Page 26 of Romancing the Rifleman
Harrington rifled through Lord Pearson’s desk until he found paper and pen.“I’ll write out a note for you to sign, explaining your intentions.Just so everything is clear.”
Newcombe scrawled his signature, and Harrington’s heart sang.He had actually done it!He knew it was just a bit of luck, that by some happy chance the Riflemen had become all the rage at the perfect moment, and his success was only due to the green coat gracing his shoulders.
But still, he felt bloody good about himself for once in his life.
He listened to Bertram Newcombe’s increasingly slurred stories for another fifteen minutes before the man fell asleep in his chair.Harrington slipped out, asked the footman in the hall to keep an eye on him, and went in search of the person with whom he most wanted to celebrate.
Striding into the ballroom, he almost bumped into Peter Ferguson.“Have you seen Diana?”he asked without preamble.
Peter gave him a speaking look.“Diana, is it?It happens that I was just going to claim her for the next dance.”
“Can I have it?”Harrington asked, not bothering to act coy.“Please?”
Peter’s eyes turned sympathetic.“Of course.”
“Except…” Harrington peered across the ballroom.As usual, Marcus Latimer was looming over his sister, watching her like an immaculately dressed hawk.“You’ll have to go and fetch her.”
Peter gave him an incredulous look.
Harrington dropped his voice low.“Her brother will never let her go off with me.You go and claim her for the dance, and I’ll take your place after you’ve lined up.”
He could tell Peter was holding in a laugh, but all he said was, “All right.”
Harrington watched from the edge of the ballroom, bouncing on the balls of his feet.He couldn’t wait to tell Diana how well he had done.
He watched Peter bow over her hand.As he escorted her across the room, Peter leaned down and whispered something in her ear.He made a subtle gesture to the corner where Harrington stood, no doubt asking her if she had any objections to dancing with him instead.
Diana looked up, and her eyes found his across the ballroom.
Then, she did it.
She smiled.
It was one of those glowing, light-up-your face sorts of smiles, and it knocked him right back on his heels.Diana Latimer rarely smiled.She wielded a stony expression as effectively as she wielded her sword, using it to keep the fortune-hunters of London from laboring under the delusion that they had wormed their way into her good graces.
But now, she was smiling likethat?Because she was going to dance withhim?
It made him feel ten feet tall.
She and Peter found places toward the bottom of the line of dancers.Harrington waited until the orchestra struck the opening notes, then he strode across the ballroom and clapped Peter on the shoulder.Peter surrendered his place at once, squeezing Harrington’s arm as he took himself off.
Then, it was just him and Diana.
Well, and fifty-some-odd other dancers.
Not that he could see any of them.He only had eyes for her.
As they circled each other, Harrington tilted his head toward her ear.“I did it.”
It was a country dance, and a quick one at that, so she didn’t have time to say anything before the steps forced them apart, but she managed to squeeze his forearm.When they came together again, she asked breathlessly.“You got the votes?”
He didn’t have time to respond, but he nodded from his spot in the opposite line of dancers.When it was time for them to dance another turn, he managed to say, “I started with Colin Rhys-Jones.”
After another ten turns, he had only managed to impart a tiny fraction of the story of how he’d brought Rhys-Jones around.
By then, they had almost reached the bottom of the line of dancers.Soon, they would have to dance their way back to the top.
To his right, the balcony doors loomed, open and inviting.
