Page 81 of The Earl Takes All
Slowly, gently, she turned the small handle, afraid something so delicate might break. When it would turn no more, she released her hold and “Greensleeves” began tinkling around her.
Memories washed over her, of ballrooms and waltzes and being held inappropriately close, yet never objecting. She hadn’t even realized she held those remembrances, and yet there they were, so vivid, as though the moments had occurred only last night.
“You always waltzed with me when the orchestra played this tune,” she said quietly.
“I wasn’t certain if you noted that it was always the same song.” He still hadn’t moved, didn’t appear to even be breathing.
“I’m not certain that I really did until just now. Why the same song?”
“If it was a pleasant experience for you, I wanted you to associate it with me. And if it wasn’t, I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining every tune for you.”
Closing the lid, she stroked her fingers over the polished wood, the vibrations of the tune thrumming through it. “I always enjoyed dancing with you. It seemed to be the only time that we weren’t at odds. I thought it was because we were concentrating on not stepping on each other’s feet.”
“Having the opportunity to dance with you is the only reason I ever attended any ball.”
It wasn’t so much that she wanted to be wooed as much as she wanted to ensure she saw him clearly, the man he truly was and not the man he’d been pretending to be. She needed to be certain she could separate one from the other, that any feelings she possessed for the man sitting across from her were sentiments he rightfully deserved. But when he uttered words such as those, how could she not be wooed, flattered, enticed? How could her heart remain unaffected? “We never spoke when we danced.”
“I wanted nothing to distract me from the sensation of holding you in my arms. Dance with me now.”
She glanced around wildly, wanting what he offered, yet strangely fearful that it might prove her undoing. “What? Here? Or are you suggesting we go to the grand salon?”
“The grand salon is too large.” He stood and extended his hand. “The foyer would serve better. More intimate but with enough room that we won’t bump into anything. The box can serve as the orchestra.”
“It’s madness.”
“Then be a little mad.”
He was looking at her seriously, solemnly, and yet there was a challenge in those brown eyes. Neither of them had put on their gloves following dinner. His hand in no way reminded her of Albert’s graceful one. Edward’s appeared stronger. He had a callus on the pad below his index finger. Months here, and yet still his hands were those of someone who preferred the outdoors and exertion. She slipped her hand into his. As his fingers closed around it, before she could rise, he grabbed the box that would have required two of her hands to hold it securely and was then pulling her to her feet.
“I haven’t danced since last Season,” she said as he escorted her from the room.
“I haven’t danced since I last danced with you.”
“But you did dance with other ladies,” she pointed out. She’d seen him dancing with them, and each one had looked completely infatuated.
“I did, but I usually retired to the card room after I waltzed with you. I liked having your scent lingering around me, which in retrospect was rather masochistic on my part.”
“I truly had no idea.”
“That was the whole point in my unforgivable behavior.” They reached the foyer, and he released his hold on her. “Now I need you to see and trust that the man I was before is not the man I am.”
He wound up the music box, his large hand dwarfing the small mechanism, then set it on a table that hugged a wall. The music filled the area. He stepped up to her and drew her into the circle of his arms.
And then they were waltzing. Closer than was appropriate, more securely than he’d ever held her, as though he would never let her go. Or perhaps he merely wanted to ensure that she didn’t knock into any of the tables or statuettes or flower vases. How he managed to avoid them was beyond her, as his gaze never left hers.
She realized that during all the years when they had shared a single dance, he’d always given her his full and complete attention. She simply hadn’t seen it because devotion to her was not what she expected of him. She’d assumed he was striving to make her feel uncomfortable or mock her in some way, and yet still she’d enjoyed circling over the floor with him because he was one of the most graceful dancers she knew. Perhaps because he’d spent time balancing along cliffs or hazardous trails. He’d skirted obstacles to reach his destinations—
But he’d walked away that night in the garden because his brother loved her, and she loved his brother. And he loved Albert.
The music stopped and yet still seemed to hover on the air, reluctant to go away completely. As reluctant as Edward seemed to release his hold on her. He lowered his head.
She pressed a finger to his lips. He stilled, his eyes searching hers.
“If you kiss me, I’ll be lost,” she told him.
“I’ll find you, lead you back.”
“I have to lead myself back. Edward, I must be sure that what I’m feeling is not influenced by what I no longer have.”
