The Saint Who Stole My Heart: A Regency Rogues Novel (33 page)

“Really, my boy. You need to propose and marry her already,” Victoria urged Dash, swatting at him with her silken fan.

Dash rubbed his forearm where the weapon had made contact and continued to watch Elena converse with Lady Mowbray and Lady Mayhue just at the edge of the dance floor. “What on earth are you talking about, Your Grace? And where is Lady Charlotte?”

“At home with a headache.” She whacked him a second time. “Now, please. You look at her as though she were a ripe, red apple and you a half-starved horse. Bessie cannot stop talking about the match she’s made.”

“Match? Made?”

She moved to hit him again, but Dash captured the fan, wanting to break it in half, but resisting the temptation to do so.

“Well, yes. Apparently, she is the reason that you two fell in love. Some nonsense having to do with a number of ton parties,” she paused, raising one eyebrow as she considered. “The opera or something. I cannot remember because I admittedly was not giving the woman my full attention, but the opera figures into the story.”

“And whom, exactly, has she told this to?” Dash asked, fingering the sticks of the fan with careful concentration.

Victoria looked at him with shock, then thumped his
arm with her hand. “Really, you mooncalf. My sister would not spread rumors.”

Dash looked the woman straight in the eye, quirked his eyebrow, and waited.

“Oh, all right. Of course, she spreads rumors,” Victoria conceded. “But she would never do so when it came to certain persons, you being one of them.”

Dash’s brow dropped and he gave the fan back to Victoria. “I suppose you are correct.”

She offered him a small, stiff smile, and then whacked him one last time—and with markedly more effort than the first three attacks. “You suppose? Really, my boy. The mere fact that you questioned me to begin with deserves a proper set down, but it looks as though Miss Barnes is coming this way—so I will spare you.”

Dash covered his upper arm protectively with one hand and smiled, all too aware that any further argument would be in vain. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Of course, young man. And now you owe me a kindness. I’ll not forget,” she replied, watching as the ladies made their way toward them. “Now, do be a gentleman and refrain from drooling, won’t you?” She waved the fan in warning.

Dash regretted not having broken the fan when he’d had the chance.

Bessie and Elena joined the two, the marchioness smiling with obvious pleasure while Elena looked decidedly displeased.

“Really, Miss Barnes. You look as though you recently swallowed a spider,” Victoria offered in greeting.

Bessie gave her sister a critical glare. “She does not. That is simply how she looks when she is delighted to accept an invitation for tea at Lady Mayhue’s home on Tuesday afternoon.”

Elena looked at Dash pleadingly while she sipped her punch with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

“Bessie, I thought the two of you had reached an agreement as to how many outings Elena would endure—that is, attend, while in town,” Dash said in her defense.

The marchioness pretended to look surprised, but gave up any effort as all three in the group looked back at her with complete astonishment. “Oh, all right. Yes, we decided on a number. But what was I to do? Lady Mayhue was absolutely smitten with Miss Barnes—which, by the way, my lord, is the proper way to refer to her,” she said, winking conspiratorially at each of them. “ ‘Elena’ is rather too personal—or would you not agree?”

Elena gasped and choked on her mouthful of punch.

“Really, Bessie. Now look at what you have done. The girl might die all because you could not keep your observations to yourself.”

Elena coughed a second time and Dash took the cup from her. “Ladies, if you’ll be so kind,” he began, handing the punch to Bessie while gently thumping Elena on the back. “I believe that I will show Miss Barnes the Marbles.”

Elena gasped twice, holding up her hand as she coughed, and then drew several deep breaths and composed herself. “That would be lovely, Lord Carrington.”

“Yes, lovely. Here, Victoria, do hold this,” Bessie added, shoving the cup toward Victoria. “Though I have seen them before, I always find them quite inspiring.”

Victoria refused the cup and whacked her sister on the arm with her fan. “As do I.”

Elena elbowed Dash in the side, her brow furrowing.

“Actually, I believe I am in the mood for dancing,” he corrected himself.

Elena’s eyes rounded and she elbowed him a second time.

God Almighty. I will be black-and-blue from head to
toe after tonight
, Dash thought to himself as he placed Elena’s hand on his arm.

There was little that could be done now. And besides, surely dancing a good distance away from the two hovering Furies had to be preferable to viewing the Marbles in their presence. Surely.

“A waltz, how daring!” Dash said pleasantly, leading Elena onto the dance floor. “A good excuse to keep my arms around you.”

Elena attempted to root her feet to the edge of the floor, but had very little luck against Dash’s greater strength and subtly insistent tugging.

“Are you all right?” he asked worriedly, looking about at their fellow dancers, and then searching the crowd beyond. “Has something alarmed you?”

The music began and Dash held out his hand for Elena to take.

“No, nothing alarming,” she said as quietly as possible while still being heard.

Dash’s jaw relaxed a bit and he smiled. “Good. Now, take my hand.”

Elena stared at Dash. “I cannot.”

Dash dropped his arm, took her hand in his, and then embraced her waist. “Yes, you can, you see. As simple as breathing.”

Elena did not see the point in mentioning that currently, she couldn’t do that either.

The couples surrounding them began to dance, elegantly twirling to the music as if they were born to do just that.

Dash looked down at her and smiled. “Are we ready then?”

