Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (24 page)

The ballroom had been transformed.

The far end of the ballroom glowed in the soft, golden light from several dozen candles, unmatched and clearly pilfered from around the house and installed on tall candelabras.

The lights had been strategically placed to create an intimate area of usable space, cordoned off with two low chaise longues on either end, and several comfortable chairs set off to one side.

There was a table of refreshments also, with a large crystal bowl of lemonade, a bottle of brandy from the cellars, along with several snifters and a platter of petits fours that James immediately pillaged. Isabel could not help but smile at the addition—she would wager that Gwen had spent much of the afternoon working on the tiny pastries.

Every surface gleamed with fresh polish, and Isabel wondered how many of the girls it had taken to turn the unused space into a little mini-ballroom, fit for an evening of dancing. “It is beautiful,” she whispered, forgetting her audience for a moment.

“You seem surprised,” Nick said, quietly.

“I am.” She laughed, a small, delighted sound. “It’s been a decade since this room has been used for its intended purpose. We clean it periodically and use it rarely, but never for balls …” She trailed off, one hand waving absently in the air as she searched for the rest of the sentence. “We don’t have much cause for balls at Townsend Park. We are severely lacking in dance partners.”

He smiled as she laughed again, and bowed low in an exaggerated way. “You have several willing ones this evening, my lady.”

She met his smile with her own. “So we do.”

An interior door to the ballroom opened then, and Georgiana entered, head down, moving quickly, as though she was not interested in the activities of the inhabitants of the room. Isabel opened her mouth to ask if there was something wrong, so surprised was she that the governess—who had been so terrified of being spotted by Nick—would choose to join them. She was stayed from speaking, however, when the young woman sat down at the dimly lit pianoforte, her back to them, and began to play a waltz.

James went to sit with her as Rock bowed to Lara, inviting her to dance. Within seconds, she was in his arms, and the two were floating across the room, Lara’s pale blue silk glittering in the candlelight. Isabel watched them with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, wanting to consider their obvious connection, but altogether too aware of Nick’s nearness.

After an interminably long wait, she was rewarded with his low, deep voice. “Isabel …”

“Hmm?” She tried desperately for a tone of distant interest.

She heard the smile in his words when he said, “Would you care to dance? ”

“Yes, please,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

And then she was in his arms, and they were twirling across the room.

“James’s governess has a gift for the piano.”

“Minerva House boasts many talents, my lord.” Isabel did not want to talk about the girls. She did not want to hide from him. Not now. Not while she was in his arms. “You are an excellent dancer.”

He dipped his head, spinning her around a tall candelabrum and heading off toward the far end of the dance floor. “How it is that you think you cannot waltz?”

“I … I never do …” He turned her again, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the movement, the sheer strength of him, the way that he managed her weight so gracefully, swaying in time to the music.

“You should. Your body was made to be held like this.” The words were soft and lush at her ear, and she knew that he was holding her much too closely. That she should tell him to stop.

But she couldn’t.

They turned once more, and she opened her eyes to face the far wall and the door through which Georgiana had come. It was open again, and a row of curious faces peeked through the space between door and jamb, Gwen, Jane, and Kate all focused on the events inside the ballroom. Isabel could not contain her surprised laugh.

Nick looked down at her. “What is it?”

She looked up, amused, to meet his questioning gaze. “Do not look now, my lord, but it appears that we have an audience.”

He grinned, immediately understanding. “Ah. Yes, if I know ladies, I can imagine we do.”

“To be fair, they are attempting discretion.”

“They are better at it than the women in my family.”

The words, spoken with teasing admiration, made her curious. “Tell me about them.”

He thought for a moment before he spoke. “My half sister, Juliana, is Italian, which makes her everything you would imagine. She is opinionated and infuriating and has a penchant for saying entirely inappropriate things at entirely inappropriate times.”

She was drawn to the laughter in his voice. “She sounds wonderful.”

He gave a little snort of laughter. “You would like her, I think. And I know she would like you—she has no patience for London, or the
ton,
and she has a particular distaste for simpering females and foppish gentleman. Which is going to make it virtually impossible to find her a husband. But really, that’s Gabriel’s problem.”

She smiled. “Ah, the benefits of being the second son.”

“Precisely.”

“And your sister-in-law?”

“Now, Callie will love you.”

She laughed at the words. “I find it difficult to believe that the Marchioness of Ralston will ‘love’ a country-raised northerner who wears breeches when it is practical and has spent most of her life with women who have done entirely inappropriate things.”

Nick grinned. “That is precisely why the Marchioness of Ralston will love you.”

Isabel gave him a frank look. “I do not believe you.”

“Someday, Isabel, I shall take you to London, and you will hear the truth from my brother and sister-in-law themselves.”

Isabel warmed at the promise inherent in the words—the assurance that there would come a time when they would be together in London. When she would meet his family and they would have reason to discuss the private history of one of the
ton
‘s most talked-about couples.

She wanted it to be true.

It was strange. Here, in this darkened room, with the magic of the waltz, and the candlelight, and this strong, wonderful man, she wanted it to be true. She wanted to be tied to him. To be his partner. To have the life that peeked out from behind his words. Here, as she lost herself to the feel of the dance, to the sway of their bodies and the warmth of his arms wrapped around her, she let herself have the dream that she had shut away so long ago.

