Page 11

“Eight years,” Meredith whispered. She looked over at him.

His face was carefully expressionless, but she had the distinct feeling he was about to rebuke her.

With a start she realized he must be experiencing the same feelings of loss and regret and pain that she felt.

It was as if this meeting had brought to the forefront a wealth of shared memories of Lavinia—tragic, sad memories.

Dimly Meredith heard the strains of music as the orchestra began to prepare for the next dance. She assumed the marquess would be most anxious to depart from her company, for she now understood why her unexpected presence could be considered unwanted and unwarranted.

She nearly let it happen. Yet before the back of her throat closed completely with emotion, Meredith blurted, “Will you dance with me, my lord?”

The marquess said nothing. His head tilted, his golden brows pulled together in puzzlement.

“I own I consumed a fair amount of wine with my dinner, a drink of whiskey upon my arrival, and two glasses of champagne, yet I am not so far gone I cannot remember the rules of polite society. Ladies do not ask gentleman to dance.”

His frown deepened. “Or has there been some cataclysmic event that has changed everything we know to be proper and correct? If that is true, I am damned sorry to have missed it.”

“Neither of us have ever subscribed to the dictates of polite society. Besides, you just said damn in my presence, proof positive you do not think of me as a lady. And if I am not a lady then I am not bound by any silly rules of convention.” She slowly let out her breath and slanted an amused look in his direction.

“So, my lord, will you dance with me? I believe the next set is to be a waltz.”

“You always had a reputation for being unconventional, Lady Meredith, not scandalous. Shall I assume from your current behavior you plan on changing?”

“If you dance with me, sir, perhaps you will learn the answer.”

It was an invitation no man could resist. He extended his gloved hand. She placed her fingers lightly in his palm, and the marquess escorted her onto the dance floor. He chose a position on the far side of the room. Deliberately? So they would not be so clearly in view?

Meredith suspected that was his motive, but whatever the reason she was grateful. The extra steps provided a little time for her to compose herself.

They made their proper bow and curtsy just as the dance began. Meredith felt the marquess’s hand tighten around her waist, and her hard-won composure slipped fractionally. She rested one hand ever so lightly upon his broad shoulder and obediently linked the fingers of her other hand with his.

Meredith felt the warm contact through their gloves. She worried for a moment that he was aware of the tension that had gripped her the instant they touched, but Meredith had no time to ponder the peculiar sensations afflicting her, for the dance had begun.

She believed she was prepared for it, but her breath caught as they revolved and whirled down the floor. She kept her gaze fixed over his shoulder and her lips pressed tightly. The marquess held her at the proper distance, yet why did it feel so intimate?

They remained silent through the first part of the dance. Meredith could feel his eyes on her, studying her intently with a highly charged gaze. Her stomach knotted and twisted, and she chided herself for such a foolish reaction.

She was not a young debutante, wide-eyed with wonder at her first ball. She had danced with countless gentlemen in her life. Men who flattered her outrageously, pledged undying devotion and love, threatened to do themselves bodily harm if she did not look upon them with favor.

Yet she found none of these bucks as compelling as being held in the arms of the Marquess of Dardington. That surprising realization troubled her greatly.

“You disappoint me, Lady Meredith. Luring me onto the dance floor with subtle hints of outrageous behavior and then retreating behind a wall of proper silence. ’Tis most unfair.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “Please, forgive my proper, reflective behavior. I shall endeavor most studiously to utter something of monumental impropriety the moment I catch my breath.”

“Excellent.”

“Ahh, now I am truly feeling the pressure to be sparkling and witty.” She felt his shrewd eyes on her face, but surprisingly her nerves began to ease.

He led her into a graceful turn and her mouth curved broadly.

“You must allow me a moment to marshal my composure, or I shall trod upon your shiny shoes. It has been a long time since I danced a waltz.”

“I do not believe you.”

“ ’Tis true.” She paused a moment, allowing the enchanting music and graceful rhythm of the dance to lull her.

She felt like she was floating as the cool air rushed by her cheek.

