"In the meantime, we'll leave them alone together as much as possible and hope that they'll be doing what we're going to be doing every chance we get." He leered at her and waggled his eyebrows.
Lady Dunbridge laughed.
"I hope you've had enough of your dry spell, Henrietta," he continued, "because I have lots of ideas to inspire passion and I mean to try them all out on you."
"Just be prepared, Lord Mayhew," she teased, "for I have a few ideas of my own…"
* * *
Chapter Nineteen
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A great flame follows a little spark.
— Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321
"Lord Rob and your aunt seem to be getting along quite famously," Jarrod said, nodding at Lord Mayhew and Lady Dunbridge standing by the dance floor as he and Sarah waited to negotiate the dance steps of the quadrille. "For a couple recently met."
"They're not recently met," Sarah told him, straining to get a good look at Lord Mayhew. "They're renewing an old friendship. Like us."
"Heaven help Lord Rob if that's what they're doing," Jarrod murmured.
"What did you think we were doing?" she asked. "Besides dancing, of course?"
"I'm not certain," he admitted, eyeing her warily. "It looks as if we're only dancing. And it feels as if we're only dancing but I know there's something more. I know I'll be called upon to pay the piper."
"You may relax, Jarrod," Sarah said pertly. "We're only dancing. And it isn't costing you a penny."
"That's what you say, but I keep waiting for you to do something outrageous."
"Such as?"
"Demand another lesson."
"In what?" Sarah opened her eyes wide in a show of innocence.
"Kissing. Seduction. The art of slipping out of a hot, overcrowded ballroom and into the cool night air…" He grimaced. "I don't know. Something outrageous."
"Perhaps I've decided to spare you the agony," Sarah told him. "Perhaps I've decided to let someone else further my education." She crossed her fingers as she stretched the truth, then hid her hand in the folds of her skirt so he couldn't see it.
"You certainly dressed for the occasion." He glared down at her bosom. "Tell me, have you the modesty to wear a petticoat beneath it?"
Sarah frowned. So they were back to that again. "How gentlemanly of you to ask!"
He wasn't quite without manners. The tips of his ears turned red as Jarrod had the grace to blush at his own audacity. That was not the sort of question a gentleman generally asked a lady — especially a virginal young lady — in the midst of a ball.
"Tell me, Jays, what is it about my gown you don't like?"
"Nothing," he answered honestly. "Everything."
"That certainly clarifies things," she commented dryly.
He stiffened. "I fail to see the humor in the situation."
"You would if you could see the expression on your face, Jays." She smiled up at him. "You wanted me off your hands. And you're supposed to be helping me find another suitor, yet you scowl at every man who dares look my way."
"My scowl is the only thing keeping you safe," he said.