jocular voice that he commonly adopted with his younger relatives. “’Twould be my honor to take a twirl about the floor with you. Enjoying yourself, eh?”
Callie resigned herself to a dance with the man, reasoning that it would be easier to avoid conversation with him while they were dancing. She was pleased to find, when they took to the floor, that it was a sprightly country dance, which allowed little breath or time for talking, though it was unfortunately a good deal longer than a waltz. She found herself glancing around the floor as they went through the steps, looking for the curving plume of a Cavalier hat.
Then she had time to do no more than smile and listen to his thanks for the dance before her hand was claimed by her next partner, Mr. Waters. She knew Mr. Waters only slightly, having met him once before, and she had the faint suspicion that the man was probably angling for a wealthy wife, but at least he was a witty conversationalist and a smooth dancer.
When their dance ended, Mr. Waters suggested a stroll around the room, and Callie agreed. It was almost ten o’clock, which meant that the dancing would shortly cease and soon the guests would start making their way to the supper that would be laid out in the smaller ballroom across the hall. Callie feared that her grandmother would approach her with some “appropriate” escort to lead her in to supper, so she would just as soon stay out of the duchess’s sight for the next few moments.
They started around the periphery of the room, with her escort making polite conversation about the grandness of the ball, the liveliness of the music and the warmth of the room after the dancing. He paused at one of the doors, open to the terrace to let in some of the refreshingly cold evening air.
“Ah, that is much better, is it not?” he said. “One can grow quite heated dancing.”
Callie nodded absently, thinking that perhaps Mr. Waters was not so interesting a conversationalist as she had thought. She glanced around the room and finally spotted her grandmother. The old lady was engaged in conversation with Lord Pomerance, and Callie stifled a groan. Surely her grandmother would not inflict that insufferable windbag upon her! He was younger than Mr. Carberry and less stodgy, but his sense of self-importance was overreaching, and he was certain that everyone around him was deeply interested in all the minute details of his existence.
“Those two have the right idea,” Mr. Waters continued.
“What?” Callie’s gaze was fixed on her grandmother.
Her companion nodded toward the terrace beyond them. “Stepping outside for a bit of fresh air.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
The duchess turned her head, searching the room, and Callie knew that she was looking for her.
Callie whipped around so that her back was to her grandmother. “Yes,” she said quickly. “You are right—a breath of fresh air.”
She slipped out the door. Her surprised escort hesitated for a fraction of a second, then grinned and hurried out after her.
Callie walked swiftly away from the ballroom toward the darker reaches of the terrace. The winter air was chilly against her bare arms and neck, but, warmed as she was from dancing in the stuffy room, it was at the moment quite welcome. She stopped when they reached the railing that marked the end of the upper terrace, well beyond where her grandmother might see if she looked out the door from the ballroom.
“I am sorry,” she told her companion with a quick smile. “You must think me quite mad, rushing out here this way.”
“Not mad. Impetuous, perhaps,” Waters replied with a smile and reached out to take her hand in both his. “I can only assume that you were as eager as I to be alone.”
As Callie watched in stunned amazement, he raised her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it, then said, “I had not realized—I had hoped, but I did not dream that you might return my affection.”
“What?” Callie tried to tug her hand from his, but Waters was holding on to it too tightly.
She saw now the mistake she had made in her impulsive rush to escape her grandmother’s manipulations. With some other gentleman, one whom she knew better, it would have been all right. He would have laughed about her predicament with the duchess and promised to come to her aid. Mr. Waters, obviously, had jumped to the wrong conclusion…or perhaps he had simply seen a golden opportunity to advance his suit with her. Callie could not forget her suspicions that the man was an opportunist.
She took a step back, but he followed her, still holding her hand and gazing down fervently into her face as he said, “You must know the depth of my feeling for you, the love that burns in my heart….”
“No! Mr. Waters, I fear that you have misunderstood,” Callie replied firmly. “Pray, let go of my hand.”
“Not until you have answered me. Lady Calandra, I beseech you, make my dreams come—”
“Mr. Waters, stop!” With a heave, Callie tore her hand from his grasp. “I am sorry that I inadvertently gave you the wrong impression, but, please, let us put an end to this conversation.”
She started to walk past him, but Waters grabbed her arms, holding her in place.
“No, hear me out,” he said. “I love you, Calandra. My heart, my soul, burns for you. I beg you, say that you care for me, too, that there is in your heart a spark that—”
“Stop this at once,” Callie commanded. “Let us go back inside, and we shall forget that this ever happened.”
“I do not want to forget,” he told her. “Every moment with you is precious to me.”
Callie gritted her teeth. His flowery words grated on her, and with each passing moment she was more convinced of his insincerity. This man did not care for her, only for her large dowry, and she no longer had any concern over hurting his feelings.
“I would wager that you would like to forget this moment if I tell my brother about it!” she snapped, and tried to jerk away from him.
His fingers dug into her arms, keeping her from leaving. He grinned, the loving mask dropping from his face as easily as it had come. “Your brother?” he asked derisively. “You intend to tell the duke that you have been dallying with a man on the terrace? Go ahead. Tell him. I imagine he will insist on an engagement immediately.”
“You are a fool if you think that,” Callie shot back. “I have not been dallying with you, and when I tell him what has happened, you will be lucky if he does not hand your head to you.”
“Really?” His eyes brightened with a dangerous light. “And will he be so ready to dismiss me with your reputation compromised beyond repair?”
He jerked her to him and bent to kiss her.
“Oh!” Callie let out a low cry of anger and frustration, and brought her hands up, pushing at him as she twisted and squirmed, turning her face away from him. She kicked out, landing a shot square on his shin.
Waters cursed as he struggled to control her, dragging her across the terrace to pin her against the wall. Callie felt the rough stone through the thin material of her dress, and she dug her fingers into the man’s shirt, gripping whatever flesh she could and twisting. He let out a gratifying yelp.
Then, in the next instant,
