Page 6 of Lady, Behave
“I must thank you for your addition to Alworth’s syrup.”
“It worked well for your mother?”
“Indeed.” The dancers in their set began a rhythmic walk to the right. Heath’s commanding arm around her waist felt comforting against the silk of her gown. “It worked in minutes. I thought it…magic.”
He had tried it, too? Wonderful!“You approve!”
“I do. Have you perhaps training in chemistry, Miss Adelaide?”
She admired the melting regard of his gaze. It was rather like jumping into a cup of hot chocolate. She’d like to kiss his eyelids. Taste his long dark auburn lashes. Lick the cinnamon spicing the brew.
He grinned at her as they turned, and she caught the sensuous lure of his perusal. “Do you?”
“Do I…? I’m sorry. I had a moment’s distraction.”
“So did I, Miss Adelaide.” He said with that bass voice that tingled her toes. “I look at you and see all’s right with the world.”
Now she’d heard men go into raptures about her before. Her hair was an angel’s. Her eyes, the morning sky. Her skin, the…whatever it was. Parchment. Vanilla. Something, something. But this from him in his stirring bass voice sounded so sincere, she could not count it down as hard seduction.
“I find you intriguing,” she’d said as they returned to each other, and she met his forthright gaze with her own. “Forgive me. I say what I know. Am I too bold?”
His manly features mellowed. So he was in earnest. Not simply the swain, the seducer, the rogue who would sweet-talk her. “Please. Continue.”
“You have schooled yourself to a serene exterior. You control your days, your nights, your friends. Yet you have suffered greatly.”
He stared at her so fiercely, she could not tell if he was shocked or complimented by her insights. “You heard my mother declare it.”
“More than headaches, I venture.” She tipped her head as she regarded him with compassion. Her truths could send others fleeing her, never to return. Revealing herself to this man would test his mettle. Her hope to keep him interested could die on this dance floor. “I have a skill to see the pain people bear beneath their visage.”
They left each other at the march of the dance, and when they came round again, he gripped one of her hands as dictated by the form, but his hold was that of a desperate man’s. “How do you come by it? Your grandfather taught you? Your mother? Who?”
“None. Perhaps it was my attachment to Grandpapa’s maladies that opened my sensitivities to others’ complaints. I only know I can see beneath the surface. Your mother, for example—”
And they parted once more.
“Tell me,” he murmured when they faced each other again.
“She has megrims.” Addy spun away. And when she returned, she said, “But I think she has more. A palsy. St. Vitus Dance, perhaps?”
“How do you see this?” he urged, appearing awed as well as rabid to learn more of her abilities.
“Your mother’s right hand shakes when she wishes to be emphatic. This is not normal. Not even though she wishes to draw attention to her desires. I’d say she needs oranges and more sunshine.”
Once more they were parted by the steps of the country dance.
And when together again, he leaned close and whispered, “I wish to hear more about your abilities, Miss Adelaide.”
“Addy,” she told him on impulse, hoping that he might feel comfortable describing how or why he acquired his debilitating health condition. Men disliked claiming any malady, noting any as their failure.
“Gyles,” he responded and grinned at her. “We will be fast friends.”
“Shall we declare it already so?” To wipe away any formalities would speed their courtship if indeed she still liked him after this dance.
“We are. I wish to see you again, Addy. Quite soon.”
Quivering in success, Addy knew precisely where and when. “Do come to tea. We receive on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.”
“I will be there tomorrow.”
