Page 25 of When He Was Wicked
He prowled over to her and held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”
She allowed him to pull her up and she walked beside him in silence as they made their way to his ballroom. The space echoed with emptiness, but the scent on lemon wax was redolent on the air. It was quite a large ballroom with two folding doorswhich could open up to the larger drawing room. Floor to ceiling windows dominated a large portion of the room, and the gold and blue striped wallpaper lent the room an air of elegance. The room was brightly lit with several lamps and candles. Verity could imagine a ball here, thousands of candles lit on the chandeliers, the scent of lavender and honeysuckle filling the lungs, the laughter and chatter, and the music.
Verity spun to face him, trying not to blush at the intent way he stared at her. He was unpardonable in his admiration, and it was as if he memorized everything about her. A pang tore through her heart. Was he too dreading the day their clandestine lessons would end?
“You are the most graceful man I know.”
“It is easy for me to deduce you socialize with few gentlemen.”
“The fluidity of your movements when you teach me to fight, your stylishness as you dart and shift, at times you mesmerize me how light you are on your feet, James. You should take that same skill and passion into dance.”
She sauntered over to him and placed the tip of her finger over his chest.Tap. Tap. Tap. “Feel the beat of the music here. You have the perfect elegance to dance the waltz.”
As if he could not help himself, he drew her close and spun her so she stood by his side. She turned her head to look at him wonderingly. “You’ve had some lessons?” she asked archly.
“I admit it, I hired a tutor once.”
They took three steps forward, and then faced each other.
“Can you imagine the strains of the orchestra?” she hummed slightly. “Can you hear it?”
“I believe I can.”
“Then dance with me, James.”
His eyes darkened, and he took her into the perfect position, sliding his arms along hers to hold her by the elbows, thentugging her into the invisible strains of the waltz. Verity hummed, and they glided around the room, at first with some measure of awkwardness and then with such commanding poise and agility he stole her breath. How long they rotated and spun she could not say, but when they halted, they were both laughing like dolts.
Looking up at him she clapped. “I have been deceived, James, you are a wonderful dancer! This lesson has been wonderfully diverting. Are you to attend Lady William’s midnight ball in a few weeks? I daresay by then we should master the grand waltz, and the quadrille. It would be the perfect place to ask a young lady to dance, someone of your liking of course, and perhaps you should endeavor to pay her a compliment.”
His grunt of irritation implied he was not in accord with that plan.
She sent him a perplexed glance. “Or perhaps not to dance?”
“The way we move together, Verity, I would be most astonished if such perfection could be accomplished with just anyone.”
The unexpectedness of this admission took her breath away. “James…”
He bowed. “Accept my thanks for a most agreeable evening, Verity. I believe tonight’s lesson has been imparted. I shall call the carriage for you.”
Before she could question his sudden coolness, he’d already turned away, making his way for the entrance. She stared at his retreating back, an unknown hunger crawling through her. And at its heart there was also a sadness.
What do you want from me, James? And why do I want to give it to you, more than I’ve wanted anything in my whole life?
CHAPTER TEN
Six weeks and two days had passed since Verity had appeared on the earl’s doorstep. She had been instructed several times thus far in the art of fighting, and she had been horrified this morning to note the slight development of muscles in her upper arms. She felt fitter, more confident, and less afraid. It was as if with each lesson, she vanquished the lingering dread.
Their unorthodox friendship flourished with each titillating secretive encounter, and Verity’s admiration for James grew to an astonishing degree. A gentleman is thought to be of top quality through education, refinement, polished manners, a considerable degree of charm, and the productive management of his inheritance. With each passing reflection, which Verity admitted was terribly often, she’d deduced James wasmorethan a gentleman.
He truly existed in a class of his own, and the appellation could not stand alone to describe James. He was charming, kind, thoughtful in his manners and civility, yet at times mercurial and abrupt, with layers to his character Verity presumed would take her years to understand. He challenged her, encouraged her, and always lent a listening ear whenever she vented herfrustration of the tiresome nature of the season’s frivolities, the gossip sheets, and the hurtful distance with her family.
Verity waited for the earl in his brightly lit library. A decanter of sherry had been rested on the mantle along with whisky. She removed her hat and veil and lowered herself into the plush sofa. She had arrived at James's townhouse at her usual time, but he had not been present. That had been a first. Tonight's lesson was to be a continuation of the art of intelligent conversations with a lady of society. This had proven the most challenging aspect to James, for he wished to discuss politics, past wars, the economy, horse racing, and even fishing.
When she had suggested he could soften the tension by commenting on the weather, his muttered, “Good God!” had been filled with such horror she had laughed and admitted such conversation could be intolerable but seemed to be the expected norm. That evening they had engaged in such lively discourse, the night had ended without their lesson.
That was becoming too common, and she was determined to honor her part of the bargain. Even though the awareness of what he might do with the knowledge hurt somewhere deep inside. The ending of their arrangement hovered. Only last week they had decided to reduce how often she sneaked away from her home to be with him. Mamma and Albert were becoming irritated with her various excuses to be absent from social events.
There had been a rout-party last week, Albert had been most adamant she should attend. Verity went and had been alarmed that her brother was seeking a political connection with the hostess’s father. The man had to be thrice Verity’s age! The pressure from her brother to depart his household had increased dramatically, and the sense that she ought to find a gentleman to her liking and be pleasantly receptive to his advances lurked in her convictions.
