Talk of the Ton (Free Fellows League 5)

He smiled, barely suppressing a look of triumph, and crooked an arm. “Strange. I was told you did not enjoy dancing. Among other things.”

“What other things?”

“

I am constrained by my honor from repeating them. But I am anxious to prove all the naysayers wrong.”

They took their position. “Should you not be spending your time looking over the young ladies?” she asked him. “You are in Town on a matter of marriage.”

“Yes, but as you know, it is not a task that holds much enjoyment for me, so I thought that I would have a little fun before the work of the evening began.”

“Fun?” She was surprised.

“With you, Miss Alt. Dancing with you is the most diverting way I can think of to pass the time.”

She fell silent, thinking about this. Did he truly like her company so much?

The dance began, and she moved her feet while her mind wrestled with this incredible fact. He did seem to always be seeking her out, and as he was neither a fool nor a cad, she could only consider that he was telling the truth.

“You dance quite well,” he commented, coming to take her hand. They proceeded down the floor with the other couples. “By the fact that you do not care for the activity, I thought you would be plodding about.”

“Really!” she admonished, unable to keep herself from a chuckle. “Do you think me clumsy, then? I do not know why you would entertain such a thought.”

“Neither would I. I have yet to find an area where you do not distinguish yourself, Miss Alt.”

She blushed. His compliment seemed sincere.

Why was he not with Cassandra? She had imagined he would be dancing in attendance to her all night, ensuring that no other man would take the advantage with her affections.

But he didn’t seem at all mindful of her cousin, and she so liked dancing with him. People were staring, both at the novelty of the new face, for it was the earl’s first appearance at a major assembly, and they might also be shocked to see her on the dance floor. She liked them noticing her. Perhaps even envying her. Instead of the pitying looks she was used to seeing, she saw interest, and smiles that were sly and encouraging.

After the dance, he led her into the refreshment room. She thought he would leave her then, but he did not.

She kept expecting him to announce that it was time to be about the evening’s work, but he lingered among the potted palms, where they sipped their punch and talked for a long time. His conversation was clever, and they laughed easily.

She had the card where he had written his name. He reached out and looked at it. No one else had approached her to put their name down.

“I marvel that the men in London are so stupid,” he said.

She looked down at his neat printing. It made her happy to see his name there. “It is known I do not dance. It is I, not them, who are to blame. I always decline requests for dances.”

“Good heavens, why?”

“I did not have time for such things. It was Cassandra’s successful launch into society that was the priority,” she said, but the excuse sounded weak. She bowed her head, ashamed to look at him.

“You do not really believe that.”

“Perhaps it was an excuse.” She met his gaze. “Who would look at me, anyway, when there was Cassandra?”

His gaze was warm, and he smiled, as if to find this a silly question. She considered that it might have sounded as if she were fishing for compliments, and she blushed profusely.

“Miss Alt,” he began, then stopped. The beginning strains of a song began to play, and he started. “I believe I have to be going. I lost track of time. We will speak later.”

“Thank you for the dance,” she said. She held up the cut glass. “And the punch.”

He touched her face, brushing his fingertips along her chin. It was a shocking thing to do out in the open, where who knew who could be watching.

Remembering himself, he dropped his hand. “Thank you, Miss Alt, for the dance.”