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“Yes, it precedes you, I am afraid,” she affirmed.

Although their conversation was playful, their dancing was even more so. He would pull her closer to himself when the music required it of him, and he kept their hands intertwined a moment longer than necessary when the music demanded of him to let her go. It all drove her slowly, silently mad. She could not tell why on earth this man had such an effect on her that she could not think of anything or anyone else.

“That is the reason why a lady must stay away from you,” she clarified.

“And yet, here you are, dancing with me,” he pointed out just as they faced each other, so close that their chests were almost touching. His eyes were mesmerizing, staring right at her, threatening to see right through her and steal all of her secrets for his own.

“Because I am the lesser of two evils?” he asked when he saw that she didn’t know what to say to that.

“Exactly,” she replied, unable to resist chuckling. He charmed her so easily. She wanted to scold herself for having so much fun with him, but it was impossible not to.

“You have a grace about you, Ciara,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate as if they had just kissed again and there was no one else around. The thought made her blush even more than before, and she tried to banish it from the confines of her mind. “A grace that sets you apart from the rest,” he added.

“I’m certain that is what you say to all ladies.”

“No,” he responded quickly. “I only say things I mean. Just like your eyes.”

“My eyes?” she echoed.

“Yes,” he nodded. “They say things your lips do not mean to divulge. Your eyes hold secrets I am dying to uncover.”

Ciara’s breath caught in her throat at his boldness, her heart racing as she struggled to maintain her composure. She knew she should resist his charms, to remind herself of the tales she had heard about him. But there was something about the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel desired and alive, that made it difficult to resist.

As the final notes of the waltz drifted into silence, Jonathan brought their dance to a graceful halt. He held Ciara’s hand in his, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. He led her away from the dancing area where the guests were happily chattering, but Ciara could not hear anything other than the sound of his voice.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Everton,” he said softly, his gaze intense yet filled with a hint of uncertainty. “I hope to dance with you again this evening,” he added, kissing her hand once more then turning around and disappearing in the crowd, leaving her yearning for more, against all reason.

CHAPTER 9

“You seem particularly pleased with yourself,” Hector grinned upon having Jonathan join him by the refreshments table. The two gentlemen huddled in one of the safest corners of the ballroom in hopes of having a private moment to themselves.

“I can only assume it has something to do with the lady you were just dancing with,” Hector added playfully, taking a drink from his glass.

“You assume well, old boy,” Jonathan grinned. “And you can assume that I need a drink of my own.” He went and grabbed himself a drink, walking back confidently to join his friend, as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass he was holding.

“Are you going to tell me the name of the mysterious young lady?” Hector teased. “So, I know whom to thank for perking you right back up.”

Jonathan laughed. “Her name is Ciara Everton.”

Hector’s smile died down as his forehead knotted. “Wait… Everton you say?”

“Yes,” Jonathan nodded.

Hector thought about it for a second more. “The daughter of the Viscount of Hartfield?”

“Yes.” Now, it was Jonathan’s turn to lift an inquisitive eyebrow. “How did you know?”

“Ciara… that name stuck with me,” Hector admitted, pointing somewhere indefinitely with his index finger as if that helped him remember better. “Was not she the one who was sent away to a convent?”

Jonathan’s eyes widened in surprise. “A convent? As in… a nunnery?” he echoed, his mind racing to reconcile this revelation with the captivating woman he had just danced with. Was she… a nun? It could not be.

Hector nodded, his expression contemplative. “Yes, it is all coming back to me now. She has a most unusual name, and it is also unusual to see her here, given her history.”

Jonathan’s thoughts whirled as he tried to piece together the puzzle of Ciara’s past. Before he could voice his confusion, Hector’s eyes lit up with sudden realization. “Wait a moment.Is this the girl connected to that Irish song you were asking me about last time?”

Jonathan could not remember the last time he felt this awkward, the memory of his quest for the mysterious melody finally resurfacing. “Perhaps,” he admitted, seeing there was no other way out. A hint of sheepishness in his tone betrayed him.

Hector’s grin turned to teasing. “Well, well, Jonathan. It seems our rakish hero has found himself quite a challenge. The nunnery girl with an enchanting voice.”