A Christmas Dance (2 page)

“The crush, yes. The rest is avoidable.” She cocked her head at him as he took a seat beside her. “You’ve a very low opinion of such gatherings. Why ever do you attend?” Her eyes grew round behind her spectacles. “I beg your pardon, that was very rude. I—“

“Seems a reasonable question to me,” he replied with a shrug. “And I attend because, as you said, the worst is avoidable. Moreover, if one looks hard enough, and is very lucky, one might find something interesting amid the mindless babble. Something worth the inconvenience.”

“
Yes
.” Her smile returned, even brighter, and she shifted excitedly in her seat. “Yes, that is
exactly
what I love about it. It’s rather like digging for treasure, isn’t it? There’s quite a bit of muck to shovel through, but the end result will
likely be worth it. And if it’s not, there is still enjoyment to be found in the process. The excitement that comes with wondering, with expectations, with possibilities and. . .”

He was having a difficult time concentrating on what she was saying, but not because he considered what she was saying dull. On the contrary, he thought her enthusiasm perfectly charming, for all that it was perfectly unexpected. It was just that he found his attention hopelessly drawn to the excited movement of her lips, and the small, delicious smear of chocolate at the corner. Clearly, if he was to make any sort of reasonable contribution to the conversation it would need to be removed, immediately.

“Hold still.” He drew out his handkerchief and reached for her. “You’ve bit of chocolate cake.”

She stopped speaking midsentence, and her hand came up to her lips. He caught it, pulled it down gently, and held it as he slowly wiped away the smudge. Far more slowly than was strictly necessary, but he found he wanted to draw out the moment. She had the slightest hint of roses about her, and he wondered if he leaned closer if the fresh feminine scent would be stronger.

Had he really thought her severe and unappealing only a few minutes ago? She didn’t look the least bit like either at present. In fact, she made a very pretty sight, sitting there
with her lips parted in surprise and her eyes wide with uncertainty. Eyes he suddenly realized weren’t a plain brown at all, but an unusually dark green that made him think of deep mountain forests.

Deep mountain forests?

Holy hell, what sort of fanciful babbling was that?

Stunned at the effect her nearness had on him, he withdrew the handkerchief, sat back and decided to weigh the scales once again in his favor.

“Shall we check your fingers as well?” he asked with a small smile.

“My fingers. . .” Realization dawned on her face, and with it came a bright stain of red on her cheeks. “You
saw
.”

“I did, indeed.”

“I. . .” She swallowed hard. “I’m certain it must have seemed most odd.”

“It did, indeed.”

“I. . .” He actually heard her swallow. “Oh, dear.”

Chapter 2

To Patience’s mind, embarrassment was available in a variety of forms. She’d experienced quite a few of them in her six-and-twenty years. There was the mild discomfort of wearing dated gowns in a room full of stylish ladies. There was the moderate embarrassment of never having learned the art of small talk and therefore never knowing quite what to say, and the more substantial humiliation of having a father who knew less and said more. There was the painful wounding of pride that came from living off the largesse of family friends, and the outright shame of lying about her circumstances.

Where, she wondered, did the mortification of having been caught stuffing an entire slice of cake into her mouth by the man one had a desperate
tendre
for, fit in?

“Miss Byerly, are you all right?”

Somewhere after her father and before the lying, she decided.

“Miss Byerly?”

“Yes. Yes, I. . .” She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his eyes. His beautiful dark eyes she’d previously thought of as kind, but that now danced with wicked merriment. “Are you going to tell?”

“About the cake?” He replaced his handkerchief in his pocket. “I rather doubt anyone would believe me.”

Of course they would believe him. He was an earl. He could announce to one and all that he had witnessed her trying to eat the drapery, and they’d believe him. Or believe there was enough truth to make life very difficult for her.

“I had reason,” she told him.

“I should dearly love to hear it.” He glanced down to where her fingers were once again worrying at the material of her gown. “Settle your feathers, Miss Byerly. I’ll not betray your secret.”

“Oh,
thank you
--”

“But I want something in return.” He smiled a little at her wary look. “I want to know how one becomes aware of having such a talent.”