The dream that let this, her first waltz, be a waltz with a man who would care for her, and protect her, and shoulder her worries, and, yes … who would love her.

Isabel closed her eyes once more and gave herself up to the movement, aware of the place where his hand, unhindered by gloves, spread warmth through her gown to the curve of her waist. She could feel his long, muscled thighs where they brushed against her own as he guided her across the floor in an endless, curving journey. After several long moments, she opened her eyes, meeting Nick’s searing blue gaze.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Isabel? ”

She knew she should be coy. She knew that if he were in London, the woman in his arms would have something brilliant and witty and flirting to say in response. But Isabel had none of those things. “Very much.”

“Good. You deserve to have pleasure in your life. I think you do not allow yourself enough of it.”

She looked away, embarrassed. How was it that this man knew her so well, so quickly?

“Why is that?” The question was soft, a mere breath at her temple. “Why won’t you take your pleasure?”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I—I do.”

“No, beauty. I don’t think you do.” He pressed closer, the warmth of him crowding her thoughts. “Why not dance and laugh and live the way you dream?”

Why not, indeed?

“Dreams are for little girls with no worries,” she said, resisting the words even as she spoke them.

“Nonsense. We all have dreams.”

She opened her eyes, met his brilliant blue gaze. “Even you? ”

“Even me.”

“What do you dream?” The question was exhaled—so breathy that she barely recognized her own voice.

He did not hesitate. “Tonight, I think I shall dream of you.”

She should have found the words silly and teasing. Instead, she heard the promise in them, and wanted nothing more than to believe him. “Tell me what you dream of, Isabel.”

“I should dream of school for James. Of safety for the girls. Of a repaired roof and an unlimited supply of candles.”

He gave a little laugh. “Come, Isabel. You can do better than that. This is not their dream. It is yours. What do
you
dream? For yourself?”

For a long moment, her mind was blank. How long had it been since she had considered her own desires?

She smiled up at him. “I should like to dance more.”

His teeth flashed. “I am happy to oblige.” He spun her in circles in time to the music, and the smattering of candles about the dark room gave the illusion of dancing in starlight. The moment made her believe that if she spoke her desires aloud, they might actually come true.

After a long while, he probed, “What else?”

“I—I don’t know.”

His eyebrows rose. “Nothing? You can think of nothing that you wish? ”

“I would not want to be thought of as selfish,” she whispered.

He captured her gaze in his, arresting her attention. He twirled them to a stop then, and she realized that they were at the far end of the room, where a chaise sat in near darkness.

“Selfish?”

She stared at the indentation on his chin and nodded.

He gave a little huff of laughter, disbelief in the exhalation. “Isabel, you are about the least selfish person I have ever known.”

She shook her head. “It’s not true.”

“Why would you think that? ”

She pressed her lips together, afraid of the answer.

But the desire to share it was too much.

She spoke to his chin. “I—My father gave me a chance to fix it all once. To save the house. The earldom. Everything.” She had never told anyone this. “All I had to do was go to London. And let him arrange a marriage for me.”

“How old were you?” The words were cold, and Isabel felt a sick feeling of dread—imagining that he was judging her actions. As her mother had done.

“Seventeen.”

“You refused.”

She nodded, unshed tears clawing at her throat. “I didn’t want—didn’t want the same marriage my mother had. I didn’t want to be half a woman. Half a person. He left, and never returned. My mother—she died soon after. She blamed me for his desertion.”

He was silent. Unmoving.

She should not have told him. “I am sorry if I have disappointed you.”

His sharp inhalation drew her attention.

One finger beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. She gasped at the emotion there.

“I am not disappointed, love.” The whisper was low and close, so close that she felt more than heard the words. “I am furious.” Her eyes widened as he cupped her face in his hands, turning them to ensure that they were entirely out of the view of the others in the room. She felt the trembling in his fingers. “I wish I had been here. I wish I could have—”

He stopped when she closed her eyes.

I wish you had been here, too.

He traced his fingers down the side of her neck to the place where her pulse was beating out of control.

She did not want to think of the past. Not now. Not when he was so close.

“I wish you would kiss me.”

The raw confession surprised them both.

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Ah, Isabel, if we were anywhere but here …”

She dipped her head at the words. “I know.”

“Do you? Do you know how much I want you?”

She could not look at him. “Yes.”

She felt his thumb run over the soft skin of her wrist, the maddening touch setting her pulse racing. “How do you know? ”

The whisper, dark and coaxing, gave her the courage to look up at him. His eyes were dark—too dark to make out their color in this light—but she could read his thoughts. “Because I want you, as well.”

He growled then, low in his throat, and Isabel felt the noise cut a path right through her, sending pleasure pooling at her core. She started to turn her face away once more, but he stayed the movement with one finger under her chin. “No, beauty. Look at me.”

How could she deny such an urgent demand?

“I am not perfect. I cannot promise you that I will not do things that will hurt you.” He paused, his scar a pale line against his darkened skin. “But I will do everything in my power to protect you and James and these girls.”

He stopped, and she held her breath, waiting for his next words.

“I think you should consider your brother’s proposal.”