Page 63 of The Defiant Governess
He reached for her dance card. “Ah, the rewards of being unfashionably early,” he smiled. “I shall claim the first waltz, as well as?—”
“I’m sorry. I’m promised for the first waltz.”
His eyes flickered with annoyance. “I see no name there.”
“Nevertheless, it is taken.”
“Who...” began the young duke, when a group of other gentlemen descended upon them. Jane was saved from further conversation with him as she exchanged greetings with her well-wishers.
Within minutes, her card was filled for the evening, Branwell having had to satisfy himself with the supper dance and a later waltz.
The music began and she was led out for the opening set of country dances. Her partner, Viscount Stoneleigh, was an old friend who also chided her on her long absence from Society. With a twinkle in his eye, he promised to bring her up to date on all that had happened. But despite his droll observations on the latestondits, Jane found her attention wandering.
Her eyes searched the crowded room.Surely he must be here by now.Unaware of the music, she made a glaring misstep, causing her partner to tread on the toe of her slipper.
“Your pardon!” Stoneleigh apologized, peering at her startled face. “Lady Jane, I fear you haven’t heard a word I have been saying!”
Jane blushed guiltily and forced herself to banter with him until the dance ended and he led her back to the group of her admirers.
Her next partner was sent to fetch lemonade, giving her time to look around once more. She caught her breath as she saw Saybrook standing alone, arms crossed, surveying the room. He looked magnificent in his evening clothes. The other lords suddenly seemed like a flock of poppinjays with their striped waistcoats, bright colors and dangling fobs and seals.
The marquess was dressed entirely in black, save for the snowy cravat at his throat and a single gold signet ring on his finger. He seemed not to notice her at all, his eyes sweeping past as if she were merely one of the decorative blooms. With a tinysigh of disappointment she turned back to her partner with an animated smile and feigned a lighthearted gayness.
After yet another dance, Jane begged to sit down for a moment.
She knew what was coming next. Already the musicians were running through the first few bars of the lilting melody in prelude to the first waltz of the evening. Resisting the urge to look around yet again, she made herself listen with a smile to the Vicar’s wife prose on about her weak constitution.
“What sort of muttonheaded fool leaves a Diamond of the First Water sitting out a waltz?” growled Branwell as he approached and bent close to her ear.
“I am quite exhausted. I prefer to sit,” she answered quietly.
“Nonsense. I won’t allow it.”
“Your Grace, please. I do not wish to,” she said, trying to evade his hand.
However, he had succeeded in taking hold of her and rather than make an unpleasant scene, she rose reluctantly.
“I believe Lady Jane is promised for this dance.”
The deep voice sent a thrill down Jane’s spine.
Branwell turned to face the tall stranger. “Since you, sir, have been so rag-mannered as to leave the lady waiting, I believe you have forfeited your right.” He glared with a smug expression, confident that such a ringing set down would send the man slinking away.
“I think not.” Saybrook’s voice was still low, but with an icy coolness that made the other gentleman draw back in surprise. Saybrook’s hand was already on Jane’s elbow and he guided her to the dance floor before the startled duke could say another word.
They took their positions silently and the musicians began to play.
Like before, she followed him effortlessly, instinctively. As they floated along with a natural grace that drew admiring glances from the couples around them, she was intensely aware of his hand on the small of her back, the heat emanating from the closeness of his body, his earthy, masculine scent. Unconsciously she squeezed his hand. In response he pulled her a fraction of an inch closer. At that, she summoned the courage to look up at him. His eyes were riveted on her face, his expression intent yet inscrutable.
“You … you remembered,” she managed to say.
“As if I could forget,” he murmured in a husky whisper.
Nothing was said for another few moments. Then he spoke again, still in a near whisper. “Let me say that your gown is infinitely more becoming than the one you were wearing last time we danced.”
A smile came to her lips, and she saw an immediate softening of his features. “Don’t remind me of how hideous I must have looked. Thank goodness you are well rid of such a sight.”
“You are very wrong. It is a great sadness to me that Miss Jane Langley has disappeared.”
