Page 33 of The Defiant Governess
“Ah, haven’t been approved by the Dragons at Almack’s?” he teased. “No matter. The rules are always more relaxed at a country home. Come, I hadn’t thought you so poor-spirited as to be afraid of trying something new.”
“I’m not afraid,” she mumbled, turning away from him.
“Good!”
He stopped playing but kept humming the tune in his rich baritone. Taking her by the elbow, he guided her out to the middle of the floor.
“Now put your hand on my shoulder like this,” he said as his arm slipped around her waist. The steps are rather simple—just follow me.”
He began humming again, his mouth close to her ear. She could feel the heat from his chest against hers, and the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back. He moved with a natural grace that made the dance seem effortless. Their steps flowed together as if they were one.
Jane relaxed, letting herself draw closer to him. Gradually he picked up the tempo and they swirled around the room. As if by magic, she could hear violins and piano, feel the layered silk of an evening gown, see the glittering of candles and crystal, inhale the fragrance of orange blossoms and roses. When she chanced to look up, she found him smiling at her, a strange warmth in his sea green eyes.
Shyly, she smiled back.
“Miss Jane! Uncle Edward! What are you doing?” Peter was standing in the doorway, watching them quizzically.
The spell was broken. Jane dropped her arm and pulled quickly away from the marquess. To her dismay, she could feel a deep blush creeping up her face.
“I am showing Miss Langley a waltz, imp,” called Saybrook.
“Can I learn, too?”
Saybrook laughed. “When you are older.”
“Are you ready for your lesson?” Jane smoothed at her skirts trying to hide her embarrassment.
Peter scampered towards the instrument, but Saybrook took Jane’s arm as she turned to go. He was still smiling. “You dance very well, Miss Langley. You must promise me the first waltz if by chance we meet at a ball.”
“What fustian, sir. You are teasing me again.”
“Indeed I am not. Come, give me your promise.”
Instead of lessening, the color in her face deepened. “Oh, very well,” she breathed, in order to make him release her arm. His touch was beginning to make her feel lightheaded. “Though you are being quite ridiculous.”
Saybrook bowed to her in mock solemnity and left the room, the smile still on his lips.
Seven
Peter struggled with the heavy wicker basket, refusing Jane’s help even though it knocked him in the shin with every step. “I’m not a baby,” he insisted. “And a gentleman always carries a parcel for a lady.”
Jane refrained from smiling and wondered where he had picked up that nugget of information.
“Very well,” she said. “I think we have picked a glorious day for our outing.”
The morning light was a rich gold, playing off the hints of color in the oaks and maples near the stables. The air was getting crisper, hinting at a change of season, but the cloudless sky promised that by noon the day would be deliciously warm. Jane had looked outdoors when she rose and suddenly decided to declare a holiday from the schoolroom. Instead, they would take a long ride to visit the Abbey ruins that lay not more than four miles from Highwood. She had been meaning to take Peter there—it was a good history lesson she assured herself. And one should not waste such a glorious day!
As they reached the stables, Saybrook walked out from among the stalls. He had just returned from an early morning excursion with his steward to inspect a broken millstone. Hiscoat of black superfine was draped over one arm and his cambric shirt was open at the neck, revealing a few curls of dark hair. The breeze had ruffled his locks and they fell rakishly across his forehead. Jane couldn’t help but notice the way the light filtered through the thin material of his shirt, outlining the broad shoulders and narrow waist. The shirt was neatly tucked into skintight breeches, which were immaculate even though his Hessians were spattered with mud.
“Uncle Edward, Uncle Edward! We are going on a picnic. Look! Cook has filled this whole basket and I carried it all by myself.”
“Well done, imp.” Saybrook took the basket in one hand and swung the boy up on his shoulder. He fell in step with Jane. “A splendid day for a ride. Where are you going?”
“To Salston Abbey,” she replied.
“Would you like to come, too?” chirped the boy.
Saybrook cocked a brow at Jane. “I haven’t been invited.”
