Page 15 of Most Ardently (Return to Culloden Moor #5)

15

WHO NEEDS MUSIC?

* * *

F rom her vantage point within the dance, Violet could see Louis seated beside Lady Northwick. Their heads were bent close in conversation, but his eyes frequently strayed to the dance floor, to her. The intensity of his gaze sent a flutter through her chest despite the distance.

More noticeable was what she had observed moments earlier: Louis's polite but decidedly cool interaction with the elegantly dressed newcomer at Mercy’s side. Even from across the room, Violet had recognized the scenario—a carefully orchestrated introduction to a suitable match.

The lady in question was everything Violet was not—fashionable, wealthy, and connected to the best society. Yet Louis had extricated himself from the introduction with barely concealed haste.

“You noticed he declined to dance with her,” the duke remarked casually as they turned together in the pattern of the dance. “Miss Winthrope is reputed to have a dowry of fifty thousand pounds, yet he walked away. That man is made of stern stuff. You are a lucky woman.”

Violet stumbled slightly, caught off guard by her dancing partner’s boldness. “I am sure Lord Astley had his reasons.”

“Indeed he had.” Rochester looked her directly in the eyes. “I believe it was his fondness for all things, all shades… lavender .”

The dance separated them and Violet snapped her gaping mouth shut just in time to smile at a younger man who gave her a sad look. She wasn’t about to wonder what he meant by it. And when she and the duke came together again, he mercifully limited his comments to more general observations about the party.

Yet Violet found herself searching for Louis, since his seat beside Lady Northwick was now occupied by the duchess. But alas, she couldn’t find him. When the set was over, the duke led her over to his wife and Lady Northwick. The latter handed the duchess a small pouch, which seemed immensely entertaining to the duke. And, still laughing, he bowed and left them.

“Your Grace,” Violet said as she curtsied. “Your husband is an odd man.”

“All men are odd,” she replied. “Do not make the mistake of holding out for a man who is not.”

When the music began again, Violet turned to watch and found Louis dancing with the young lady in blue after all. She and the duke had been mistaken.

When she realized how many eyes were watching for her reaction, she lifted her chin and bit her bottom lip to hold it steady. None of these strangers deserved to know her innermost thoughts.

“Will you sit with us,” Lady Northwick asked. But the chairs here were far too close to the dancefloor and made her feel like she were standing at the front edge of a stage.

She declined and took a step, but was stopped by the duchess’ hand on her wrist.

The darling woman smiled up at her and spoke carefully. “Do not let them believe they have chased you away, my dear. Never retreat.”

Tears threatened. “He hasn’t bothered to speak to me all night.”

“The night is young,” Lady Northwick said quietly.

The duchess grinned again. “Has it occurred to you that Astley might not trust himself to be near you? Perhaps he worries he might drop to his knees and pledge his undying love for you, regardless of witnesses.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Really? Perhaps you do not know how impulsive Louis Condiff can be.”

Violet bit her lip in earnest to keep from revealing too much in her expression, for she immediately thought of that first kiss. And all those almost-kisses that were completely inappropriate, which included all those times they were alone together unchaperoned.

“Ah, there,” the duchess leaned toward her friend. “You see? She does know.” To Violet she said. “Now, let us give Louis the benefit of the doubt. Give him time to steel himself. He’ll make you happy in the end. You will see.”

Steady now, Violet relaxed and soon found herself surrounded by ladies eager to make the acquaintance of the mysterious Miss Cottsweather who had appeared so unexpectedly. She answered their polite inquiries as honestly as she could, all the while conscious of Louis and others watching.

The conductor announced a waltz would be forthcoming—a dance that would allow for conversation between partners. Louis moved in her direction, deftly avoiding those who would like his attention. After a few such moves, people simply stood aside and made a path for him…straight to her.

Miss Winthrope suddenly stepped into his path and said something that made him pause. Violet watched, heart pounding, as Louis responded, gave a polite bow, then continued. Whatever the pretty woman had said, it had not deterred him.

Finally, he stopped before her and bowed. The young women around Violet took a step back, but didn’t go far, eager to hear whatever he had to say.

“Miss Cottsweather,” he said, as if they were the only two on earth. “Would you do me the honor of this waltz. Then, perhaps you would accompany me to the terrace? The night air is uncommonly fine.”

Violet glanced at the open terrace doors, where a few couples had already sought respite from the heat and noise of the ballroom. “That would be most welcome, Lord Astley.”

They took to the dance floor and he held her hand as they waited for the music to begin. “You take my very breath, Violet,” he whispered. “I worried my very heart might stop if I came too close. A right coward. Forgive me.”

A smile insinuated itself on her lips and refused to leave, but she was able to stifle a giggle. “Forgiven, sir. Utterly and completely.”

