Page 107 of A Dare too Far

“Absolutely.” The waltz was intimate and would hopefully remind George of other intimate things they could do together afterward.

Surprising that he wished to dance with her, considering his determination to love her and leave her. But George swept her through the doors and into the swirling crowd with a grin on his lips. And once she circled the candlelit ballroom in his arms, his soft gaze resting on her, she was nearly convinced he enjoyed himself. She tightened her grip on his shoulder, let her body slide a little more toward his.

“You were late this evening,” he said.

“I lost my fan.” Convenient excuse, that.

“And one must have a fan on such a hot day as this.” The corner of his mouth lifted.

“It is always hot in a crush, sir, and your sister and brother-in-law have attracted more people than I saw in some ballrooms during the season.”

“It is a popular event.” His hand slid lower down her back. “Are you well? I have not heard from you.”

“I am. I leave for Whitwood in two days’ time.” How would he react to the news? “I stayed only to tease you tonight, to—in your words, Sir George—seduce you. Just a tiny bit if possible.”

“You seduce me entirely, Lady Jane.”

Her heart raced like a thoroughbred.

“It’s nearly midnight. You gave me precious little time with you this evening. I was hoping for more.”

Her gaze faltered and fell. What was he about? He’d avoided her since Christmas but for the one time in the hack. And now he looked at her like he’d never look away. She watched their feet move like automatons through the practiced movements. One, two, three, one, two, three.

“Jane, look at me.”

She did not.

“Are you avoiding me?”

“Not at all. You are the one avoiding me. And I am taking the time to memorize our dance. Who knows when I will next have this opportunity?”

The strains of music winding the dancers into motion stopped, and so did George and Jane.

“Attention!” Lord Wix appeared above them on a balcony that circled the ballroom, Martha by his side. He looked pale but jolly, and Martha radiated a quiet, confident beauty. “Many of you know our custom. Midnight is almost upon us. I suggest you all find a door and help me”—he turned an adoring gaze to his wife—“uswelcome in the new year.”

The crowd came alive, and George and Jane were almost trampled.

George threaded their fingers together and joined the throng racing to find a door to throw open wide.

“The front door,” George said. “Quick before anyone else claims it.”

“Slow down. Your legs are longer than mine and not hampered by skirts.”

“Run faster. Lift those skirts if you must.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “I know you can.” He winked.

“My kingdom for some trousers.” Jane hiked up her ball gown and increased her pace to match his. Her laughter as they sped through the hall was lighter than air itself. It floated, carrying her into the heavens.

They slid to a halt in front of the front door, panting.

George squeezed her hand. “I told the butler to fight anyone off who got here first.”

“Any door will do, won’t it?”

“No. The front door is more convenient. Shh. The clock is about to strike.”

“Why doors?”

“An old tradition. Throw the doors open to welcome in the new year. Wix insists we all participate every year. Now, Lady Jane—shh.”