then, what did it matter, really? Once he’d spent half an hour stepping over the bodies she’d no doubt strew across the dance floor, he would never come anywhere near her again.
Oh, dear. It had been so pleasant daydreaming about her encounter with him this morning. She’d actually been witty for a few moments. But now she had a horrid feeling that she was only ever going to be able to cringe when she looked back on what was likely to happen during the course of the next half-hour.
She felt his arm, upon which she’d rested her hand in the requisite manner, stiffen.
‘Brave? What do you mean?’
‘To ask me to dance,’ she confessed miserably.
‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘But it was the only way I could think of to get an introduction. Wondering what your name could really be has been tormenting me all day.’
‘Oh, well, if that is all, we don’t need to go through with it. We could just go to the tea room...’
‘Tea won’t be served for another hour at least,’ he said swiftly. ‘And...er...’
‘You have no taste for cards? Neither do I. In fact, Grandfather won’t even buy me a subscription for the card room. Says it is a waste of money.’
‘Playing cards at all is a waste of money,’ he said grimly.
She shot him a startled look. And, since the crowded room obliged them to walk very close together, she could see the clenched plane of his jaw quite distinctly.
‘Besides, I would much rather dance with you.’
‘Really? But I thought...’
‘Thought what?’
‘Well, I was just going to say that, this morning, I thought you looked quite sensible.’
A bark of laughter escaped his lips. But then he turned his head and looked down at her.
‘Sensible and brave. My, my. Two compliments in such rapid succession. Miss Hutton, you will turn my head.’
‘No, I didn’t mean, that is...’ She felt her cheeks heating as her thoughts, and her tongue, became hopelessly tangled. How she wished she had more experience of talking to men. Well, single men, who’d asked her to dance with them, that was. Then she might not be making quite such a fool of herself with this one.
‘I will make a confession,’ he said, leaning close to her ear so that his voice rippled all the way down her spine in a caressing manner.
‘Will you?’ She lost her ability to breathe properly. It felt as if her lungs were as tangled as her thoughts.
‘When I looked in upon the ballroom, earlier, and saw how few people were actually dancing, and how many were watching, my nerve almost failed.’
‘Well, it is just that there are not that many people here who are fit enough to dance. But they do enjoy watching others. And then...’
‘Giving them marks out of ten, I dare say,’ he finished for her.
‘Yes, that’s about it. And I’m terribly sorry, but—’
‘Oh, no,’ he said sternly. ‘You cannot retreat now. We are almost at the dance floor. Can you imagine what people will say if you turn and run from me?’
‘That you’ve had a narrow escape?’
‘That I’ve had...’ He turned, and took both her hands in his. ‘Miss Hutton, are you trying to warn me that you are not a good dancer?’
She nodded. Then hung her head.
She felt a gloved hand slide under her chin and lift her face. And saw him smiling down at her. Beaming, in fact. As though she’d just told him something wonderful.
‘Then, you are not going to berate me when I tread upon your toes?’
‘I... Is that what your dance partners normally do?’ When he nodded, ruefully, she welled up with indignation. ‘How rude.’
‘I shall remind you that you said that, after you have suffered the same fate.’
‘I suspect that you will be too busy regretting having asked me to dance at all to remember anything I said beforehand.’
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘Because I have no...’ She tried to wave her hands to demonstrate her lack of coordination, only to find them still firmly clasped between his own. ‘And people do try to get out of my way, but...’
‘I can see that this is going to be an interesting experience for both of us,’ he put in.
‘And for the spectators.’ The walls would probably soon be resounding to the screams of pain from the other dancers and the laughter of those watching her mow her way through the others in her set like a scythe through ripened wheat. At least, that was how her very last dance partner had spoken of her performance after he’d returned her to her seat, mopping his brow. It was funny how people assumed, because she couldn’t see very well, that she couldn’t hear, either. They seemed to think they could talk about her freely, and often very rudely, and get away with it.
And because it was easier to pretend she hadn’t heard, than to confront them and make a scene, Lizzie had learned to keep her face frozen into what another local youth had described as being very like that adopted by a cow when chewing the cud.
And what a cud he was.
‘Yes,’ he said, turning and leading her on to the dance floor where she could see the dim outlines of other people forming a set. ‘Let us give them something worth watching.’
Harry’s cravat felt too tight. And sweat was trickling down between his shoulder blades, giving him an almost uncontrollable urge to scratch at it. Or tear off his neck cloth.
It was pretty much the way he’d always felt before going into battle. The determination to go through with the grim task in spite of knowing that whatever strategy he followed, there were bound to be injuries. This time, to a young woman who would have no idea she was a deliberate target.
He gritted his teeth. He’d told Rawcliffe he’d do whatever it took. And once he’d learned how pivotal Miss Hutton was to the success of their scheme, he’d assured both him, and later Becconsall, that he was the best man for the job. Rawcliffe had assured him that this part of it would be simple, that Miss Hutton would be so grateful for any attention any eligible young man might give her, she would fall into his hands like a ripe plum. Which might be true, but he would wager that neither Lieutenant Nateby nor Captain Hambleton would be sweating like this if either of them had drawn the long straw. Or be feeling as though, at any minute, one of the assembled Bath gossips would point the finger and expose him as an impostor. Nor did it give him any comfort to reflect that the only one of the candidates Rawcliffe had summoned to that interview who would have been having a harder time, at this precise moment, would have been Lieutenant
