Page 43 of Leap of Faith
“For now, there is only me,” he replied.
They met in the centre of the line. Their hands touched palm to palm and they circled each other. It was intimate and heady having his full attention centred on her.
Her breath felt tight in her chest while she also felt as if she were floating on air. She would forever remember this dance and wondered if all others would be a disappointment henceforth.
She permitted herself to forget there was anyone else in the room watching, and made the mistake of allowing herself to imagine things she had long ago decided were not possible for her.
However, she need not dream of them with Lord Westwood, whom she knew to be impossible with his reputation. It was dangerous enough for him to awaken the possibilities in her. Why had she allowed him to? She had warned her heart from the beginning, yet felt a crack in the armour she’d carefully shielded herself with.
Yet the moment was perfect.
Only until the dance is over, she allowed.
“Do you still hate me for forcing you into this?” Lord Westwood asked with a bow as the dance ended.
“Never hate, but you are most definitely still an ogre.”
“Perhaps that will change, Faith,” he whispered in her ear as he released her.
* * *
Dominic did not dance againthat night. For one, he was behaving abominably with Miss Whitford, and he needed to decide what he was about. For two, there was no need—he was mobbed for introductions the moment he stepped off the ballroom floor with her. For three, he did not want to set any kind of precedent. He could have danced with his other wards, but it was quite unnecessary as they were successfully launched.
He made his way around the ballroom, greeting each of his guests.
Those with no daughters to launch congratulated him on their success. Those with maidens of a marriageable age barely restrained their angst while simultaneously trying to convince him to dance. He quickly excused himself to mingle, sidestepping matchmaking mamas with a decade of experience in polite indifference.
He may have been talking, but he was observing. Each of the sisters already seemed to have a following. Strange how like seemed to attract like. Young Grace was surrounded with mostly those recently down from university. Patience was surrounded by a sea of red regimentals, and Hope was occupied with more of the outspoken, politically minded. But where was Faith? She would not abandon her sisters—he knew she carefully kept watch over each of them while holding her own court of admirers, despite knowing his mother was chaperoning them. Faith had danced every dance—despite her belief that she was nearly on the shelf. Silly girl!
His eyes scanned the crowd for a second time before they alighted upon her. Carew was leading her onto the floor for the supper dance. Was that not his second dance with her? Dominic frowned. Carew was the least likely of them to succumb to a pretty face, and no one would convince Dominic that Miss Whitford’s hand had not been solicited by others. Had she made a conquest of the Irish rogue? He would bear watching. Dominic would not waste emotion on jealousy when he could not make up his own mind.
Dominic caught a glimpse of some mischievous blue eyes looking down from the gallery, then noticed Freddy leave towards the stairs. Was he going to spend the supper dance with the little imp? Dominic would not put it past her to request such a thing of him! But Freddy was a grown man, even if young at heart, and could handle his own affairs. He posed no danger to little Joy.
As Dominic entered the card room, where a dozen tables were full of games, a hush fell, and instantly his eyes fell on Sir Julian, who flushed. Dominic acted as though he had not noticed, but he would need to see what the devil the fop was about this time. It could only be a wager, but he was certain his wards had done nothing thus far beyond being beautiful to cause rampant speculation.
He chose a seat next to his father’s closest friend, Sir Walter Hornsby, and the room resumed its chatter.
“Have your hands full?” Sir Walter asked.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“If I were you, I would find them a chaperone apiece, and I don’t mean your friends!”
“That would be very tiresome,” Dominic drawled. And it would. However, if it became necessary to take such drastic measures, he would—or send them back to Bath. “Has Sir Julian begun some foolishness?”
Sir Walter leaned closer and said just above a whisper, “Aye, he’s begun his own private wagers on each of the girls. You won’t find them in the books at the clubs.”
“It is not terribly private of him to discuss such goings-on in my own home at their debut ball.”
“I do not know what the coxcomb is about.”
Nor did Dominic, but he would root it out. “You will send me word if you hear of anything specific?”
He nodded. “That I will.”
Dominic stood and greeted a few more of his father’s set before escaping, his thoughts more consumed with his wards. Perhaps he was becoming a nursery maid! Yet he had taken them on, and he must protect them. A devilish notion.
He would have to bestir himself to discover Sir Julian’s wager, and find a way to thrust a spoke into that wheel.
