Page 9 of Courting the Earl
He held out his arm. “I believe this is our set.”
The low timbre of his voice sent a thrill of anticipation through her. One for which she sternly admonished herself. She would enjoy their dance, but she wouldn’t start spinning fantasies about this man. Not when he was going to marry Lydia.
“But this is a waltz.”
He lifted one brow, and she hated how foolish she sounded.
She lowered her voice and continued. “You should be waltzing with my cousin.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Miss Pearson is already dancing with someone else.”
He didn’t move away, and others were beginning to whisper. She realized she was causing a scene and took his arm. They joined the other couples who were waiting for the music to begin. When they passed a giggling Lydia, whose attention was fixed on her dance partner, she took a deep breath and tried to ignore the nerves that were growing with each passing second.
The opening strains of the music began to play, and she had to force back the desire to flee. Instead, she stepped into Lord Hargrove’s arms and sent up a prayer that she wouldn’t step on his feet. She’d only waltzed with the dance instructor who’d been hired last year to help Lydia prepare for her debut. The man had been older and very strict about proper behavior.
Being in Lord Hargrove’s arms, Eleanor felt anything but proper.
For one, she was much taller than other women and had been of an equal height as the dance instructor. But Hargrove made her feel small and delicate. It was a pleasant feeling.
There was a respectable distance between them, but it was impossible to ignore the heat he generated. The hand at her waist felt like it was branding her through her dress. And despite the fact they were both wearing gloves, it was more than a little disconcerting to have her fingers held within his much larger palm.
As he guided her through the dance steps, she couldn’t help but notice he was an excellent dance partner. She knew her movements were awkward at first, her worry causing her to hold herself more stiffly than she should. He gave no indication he’d noticed.
He broke the tension that had settled over her by asking, “Are you enjoying the evening, Miss Pearson?”
“I’m enjoying it more now that I’m actually dancing.” And she was, even if she felt as though the two of them shouldn’t be waltzing.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her. “I am happy to be of service.”
They made one turn about the ballroom in silence before he spoke again. “I believe it is now your turn to continue the conversation.”
Her mind was blank, so she relied on one of the staples of pleasant discourse. “It is unseasonably warm for this time of year. Do you not think so?”
He chuckled. “So tell me, Miss Pearson, just how close are you to your cousin?”
His question had the effect of both calming and unsettling her nerves. Lydia was a common subject of conversation among the men of her acquaintance—the women too if she were being truthful. It was a familiar refrain. But she couldn’t deny she was disappointed that he’d only asked her to dance because he wanted to discuss Lydia.
“We are very close.”
He executed a quick turn. It was so expertly done she hadn’t had time to wonder if she was going to trip until they’d returned to the standard steps of the dance. But she did notice that she was now a fraction closer to him. There was still a respectable distance between them, but she couldn’t deny her proximity to him unsettled her.
“What are your cousin’s feelings about our betrothal? You can be honest with me.”
He looked so calm, and it annoyed her that he was totally unaffected when she could barely breathe. “She thinks you’re old.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “She’ll have her pick of suitors this season.”
His lack of concern bothered her. “Does she need suitors when she already has you?”
His eyes narrowed as he examined her. “Your uncle has told me that she doesn’t wish anyone to learn about the agreement.”
Eleanor sighed. “If you’re concerned that she won’t do her duty—”
“Actually, the opposite is true.”
Eleanor had no idea what he was saying. The man was speaking in riddles. “You’re worried she’ll do her duty?”
“I don’t wish to wed.”