She let herself rest against the back cushions of the settee, and blew out a quick breath of both relief and resignation. He wasn’t going to shame her, but neither was he going to let the matter drop. “I suppose one is born with an innate awareness of it.”

“We’re born with an innate awareness of a great many abilities,” he pointed out. “Generally, a proper education dissuades us from taking advantage of the most ill-advised.”

She gave him what she hoped was a haughty sort of look. “Like eavesdropping on two unsuspecting young women?”

“Nothing ill-advised about eavesdropping. It’s a remarkably useful tool. It’s getting caught in the act that I’d advise against.”

She rather thought the same could be said for her talent. “But you would advise admitting to it?”

“In this case, yes.” His eyes darted to her mouth. “It’s provided me with the most interesting conversation I’ve had in some time.”

She resisted the sudden urge to lick her lips. “Perhaps you should be more particular with whom you converse.”

“Difficult, when those I most wish to speak with are so often nowhere to be found. Miss Meldrin and yourself are deuced elusive creatures.”

Patience tried and failed not to feel disappointed at the pointed mention of her friend. It was no secret the Earl of Casslebury was considering taking a wife. Nor was it a secret that men of wealth and position did not make plain women of neither family nor fortune into countesses. They chose pretty young ladies of consequence. Young ladies such as Caroline Meldrin.

No doubt the Earl sought information about her friend, or perhaps he hoped to inspire jealousy. Either way, his interest lay elsewhere.

She should have known, should have realized his intentions from the very start. But he’d been standing before her, looking so terribly handsome in his dark evening wear. Handsome, strong, and so wonderfully dependable. How a man could
look
dependable, she couldn’t quite say. She might have said it was his self-assured aristocratic bearing, but his features weren’t refined quite enough for that. His jaw was too broad, his cheekbones too sharp, and his eyes and hair too dark. Perhaps it was the military carriage of his tall, muscled frame, or his deep commanding voice, or. . .Well, she had no idea, he simply exuded a sense of dependability she found most attractive. Her heart always leapt at the sight of him. When he’d asked her to dance, it had nearly burst from her chest.

Likely it was best that it was now settled uncomfortably at her feet. It wouldn’t do to build hopes around such an unlikely prospect. She pushed away her disenchantment and tried to recall what excuse Caroline had given for their latest disappearance.

“Caroline’s hem required mending,” she said,
relatively
certain that had been the one.

The corner of his mouth hooked up. “Miss Meldrin’s gowns require a great deal of mending, it seems to me. One would think she’d have switched modistes by now.”

“Yes. . .Well. . .” She fixed her eyes on the wall behind him. “She’s quite loyal.”

“You must be as well.” He caught and held her gaze. “To lie for her.”

She narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Are you teasing me, Lord Casslebury?”

“I am, yes.”

“I see.” She gave that some consideration. “Are you in the habit of teasing ladies you barely know?”

“No.” He looked mildly baffled. “I believe you may be the first woman other than my sister that I have ever teased.”

“Oh, well.” She felt a flutter in her chest and wondered how on earth one responded to such an admission. “I. . .Thank you?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then burst into laughter.

Apparently, that was not how one was supposed to respond to such an admission.

“You surprise me, Miss Byerly,” he finally managed to say.

“I imagine I do,” she muttered. She wondered how great a surprise she would have been to him a year ago, before she’d had the opportunity to acquire at least a handful of social graces.

“You give a very different impression than the person you seem to truly be,” he said.

“There are a great many in the
ton
who do the same,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but not quite so much by accident, I think.”

Not every false impression she gave was an accident, but she wasn’t about to admit to that after less than an hour of the man’s acquaintance, even if it was preceded by a much longer fascination on her part. “You make me sound like an ingénue.”

“I don’t know I’d call you that, specifically, but there is--”

He broke off when the elderly man in front of the fire suddenly launched to his feet, his substantial weight sending the heavy chair scratching against the floor. “
Ah ha
! I have it! I have it!
Around
the magnet!” The man bounded toward them, clothes askew, white hair standing on end, and blue eyes wide and wild. “It goes round the magnet!” He came to a stop in front of Patience, jabbed a finger toward the ceiling, and spun the index finger of his other hand around the first. “Do you see?
Around
! Ha!”

