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She could only gape at him in response. Not once, in all the years they had sparred at the edges of ballrooms, had he asked her to dance.

She’d never admitted to herself how much that stung, how much she would have liked to be spun around the floor by a laughing, smiling Freddie.

But now that he had asked, she could not form a response.

Eloisa nudged her with her elbow, the pointy bone digging into her ribs. ‘Ow.’

‘What my friend is trying to tell you—’ Eloisa spoke for her ‘—is that yes, she would love to dance with you.’

Freddie’s lips twitched, and in that moment, Emily could have happily murdered Eloisa, even if that was what she had been thinking. ‘I am?’

‘Yes.’ Eloisa gave her a small shove; really, there was very little pressure, but it was so unexpected, Emily stumbled. Freddie’s hand closed around her arm, his grip tightening to keep her upright.

Emily had replayed her touch on Freddie’s arm a thousand times.

She’d thought she’d imagined how it had made her feel, but it was nothing compared to this.

His fingers were holding her firmly but not tightly.

He wore gloves and hers came up over her elbow, so there really was no reason to feel anything at all.

And yet… she could feel his touch everywhere, tingles racing along her skin, awakening every nerve ending.

‘There is no need to frown quite so fiercely,’ Freddie told her. ‘Dancing is something I can actually do. I will not embarrass you.’

Emily tried to straighten her brow. She had not realised that her forehead had been creased.

‘What are you doing to your face?’ Freddie’s eyes shone with amusement.

This was more like the person Emily was used to, the man who irritated her beyond reason, the man she didn’t fantasise about kissing. It was almost a relief to experience the familiar emotion of annoyance. ‘You told me to stop frowning.’

‘I did,’ he agreed. ‘But I am not sure what you’re doing is an improvement. It looks like you have smelt something unpleasant. I can assure you, I do not smell.’

Instinctively, she leaned towards him and sniffed.

He smelled deliciously of bergamot and of freshly cut grass.

She caught sight of his raised eyebrow and her skin burned; she was messing up her one chance to dance with him by behaving like a candidate for Bedlam.

She held her head up high. ‘You are right, you smell perfectly pleasant.’

He flung his head back and laughed and her heart fluttered oddly. Freddie was always laughing and smiling at something, unless his niece was crying, as it turned out, but making him laugh like this was still new to her and it was a heady experience. She was strangely proud of herself.

They faced each other on the dance floor.

Her breathing was funny, as if she had been running, but the walk across the ballroom had been slow and not very far.

Perhaps she was sickening for something or else Freddie’s presence was starting to have an impact on her being.

She rather feared it was the second of those two.

She’d always thought him handsome, but now she was coming to want to see him, to touch him and be touched and to discover if there really was more to him than there seemed. In short, it was a disaster.

‘What did you mean by your comment about this being the one thing you are good at?’ she asked as they waited for the music to begin.

She’d never really noticed his size before.

Being a tall woman meant that her partner was often the same height as her, which was sometimes a little awkward if the dancing required them to be facing each other closely.

Her head only reached the top of Freddie’s shoulder, which looked like the perfect place to lay it.

If she hadn’t been so close to him, she would have missed the light tinge of pink that briefly crossed his cheekbones. ‘As you know, I am not good at most things, despite the drawing you seemed to enjoy. But I can twirl about a ballroom. A useful skill, I am sure you will agree.’

The violins began their introductory chords and Freddie held out his hand for her to take. She paused, before sliding her hand into his. She thought his breath hitched but she couldn’t be sure.

Her own mind was scrambling, trying to make sense of what she was feeling. Her mouth went dry as her heart raced. She’d danced a thousand times before and never experienced such a rush of bewildering sensations. ‘What things?’ she asked, trying to distract herself from what was happening.

Freddie’s lips twitched. ‘And here I was thinking you were a veritable genius with words and yet I have absolutely no idea to what you are referring.’

‘What is it that you think you are not good at? I saw your drawing two days ago and it was the most beautiful I have ever seen. ’

His smile died and the ghost of some emotion touched his eyes and then it was gone as if it had never appeared. He shrugged. ‘The drawing was nothing special; my jottings will not be hung in any galleries. There are a very many things I cannot do; too many to list.’