The music started. They moved into position, then began on the upbeat. Her flesh warmed where he touched her, despite how many layers of fabric separated them. They both noticed the attention of the other dancers and the crowd beyond, and when their gazes collided, they both burst out laughing.

From that moment, through the rest of the dance, they said nothing aloud, and ignored their audience. With attention only for each other, and their steps, and the music, they laughed again and again at the sheer joy of the moment, of the twirling, of the ease at which their bodies were moved by the music itself.

Then, in the periphery, she heard laughter, men clearing their throats. Something was wrong. Her smile faltered and she looked to Louis to see if he’d heard it too. At the same moment, they realized the music had stopped, and they forced themselves to stop.

They couldn’t know how long ago the music had ceased, but it was clearly long enough for all the other couples to have left the dance floor.

Their humiliation didn’t last, however, since the room burst into applause, as if their simple steps had been the most clever ever danced to a waltz. And laughing once more, they hurried out the terrace doors.

Outside, the Scottish night was crisp and clear, and stars were scattered across the velvet darkness like so much diamond dust. Torches had been placed at intervals along the balustrade, providing islands of warm light without fully dispelling the shadows.

Louis guided Violet to a corner away from the other couples. The music from the great hall-turned-ballroom drifted out to them, muted by distance, low enough not to drown out conversation.

“You have impressed them all,” Louis said, nodding toward the house. “No one would guess how you spent the last days as someone else.”

The idea brought her up short. Had she been pretending to be someone else? Or was she doing so now? It was impossible to tell, for she had felt quite herself while working for Mrs. Finch. Unpleasant tasks were a daily routine for her now.

“What is it? Have I said something to offend you?”

She shook her head and laughed lightly while she explained her struggle.

He laughed in response. “Oh, my dear Violet. It will never matter what you wear. You will always be my unrepentant Violet, in a ballroom or on your knees cleaning mud from the floor, polishing silver and quoting Shakespeare. You are incapable of hiding who you are, which is what drew my attention from the beginning.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “How is it you can relieve my mind with so little effort?”

“I do not know. Perhaps I see something of myself in you. Perhaps,” he took a step closer and gathered her hands in his, “if I look deep into your eyes, I can see my own soul staring back at me. For I, too, do not feel comfortable yet in the new costume I’ve been handed.”

“Then you should take your own advice. Just continue to be Louis Condiff, and the rest of us will recognize your true self.”

A massive shadow loomed up beside them and blocked the light from the torches.

“Miss Cottsweather, Astley.” Ashmoore’s deep voice always startled her.

She curtsied. “Lord Ashmoore.”

“Sir,” Louis said, and released her hands, but didn’t step away.

“You will not mind, Old Sock,” Ashmoore said, “if I want to dance with my neighbor?”

Given the long pause, Violet wondered if Louis might refuse the man, but eventually, he nodded and stepped back, leaving her to take the arm Ashmoore offered.

The tall man was chuckling before they reached the terrace doors.

“Do tell, my lord.”

“Poor Astley. He sees you as Cinderella.”

She stiffened. “A maid only pretending?—”

“No. No, not that. He thinks all this will end, if not at midnight, then soon after. And I am stealing precious time away from him. That is what I meant.” He led her to the dancefloor just in time. When another waltz began, he swung her around with care, given their disparate sizes, but she still shivered at the power of his every move.

Dangerous indeed.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

“I cannot imagine why, my lord.”

“Please. We are friends now. And I treat my friends like family. So you will call me Ash.”

She laughed. “I certainly will not.”

He gave her a stern look that immediately convinced her people rarely defy him. “You will. And if you refuse, I shall turn my wife loose on you until you do.”

“Lord Ashmoore always gets his way, does he?”

He gave a quick nod and a rare smile. “Nearly as often as my ladywife.”

“I suggest smaller steps then. I shall attempt to call you Ashmoore.”

“That will do.”

“So, Ashmoore, why do you owe me an apology?”

“I have been remiss as a neighbor. I can only blame the fact that I am blinded, completely, by my love for my wife. I rarely look beyond her. I righted matters here, and in the village, but I did not look beyond that. I never noticed Durrafair or considered the family living there. I am sorry for the loss of your father.”

“He died before you came?—”

“Still. I am sorry.”

“Thank you.”

She was grateful for the slight breeze swirling around them that kept her eyes dry. With so many people watching it wouldn’t do to start blubbering like a lassie because an intimidating man was kind to her.

“Brace yourself,” he said, as the music came to an end. “Your other new friends intend to make Louis squirm.” He gestured to someone behind her and she turned to find Lord Northwick and the Marquess of Harcourt waiting to dance with her. Stanley leaned against a carved pillar not far away, smiling and waving his fingers, promising he would take another turn as well.

What they didn’t know was that they were making her squirm as well, for she wanted nothing more than to return to Louis under the stars.

Harcourt dodged around Northwick, scooped up her hand, and laughed.

Or maybe they knew all too well...