The Romany Heiress (14 page)

That fired her blood. She wasn’t about to let his
galling comment ruin an evening she’d waited a lifetime for. When her next partner came to claim her, she
lifted her chin and let him sweep her onto the floor.
This dance was a polka, and she fared better than she
had with the quadrille. She quickly found that there
were no expected figures or patterns and that her partner, the squire’s son, was willing to throw himself into
the fast-paced dance. Soon she was breathless and quite
enjoying herself as he spun her about the floor.

The polka was followed by other gallops and other
rowdy polkas and other men who seemed eager to dance
with her. She knew she was succeeding with fitting in.
They smiled with her, charmed and flirted. “How was
it,” they said, “that Giles had managed to keep such a
lovely cousin hidden all these years?” Oh yes, she was
succeeding.

The orchestra played a waltz, the first of the evening,
and Cate didn’t dare to push her luck. She convinced
her partner, an older gentleman this time that she’d prefer to sit and sip a glass of champagne. He seemed all too happy to oblige. Cate suspected he too was feeling
winded from all the energetic dancing.

There was another polka and then another waltz. Giles
materialized at her side and this time there was no escape.
“I believe it is finally my turn,” he said, drawing her to
her feet from the chaise where she sat chatting between
sets with Cecile and Alain.

“I don’t need to dance. I’ve danced all evening,” she
protested. To her credit, she had watched the dancers
through the first waltz, trying to catalog their steps. The
dance didn’t appear to be overly complicated but it did
appear to be overly intimate. With any of the other gentlemen she’d danced with that night, she would have
been willing to try it. The intimate contact of hands on
waists or hands nestled against the small of backs
would have been pure mechanics with any of them. Not
so with Giles. She doubted she would be able to concentrate on the new steps with Giles so close.

“One cannot attend a ball and not dance the waltz,”
he cajoled, although it was clear he wasn’t looking for
her assent. He had already decided she would dance
with him; another fine example of his high-handed attempts to organize everyone around him. Of course, he
knew she couldn’t protest. Just as it would look awkward if his cousin had an empty dance card, it would
look incredibly suspicious should his cousin refuse the
courtesy of a waltz.

They joined the throng on the dance floor, mostly
younger couples with stamina. “I must warn you-”
she began as they positioned themselves, his hand at her back, feeling as warm and strong as she’d known it
would.

“Ah yes.” Giles smiled down at her. “Tristan told me.
You can’t dance, although you’ve been doing a credible
job of faking it. Perhaps too credible. All your vivacity
is quite noticeable. I thought we’d agreed you’d not call
attention to yourself.”

Cate felt the joy she’d garnered go out of the evening. “What is wrong with vivacity?”

The music started and Giles guided them down the
floor with quick, expert movements.

“I was simply enjoying myself, no small feat after
being put in an untenable position. One that I was put in
on purpose, I might add,” Cate challenged. “How dare
you fill my dance card, when you must have suspected
that I had no notion how to do any of these dances.
Then you complain when I succeed in performing the
role you laid out for me. Did you want me to fall on my
face? Did you mean to humiliate me with my own ignorance? If so, I must inform you that you’ve failed
dreadfully.”

Giles whirled them through a corner, his pique showing in the jerky turn. “I did not set you up to fail. I am a
man of honor,” he ground out. “I may have overlooked
the fact that you wouldn’t know the dances, but you’ve
shown yourself to be capable and a quick study. I
merely wished to caution you against such lively dancing,” he repeated.

The small orchestra began playing a second waltz to
an Irish folk tune. “Ah, `The Last Rose of Summer,”’ Giles said. “A very good selection before going into supper. Shall we sit down? Have you had enough waltzing?”

A spontaneous plan formed in her mind. A saucy
smile quirked at her lips. “No. I find I like waltzing
very much,” Cate responded.

Giles pulled her back into the fray, and Cate took advantage of the moment to fit herself against his frame
so that thighs touched thighs through the thin layers of
her gown. Then she pushed the limits of his honor.
She’d noted with earlier partners that gentlemen felt required to match their steps and pacing to that of their
partners. Cate sped up, gradually pushing them both to
a rapid whirl of turns and revolutions. It was an exhilarating battle-she trying to speed them up and Giles
desperately attempting to keep them respectably sedate.