The dance separated them and she found herself confronted with a new partner.

His touch did nothing to scramble her mind, but as he tried to make conversation, she found she couldn’t concentrate.

She was sure Freddie was being sincere in his belief he was not good at things, things she was yet to determine.

He was so confident, so much more at ease than she was in social situations.

Next to him, she had always felt somehow inadequate.

It had never occurred to her that he might feel the same way.

‘You are frowning again,’ he said when they reconnected; his own forehead was creased and she realised it was with concern for her. Oh dear, this was very bad indeed. A thoughtful Freddie was a dangerous Freddie.

‘I am sorry.’

‘You don’t need to apologise for not being happy. I just… I thought you might like to dance, but now I see that I have pulled you away from conversing with a friend and I…’

‘I am happy to dance with you,’ she cut in hurriedly. ‘If I am frowning, it is because I am puzzled, not because I am cross.’

‘I see.’ He spun her and when he was supposed to pass her on to another partner, he didn’t. She almost stumbled but he caught her in time, his grip fleeting but firm.

‘Wha…?’

‘Those two are staring lovingly at one another. It would be cruel to separate them.’

Freddie glanced across to the two dancers they should have swapped with; Emily followed his gaze. Sure enough, the younger couple were looking at each other, their mutual adoration shining in their eyes, the look almost too much to bear.

‘See, you are good at that,’ she said. He tilted his head questioningly. ‘Doing something unconventional but sweet.’ Freddie’s mouth swung open but Emily persevered. ‘And you might not think your drawing was anything special, but you are wrong.’

He grinned. ‘Of course I am.’

Prior to this evening, his teasing would have irritated her, but she was starting to understand Freddie.

He made light of situations he found uncomfortable and that realisation didn’t make her feel good about herself.

It followed that she must make him uneasy given that he always spoke to her in such a way.

‘You are a good dancer,’ she added, as he twirled them around the floor.

His fingers flexed and she thought he would say something, but it was time to change partners again and the moment was lost. She half expected him to make some pithy comment when she was returned to him, but he said nothing at all and they danced the rest in silence.

Normally, Emily would search desperately for something to say while she danced, hoping to impress upon her partner her suitability as a wife.

She’d yet to meet a man she wanted to marry, so the discomfort she always found herself in was largely pointless.

There was no such internal debate as Freddie whirled her around the floor.

Instead, she allowed herself to enjoy the strength of his lead, the joy of the movement and the strange, seductive scent of her partner.

Freddie led her back towards Eloisa, who was all but bouncing on the tips of her toes, such was her excitement. He came to a stop several steps away from her friend and turned to Emily. ‘Thank you for the dance, Miss Hawkins.’

Emily curtsied, suddenly shy in front of this man whom she’d known for so long, or whom she had thought she’d known. She was no longer certain that Freddie was the person he appeared .

‘At the risk of ending our entertaining word battles,’ Freddie began, ‘I want to thank you for your compliments and return one, if I may.’

Emily waited but Freddie seemed to be waiting for her permission. ‘Are you asking me if you can give me a compliment in return?’

Freddie nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. ‘I am never sure if you enjoy crossing swords with me whenever we meet and I worry that my compliment is so great you will forever be pleased with me.’

She bit her lip to stop herself from grinning in a very unladylike manner; her mother would not approve. ‘I do think that is stretching it a bit, Mr Dashworth. I may have thought your drawing impressive, but I am sure you will continue to irk me.’

He nodded solemnly. ‘Very well. I see you are prepared to take the risk.’ He cleared his throat and straightened to his full height. ‘You should ignore your mother.’

‘Um…’ In what ballroom was that a compliment? It was an odd declaration at best or an insult to her mother at worst. ‘I do not…’

It was his turn to roll his eyes. ‘I have not finished yet.’

‘I see.’ Perhaps, as a dutiful daughter, she should stop him, but then she remembered the lecture her mother had given her in the carriage ride over and decided it wouldn’t hurt to hear what he had to say. ‘You may proceed.’