Page 12 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
“I cannot deny I miss it,” he whispered, shifting his touch to just one hand. They stepped towards one another and then apart again, performing a deep and slow step perfectly matched to the dramatic tune. “Yet at this moment? Well, we could say I am glad to be where I am.” He raised his hand, and she turned underneath it, flicking her head around so she returned her eyes quickly to meet his own.
“I spent many a night waking up in the hot rooms of India, stepping out onto balconies and admiring the stars, with the scents of turmeric and incense in the air. That is a beauty that is hard to compete with, but I am still very glad to be here now.”
“Oh, a compliment indeed.” She giggled and turned her head away from him, preparing to part for the next part of the dance. “But perhaps you give such compliments to all ladies, eh? Silver-tongued gentlemen are good at making ladies hang on their words.”
Then she parted, following the other ladies as they created two great circles in the middle of the floor. As she danced away, she felt the gentleman’s gaze upon her. She glanced back, more than once, catching his eye before she returned to him.
They came together, taking each other’s hand and circling one another once more.
“No silver tongue here,” he whispered in her ear. “You’ll find I did not want to come at all tonight. I confess I’m relieved I came now.”
“Why did you not want to come?” she asked as they turned to face one another. They had to wait for another couple to circle them once more, so just stared at each other, hand in hand, neither moving.
Juliet felt such tension as she stared at him that her chest fluttered up and down with quick movements. She prayed no one in the room was watching the pair of them, or they would undoubtedly note that she looked at this man as she did not think she had looked at any other.
He didn’t answer her right away but grimaced.
“Come now,” she said, continuing her playful tone. “Did we not agree to share a real conversation with no platitudes?”
“Then I’ll be honest.” He turned her under his arm. “My parents insisted that I come, and I came to meet my sister’s betrothed. Yet when I walk into this room, I find the whole formality, the performances the people put on,” he broke off and chuckled, “it reminds me of being at the theatre.”
“It does?”
“For instance.” He turned her in so she was nestled under his arm, then he walked her down the line of the dance, changing places with another partnership. So close to him now she could smell his scent. Reminded of what he had said about his travels to India, she realized that the scent he wore was far different from the usual excessive sweetness of the cologne most men wore in this room.
His scent was of spices and a vague fragrant note that hovered in the air. “How many people have you seen tonight who stand as they think they ought rather than what makes them comfortable?”
“There is not a soul here who is not doing that.” She laughed warmly as he turned her out once more from under his arm. They returned to the beginning of the dance, walking around each other without touching. “Everyone performs to a standard expected of them. Even you, I am sure.”
“Me? Oh, outrageous! Surely not me.” His reaction made her laugh deeply. As they circled each other again, this time, they walked even closer together in a way she was sure she should not have done. “I like to buck the trend, I am afraid.”
“How do you do that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. Before they could say any more to one another, they broke off, forced to make those circles with the other dancers again. As Juliet looked at the distance that separated them, she was certain she saw him breathing as fast as she was now, and she hoped it had more to do with this meeting than just the dance.
When they came back together, they joined both hands, heads bowed together.
“Sometimes, I am fond of rebelling against the norm,” he whispered to her, his voice so deep that she felt a pleasant shiver up her spine. “You look intrigued by the idea.”
“Perhaps I am.” She chewed her lip before a confession tumbled from her lips. It was strange, for she did not know this man. She had known him for just a few minutes altogether and had no idea of his name, position, or anything about him, yet everything in their conversation induced her to believe she could trust him with the confession she was about to make. “You see before you a lady who has always tried to play by the rules.”
“Always?” He raised a single eyebrow as if in disbelief as he turned her under his arm, and she flicked her head around once more, eager to keep looking at him.
“Well, my conversation might be a little rebellious at times, but I act as I should, and I do as my parents expect of me, but what you speak of?” She paused, watching him intently. “You make me curious about the ways to bend the rules a little.”
The music was ending now, though she was scarcely aware of it. All she thought of was the way the masked man lowered their clasped hands between the pair of them.
“Oh, I could show you many ways to bend the rules.” He winked at her, and her stomach did somersaults.
With the closing notes of the music, he kissed the back of her hand and bowed to her. He lingered with his lips on her white glove, far longer than he should have done, though she found she didn’t mind. Let him bend this rule as well as any other he wished to show her.
“For instance, if your dance card were not already taken, I’d ask you for a second dance now, yet I cannot.” Before any more could be said between them, the gentleman who had written his name beside the next dance appeared beside her, trying to muscle his way in. “Until later,” her masked man said in her ear, releasing her. “Maybe sometimes I can show you a little of how to rebel.”
She looked around, wishing to follow him with her eyes, but he was already disappearing into the crowd.
Quite breathless, Juliet was scarcely ready for her next dance. She struggled to control her breathing and concentrate on the dance as she was led back to the middle of the floor. She even stayed quiet compared to usual in her dances, for every time her dance partner endeavoured to speak with her, she had to bite her tongue not to laugh.
He talked of the weather and the number of couples in the room, all the platitudes and dull niceties that she had wished to avoid.
One dance blended into another, and another four dances passed where Juliet was asked to dance with a different gentleman each time. Between each number, she looked around the floor, intent on finding the masked man she had first danced with that night, but he seemed to have disappeared. She never caught sight of the curly black hair, the stubble, nor the dark mask that had hidden his features so well.