Patience felt the stirrings of panic. “Yes, I see.” She said soothingly, rising slowly from her seat. “Why don’t we sit down and you can tell--”

“Around!” He jabbed his finger up again and bolted from the room.

“Oh, dear.”
Oh, damn it all to hell
. “I. . .” She gave Lord Casslebury an apologetic smile and edged quickly toward the door. “I have to go.”

Apparently under the impression that she was no longer comfortable standing in the library with him now that their chaperone—if the sleeping gentleman could be considered such-had left them, he smiled and followed.

“Of course. Perhaps I can convince the musicians to play that waltz a bit early and. . .”

His voice trailed off as the elderly man, now half way down the hall, stopped in his tracks to inform a stout, middle-aged maid exiting from a nearby room that “it goes round!” And then, to illustrate his point, grabbed the poor woman about the waist and danced her in a circle.

The maid yelped in surprise. “Good heavens!”

“Oh, no.” Patience moved forward, but the man had completed the revolution, deposited the woman on her feet and bolted down the hall before she’d managed to take more than a few steps. Unwilling to draw more attention to the matter than absolutely necessary, she checked her pace into a brisk walk. When they reached the maid, she was patting her chest and gaping at her
sudden and uninvited dance partner as he disappeared around a corner.

“Are you all right?” Lord Casslebury inquired.

“Oh. . .Aye.” The maid gave a breathless laugh. “Aye. Didn’t do me any harm, that one. Don’t think he meant to.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Patience agreed quickly, and just as quickly resumed her brisk walk down the hall.

“You’re in a great hurry,” Casslebury commented as he stepped up to walk beside her. “Are you eager to see what he might do next?”

It was her fondest wish to remain utterly in the dark on the matter of the old man’s behavior, but she hadn’t that luxury. “Naturally, I’m curious,” she responded in what she very much hoped was an offhand manner.

They reached the ballroom just in time to witness the elderly man pushing his way through the tremendous crush. In his rush, he knocked over a footman carrying a tray of champagne flutes, but he seemed not to hear the shattering of glass on the ballroom floor, nor the angry shouts of guests at the unexpected shower of wine. He simply continued his advance into the room.

“Oh,
no
.” Giving up all hope of appearing merely curious, Patience dashed forward and began to push her way through the throng of people.

The man stopped suddenly at a small group of matrons, grinned broadly at a dour looking woman in a bronze turban, grasped her face with both hands, and planted a loud and rather lewd kiss on her lips. He was gone again before the lady could so much as raise a hand to slap at him.

Next to her, Lord Casslebury appeared caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Who the devil
is
that?”

“I. . .” She elbowed her way further into the room. “I beg your pardon. I believe Mrs. Meldrin is motioning for me for me. I--”

“I don’t see her.”

She made a very broad, very vague wave in the direction of the front hall. “Over there. I have to go.”

“Who is he--?“

Another yelp sounded from somewhere in the room, along with another shattering of glass.

“I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry. I have to go.” Her heart in her throat, she turned away and left him.

She hadn’t the faintest idea where Mrs. Meldrin might be, but she found Caroline at the edge of the ballroom looking rather pale.

“Caroline, did you see--?”

“Yes.” Her friend took her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and led her into the front hall. “He’s gone upstairs.”

“Oh, dear.”

“I’m certain he’ll be fine. And guests aren’t paying him much mind.”

“They paid plenty on the other side of the room. He knocked over footmen, broke heaven only knows what, and kissed Mrs. Lindsey on the mouth.”

“Oh. Well.” Caroline winced sympathetically. “Father’s asked for the carriage to be brought round immediately. As soon as we find--”

The elderly gentleman suddenly appeared at the top of the steps. Still grinning, he bounded down with the exuberance of a man half his age. “Bloody enormous place!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “How do I get out?”