Page 19 of The Defiant Governess (Intrepid Heroines #6)

Saybrook pushed his chair back and stretched his legs out in front of him.

He swirled the brandy absently as he stared at the massive oak table.

What in devil’s name had prompted him to say such an improper thing?

She was so interesting to talk to that it was easy to forget she was only a green girl of barely twenty, innocent of the cynical mores of the ton.

Sighing, he took a long sip of his drink.

It was perhaps a little wicked of him, but he did enjoy goading Miss Langley to anger—not that it took much!

Her sapphire eyes lit up so intensely, her chin jutted out in such a beguiling way.

Why, she looked more than just plain, even with her hair pulled back in such a severe, unbecoming way.

He found himself wondering just what her figure was like underneath the shapeless, oversized dresses she wore.

Were her breasts as firm and shapely as they sometimes seemed through the coarse material?

And was her waist as slim as it appeared in her riding habit?

What would her willowy form look like in a ball gown, with her shoulders bared.

His eyes strayed back to the table … Ye gods, what was he thinking!

He slammed the glass down and stalked out of the room.

Another rainy day. Jane watched the drops trace long, squiggly patterns down the glass panes as she sat at the piano.

She had felt strangely out of sorts since the previous evening.

Perhaps it was the result of the brandy, but she didn’t think so.

It was just as well that Peter had run off to the stables to help the under groom polish tack, leaving her with a free hour.

She thumbed restlessly through a sheaf of music but nothing appealed to her.

Finally she settled on a waltz. Perhaps its lilting melody would serve to lift her spirits.

Her fingers started slowly, grudgingly, picking up the tempo as she went along.

Indeed, it was hard to remain blue-deviled while playing such a piece.

So caught up was she in the music that she was unaware of Saybrook’s presence until he leaned casually over the piano, his elbows resting on the polished wood. Her fingers came to a stop. He reached down and began playing where she had left off.

“Have you ever waltzed?” he asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“What do you think, my lord,” she answered evasively. “Though it must be rather fun.” She thought longingly of the few dances she had been allowed to have after being approved by the Patronesses at Almack’s.

“So it is.” He kept playing. “Would you care to try?”

“Good Heavens, of course not. It wouldn’t be proper!”

“Ah, haven’t been approved by the Dragons at Almack’s?” he teased. “No matter. The rules are always more relaxed at a country home. Come, I hadn’t thought you so poor-spirited as to be afraid of trying something new.”

“I’m not afraid,” she mumbled, turning away from him.

“Good!”

He stopped playing but kept humming the tune in his rich baritone. Taking her by the elbow, he guided her out to the middle of the floor.

“Now put your hand on my shoulder like this,” he said as his arm slipped around her waist. The steps are rather simple—just follow me.”

He began humming again, his mouth close to her ear. She could feel the heat from his chest against hers, and the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back. He moved with a natural grace that made the dance seem effortless. Their steps flowed together as if they were one.

Jane relaxed, letting herself draw closer to him.

Gradually he picked up the tempo and they swirled around the room.

As if by magic, she could hear violins and piano, feel the layered silk of an evening gown, see the glittering of candles and crystal, inhale the fragrance of orange blossoms and roses.

When she chanced to look up, she found him smiling at her, a strange warmth in his sea green eyes.

Shyly, she smiled back.

“Miss Jane! Uncle Edward! What are you doing?” Peter was standing in the doorway, watching them quizzically.

The spell was broken. Jane dropped her arm and pulled quickly away from the marquess. To her dismay, she could feel a deep blush creeping up her face.

“I am showing Miss Langley a waltz, imp,” called Saybrook.

“Can I learn, too?”

Saybrook laughed. “When you are older.”

“Are you ready for your lesson?” Jane smoothed at her skirts trying to hide her embarrassment.

Peter scampered towards the instrument, but Saybrook took Jane’s arm as she turned to go. He was still smiling. “You dance very well, Miss Langley. You must promise me the first waltz if by chance we meet at a ball.”

“What fustian, sir. You are teasing me again.”

“Indeed I am not. Come, give me your promise.”

Instead of lessening, the color in her face deepened. “Oh, very well,” she breathed, in order to make him release her arm. His touch was beginning to make her feel lightheaded. “Though you are being quite ridiculous.”

Saybrook bowed to her in mock solemnity and left the room, the smile still on his lips.