“No!” she hissed, feeling foolish. “Dash, I cannot dance. I will embarrass both of us. Everyone will stare—and
whisper, if I recall such things correctly. Trust me. You do
not
want to do this.”

“Come now,” he replied reassuringly. “I am barely proficient myself. We’ll muddle through—together. Besides, I am sure that you’re not nearly as bad a dancer as you think you are. You just have not had an opportunity to practice in the last several years.”

Elena wanted to believe him. After all, she’d not danced since her one season in London. Perhaps it was something that came more naturally as one grew older. Like, well, Elena could not think of one single undertaking that fell into such a category. But that was beside the point.

She smiled affectionately and moved her right foot, allowing Dash to lead her in the first movement. She followed with her left, a glimmer of hope rising in her mind.

Was it possible that she was actually dancing and not simply watching her partner endure a torturous turn about the floor? She tilted her chin up proudly, wishing now that everyone would watch as she triumphantly danced with the man she loved.

And then she promptly stepped on Dash’s foot.

She stopped abruptly, managing to nearly cause a collision with other dancers on the floor. “I told you,” she whispered, a painful bubble of shame clogging her throat.

She had come so far. And yet, here she was, reminded of her awkwardness and inabilities—and feeling it just as deeply.

“Then we will improvise,” Dash replied, squeezing her waist lovingly. “Now, stand on my feet.”

Elena looked about at the other couples as they danced around them, their curious faces only making Elena feel worse. “I can’t—I won’t. Please, don’t make me do this.”

He pulled her in closer and bent to whisper in her ear. “Trust me. Now, place your feet on top of mine.”

Elena was not entirely sure that the situation could get any worse. So she did as Dash asked and placed her small slipper-shod feet on top of his large ones.

He gripped her hand tightly in his, looked down into her eyes, mouthed “here we go,” and they did. He suddenly began to move, his feet expertly executing the steps—all with hers balanced atop.

It took Elena a moment to capture her balance, but once she did, she honestly began to enjoy herself. It was something she had never expected to happen.

But wasn’t that the theme of her London stay? Everything that she’d assumed about herself, her life—her very place in the world—had been tossed up in the air, blown about in the wind until she’d not known up from down, and then gently settled back on the ground. Some pieces could be found, while others had disappeared entirely, lost in the sky forever.

And this was not a bad thing, she realized with a start. Not a bad thing at all.

“You, Elena, are a brilliant dancer,” Dash assured her, smiling widely. “You only needed the right partner.”

Elena relaxed her head back for a moment and giggled, the sensation very much as she would imagine flying felt like for a bird.

They twirled again, and then settled into the strong movement of the dance.

She wanted to preserve the moment in time. Tuck it away and pull it out every now and again when she needed reassurance. Because, Elena knew, without a single, solitary doubt, that in the future she would have questions and disbelief, self-doubt and misgivings. And suddenly, that was all right.

The music came to an end and Dash slowed their
pace, finally stopping and gently setting Elena back on her feet.

They clapped politely, and then Dash captured Elena’s hand in his and pulled her toward the edge of the room. “Come quickly, before the Furies see us. I want the honor of showing you the Marbles all to myself.”

“I could not agree more,” Elena replied, holding tightly to his hand.

Dash would have happily watched Elena viewing the Marbles for the rest of his life. Her delight was nothing short of childlike as she gleefully examined each and every detail, her mouth forming an enchanting “O” of awe as she reached out her fingertips to touch the smooth marble, stopping out of respect just short of laying her hand on the art.

“Go on,” Dash whispered, looking about to make sure no one was near. “Touch it. We’re the only ones here. Who would know?”

Appalled, Elena snatched her hand away as though she’d been burned. “I would know, that’s who!”

But her crossness faded almost as quickly as it had appeared when she caught sight of the figure of Dionysus. “Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed, catching up the skirt of her silk dress and hurrying to where the sculpture was displayed near the back of the room.

Dash followed behind at a slower pace, acutely aware of how perfect the night was. Not that he cared a whit for the sculptures. The Greek statues were things to be treasured, but they were nothing compared to Elena.

No, it was that he was there at the Elgin Ball with Elena—and nothing else. And for a moment, he’d forgotten all about Lady Afton. He’d let go of Langdon and Sophia—even Nicholas and his quiet rage. Dash had twirled Elena about the dance floor, thinking only
of her comfort and how he would cherish her for the rest of their lives.

He’d glimpsed what his life could be. And he wanted more.

“There you are,” a male voice said.

Dash turned away from Elena and looked behind him, seeing Nicholas approach.

He needed more time with Elena. But he could not have it. Not until they dealt with Smeade and put the nightmare behind them.

“Hiding among the Marbles,” Dash replied, turning back to watch Elena’s rapt contemplation of the marble statues just a little longer.

Nicholas joined him. “From the Furies, more like.”

“They are only two this evening, which dilutes their potency a touch,” Dash offered, looking wryly at his friend. “But yes, that is precisely what we are doing.”

The two men stood quietly, gazing upon a marble centaur.

“I do not believe I have ever witnessed an individual quite so enthusiastic about such things,” Nicholas remarked, watching as Elena pointed at various details, posed questions to herself, out loud, and answered in the same manner.