“I spend the majority of my evenings at home. There is hardly anyone appropriate to waltz with, though I suppose if I were desperate I could ask one of the footmen. I am, however, uncertain if they know the steps.”

“Are you as much of a recluse from society as I?”

“Nearly. I find I attend fewer and fewer events each year,” Meredith admitted. “I do not enjoy the activities of the Season, nor the company of many of the esteemed members of Society.”

“Why?”

Meredith gave a shrug of nonchalance. “I fear I have never been able to discuss feminine pursuits with much authority, and my competence in business affairs long ago labeled me a bluestocking.”

“What has saved you from utter ruin?”

“My outrageous sense of propriety?”

“I think it is more your ready sense of humor.” His hold around her waist tightened fractionally, drawing her closer.

Meredith smiled. “Alas, my unusual appreciation for the absurd has offended more than one self-centered, overblown aristocrat.”

“You have easily described half the people in this room.”

“I think two thirds is a more accurate count. Many object to me and my odd ideas on principle alone.”

The marquess shook his head. “And yet you hold no grudges?”

Meredith lifted her chin. “I react without malice to their slights, for that only frustrates them more. It was a trick Lavinia taught me, though I know in my heart I shall never achieve her grace and charm and kindness with such easy fluency. She was a dear friend, and one of the finest women I have ever known.”

“That is because conversation and wit came naturally to her,” the marquess answered readily. “As well as her affinity for society.”

“ ’Tis true. Her natural gifts made her a well-respected and sought-after addition to any social gathering.” Meredith felt a tug at her heart, remembering her friend. “I, on the other hand, must work very hard at being amusing and entertaining.”

“Not so very hard, I think.”

“You are being kind, my lord.”

The marquess’s gaze clung to hers and it was dark with emotion. “I am being honest.”

The unexpected compliment startled Meredith and she nearly missed a step. He held her tightly as she swayed unsteadily, and she could feel the heat of his body, the raw strength in his arms.

She fought to hold herself stiffly, for the sudden urge to mold her body softly against his was overwhelming. Her heart jolted at this thoroughly disconcerting notion.

Meredith’s cheeks went warm. Though she knew he could hardly read her thoughts, she worried he had somehow known what she felt, for his gaze was probing and far too perceptive.

They finished the waltz as they had begun, in silence.

The music ended with a resounding crescendo and the dance was done.

The marquess turned his head and scanned the crowded ballroom with great interest. Meredith felt herself blushing.

While not being precisely rude, it was obvious the marquess had dismissed her from his thoughts.

Meredith held her smile steady, trying to ignore the unwelcome bite of disappointment. It was usually she who sought refuge from an ardent male, not the other way ’round. Was she truly becoming the undesirable spinster her brothers thought her to be?

Meredith knew within moments the marquess would bow stiffly and escort her off the dance floor. It seemed unlikely he would seek out her company again, and Meredith was unsure if she possessed the courage to approach him a second time.

If she had any hope of winning that ridiculous wager and proving to herself she was not set firmly upon the shelf, she would have to act now.

“The room is warm, my lord,” Meredith said anxiously. “Shall we take a stroll in the garden for a refreshing breath of air?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and Meredith once again marveled. There was something so striking about him. Even his smallest gesture or expression seemed important.

“Are you not engaged for the next dance, Lady Meredith?”

“I have danced with only you this evening,” she said very quietly.

The marquess tensed, and his expression became guarded.

She could almost sense the wariness that filtered through him.

He remained silent for so long she was certain he was going to refuse her suggestion of a walk outside.

Then he silently held out his arm. She grasped it eagerly, and they paraded across the room in full view of any who cared to be interested.

And many were. She was very aware of the speculative glances thrown their way, but Meredith took her cue from the marquess and ignored them all.

It was a moonless night. Only a few couples milled about in the corners of the large patio. Servants had lit torches on the perimeter of the slate terrace, and the light they cast was sufficient to see the shapes of the neatly tended bushes and rows of blooming flowers that comprised the garden.

The night air felt damp, but there was no mist. Instead layers of shadows spread over the gardens, curling around the gravel paths, casting strange shapes into the far corners.