding doors which could open up to the larger drawing room. Floor to ceiling windows dominated a large portion of the room, and the gold and blue striped wallpaper lent the room an air of elegance. The room was brightly lit with several lamps and candles. Verity could imagine a ball here, thousands of candles lit on the chandeliers, the scent of lavender and honeysuckle filling the lungs, the laughter and chatter, and the music.
Verity spun to face him, trying not to blush at the intent way he stared at her. He was unpardonable in his admiration, and it was as if he memorized everything about her. A pang tore through her heart. Was he too dreading the day their clandestine lessons would end?
“You are the most graceful man I know.”
“It is easy for me to deduce you socialize with few gentlemen.”
“The fluidity of your movements when you teach me to fight, your stylishness as you dart and shift, at times you mesmerize me how light you are on your feet, James. You should take that same skill and passion into dance.”
She sauntered over to him and placed the tip of her finger over his chest. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Feel the beat of the music here. You have the perfect elegance to dance the waltz.”
As if he could not help himself, he drew her close and spun her so she stood by his side. She turned her head to look at him wonderingly. “So you’ve had some lessons?” she asked archly.
“I admit it, I hired a tutor once.”
They took three steps forward, and then faced each other.
“Can you imagine the strains of the orchestra?” she hummed slightly. “Can you hear it?”
“I believe I can.”