“I must tell you, Cate,” Giles scolded as they fairly
raced by another couple at the bottom turn, “that the
woman is always in pursuit and that the male leads. He
is responsible for setting the pace”

She snorted at that. How ridiculous and egocentric
of men to place women in the position of “pursuit”
“Are there no lengths a man will not go for the sake of
flattering himself?”

“It is hardly a matter of ego. It is a matter of honor,”
Giles said curtly. “A woman is in the position of pursuit
because it allows her to dance forward and remove the
risk of tripping over her skirts.”

Undaunted, Cate fired back, “A good reason for allowing women’s dresses to be shorter. Then positions wouldn’t matter unless of course such a requirement really was designed for promoting the male ego after all.”

“Cate, I must insist that we slow down. We’re drawing
attention, and we must keep the appropriate distance.”
Giles’s voice held a hint of warning that suggested he
was not even remotely amused by her antics. “If you do
not allow me to control our movements-”

“Then you’ll do what?” Cate broke in, flashing a coy
grin that teased, even as she urged him to greater speed
and refused to give into the steely strength of his arm as
he tried to readjust her position away from him. “I
don’t see what all the fuss is about. I find it much easier
to dance closer anyway, especially if one is worried
about tripping.”

They swung past the doors leading out to the verandah, and Giles maneuvered them neatly into the darkness outdoors. Too late Cate knew intuitively she’d
pushed him too far. His anger was palpable as he led
them down the length of the verandah to a shadowed
place where they wouldn’t be noticed.

“Is all this a joke to you?” Giles began. “I talk of discretion and you constantly flaunt it. You make a mockery of my requests, you call attention to yourself in the
most inappropriate fashion. I don’t want my houseguests to leave tomorrow remembering my `cousin.’
However, after your performance tonight, it will be impossible for the male population to forget.”

“You’re quite the priggish scold, you know,” Cate said
coolly. “I will not be taken to task by a man who’s a slave to propriety.” She turned to walk back to the ballroom,
determined to not let his blue mood sour the evening.

He grabbed her arm. “I am a man of honor who is
bound by his gentlemanly obligations to offer you protection while you’re under my roof, whether I like it or
not. Are you curious to know why those men in there
are not likely to forget you? Or do you already know?”

She said nothing, somewhat numbed by the ferocious
warrior-lord who now replaced the carefully manicured
gentleman. She thought she’d understood Giles Moncrief perfectly-a genteel, handsome, honorable man
who had lived a soft life, faced with few worries or concerns, and consequently, a man ultimately lacking in intensity. She was beginning to see how wrong she was.
His honor was not the soft spot she’d envisioned. It was
his suit of armor and it was without a chink. She had
been wrong about being able to exploit his gentlemanly
code, and she began to worry over what else she might
have been wrong about. Worse, if she’d been wrong,
was Magda, with her cynical explanations, right?

“They think that your vivacious dancing is an invitation for certain attentions of a less gentlemanly nature.
A lady is more circumspect with her dancing and is
conscious of how she displays her virtue.” His voice
was at a low roar.

“Nonsense,” Cate countered. “That is the most outlandish assumption I’ve heard. I was merely having a
good time. Where I come from dancing is for celebration. It is an expression of joy. There are, of course,
dances of a more seductive nature, but I have never engaged in them and I certainly did nothing more tonight than enjoy myself.”

“I assure you, you did far more than enjoy yourself. It
may have escaped your notice that the polka and the
waltz are both closed dances, meaning they involve an
embrace of one’s partner. The polka is saved from scandalous repute because of its speed. However, the waltz is
still considered by many to be shocking because of the
amount of touching.”

“Everyone was doing it. I don’t see the fuss, Giles.”

“No one was doing it your way. There are rules,
Cate. For instance, there must be distance between the
partners so that touching is reduced to the bare minimum.” Exasperation rang in his voice, the secret language of dance clear to her now.

His explanations put an entirely different construction on her interactions with her other partners. She’d
thought they were merely being warm, friendly. Now,
she began to think differently.

She had not been successful tonight. She’d been
foolish. Hot tears burned in her eyes. In the distance,
she could hear the faint strains of a clock sounding the
midnight hour and the bustle of people heading into the
cold collation supper laid out in the refreshment room.

She couldn’t go in there and, perhaps, it would be
best if she didn’t. She’d only cause Giles more embarrassment and herself as well. She was no better than she
ought to be. But that was her private disappointment.
She had a facade to maintain. She wouldn’t let Giles see
her cry.

Tonight was the proof that Magda had been right.
He’d plotted to show her how wide the chasm was between her and the life she hoped to attain. She could put
on a dress and thread her hair with pearls. She could
even dance in the ballroom but it wasn’t enough, not
even close to enough. Actions and appearances masked
hidden messages and nuances that she hadn’t even begun to suspect lay beneath such harmless activities.

“I think I will excuse myself from the rest of the ball.
It’s midnight and the magic is over,” she said bravely,
refusing to apologize.

“I think that would be best. I’ll make your excuses,”
Giles said stiffly, releasing her arm, letting her find her
way circumspectly back to her room.

He had not meant to make her cry. He was fairly sure
he’d caught a tell-tale catch in her voice. But he had to
make her understand how precarious her presence here
was. If he was to set her up in the country somewhere,
she needed a clean reputation. Small hamlets and sleepy
villages were unforgiving places for people of blemished
character. It was imperative that he begin her education
tomorrow as soon as the guests departed. There was
much more she needed to know than what he’d anticipated. Seeing her tonight had shown him how much he
took for granted in his world, a world he’d lived in since
birth. Manners and social protocol were so thoroughly
ingrained in him and yet she knew none of them-a
sharp reminder of the contrast between his rarefied world
and the world that lay beyond it.

Seeing her tonight had also been invigorating. She’d been a breath of fresh air-no that was too cliche, too
understated. She’d been a gust blowing through the ballroom, an exotic dervish. A secret part of himself that he
dare not reveal had thrilled to the sight of her whirling
about the ballroom, her dark hair coming down in tendrils, her face flushed with pleasure at her exertions.
When she had teased him at the last, he’d itched to play
the rake and take her challenge, giving into the impulse
of waltzing with her in the same wild abandon.

Giles leaned on the balustrade and pressed his hands
to his head. What was happening to him? One moment
he was chastising Cate for inappropriate behavior, and
the next he was longing for her in spite of those same
behaviors.

He felt a movement beside him and smelled the familiar vanilla fragrance of a friend. He didn’t need to
look up to know Isabella stood beside him.

“Has she gone up to her chambers?” She asked quietly.

Giles nodded.

“I hope you weren’t too hard on her. Perhaps she
didn’t understand the implications. Our worlds are very
different from one another.”

Giles looked up, brow furrowing with a question.

“After seeing her tonight, I thought I recognized her
from somewhere. Tristan told me. Alain has told Cecile,
just now.” Isabella went on, a gentle hand on his sleeve,
“You’re bearing up admirably. You should know, we all
think you’ve done the right thing by keeping her here until it can be resolved, although I know it must be most difficult on you. The four of us have made some decisions.”

“Decisions?” Giles pressed, suddenly wary.

“Yes, we talked briefly and we’ve decided that we
must stay with you until all is settled. The four of us are
staying on after the guests leave tomorrow to help you
in whatever way we can.”

Giles felt himself smile in the darkness, tension
ebbing from him at the prospect of having his friends
near. It would indeed make the upcoming month, and
whatever lay beyond it, easier to bear. He squeezed Isabella’s gloved fingers. “Thank you. Let me tell you
what I have planned.” He went on to outline his plans for
Cate’s future, feeling relieved that now they all knew.

Isabella listened quietly. When he’d finished, she
said, “Don’t worry, Giles. We’ll take care of everything
just as you’ve taken care of everything for us for so
many years. We are here for the duration.”