Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Graham
Finally.I’d about gone mad watching Anna in conversation with Cross. I’d tried with painful determination to find an interesting spot around the room while she’d danced with him. To train my ear to whatever Miss Ryan was on about. But all evening I’d wanted only Anna. Anna’s attention, Anna’s smile, Anna’s hand in mine.
Lud, that dress. Her neck, and the swoop of her collarbone. My mouth went dry merely at the sight of her, and I pinched the back of my hand hard to refocus.
“The waltz, Miss Lane?” I reached out my hand.
She looked up with an instant grin that sent teeming waves of astonishment all through me. Her delicate, silk-gloved hand fit perfectly in mine.
“Have you danced the waltz in public before?” she asked with the faintest blush blooming upon her cheeks.
Something in me came alive at the sight; I wanted her to blush like that every time she looked at me.
I took a few unhurried steps backward, my thoughts hardly coherent as I led her away from the crush, and she followed, eyes still laughing into mine.
“Yes,” I answered, lowering my chin, which only served to ignite her humor further. “We’ve been in the same ballrooms together on more than one occasion.”
There were more than a dozen couples spread out, waiting, and I positioned us in the far corner. Private, intimate. Perhaps people would talk, and for once, some part of me hoped they would. To have my name linked with Anna’s even once.
“I suppose I did not pay close enough attention,” she said.
We’d stilled as the musicians shifted their papers. Anna held fast to my hand, and I studied the dusting of freckles over her small, perfectly rounded nose. “You were always surrounded by suitors and friends.”
She tilted her head, a string of ringlets bouncing along the frame of her smooth cheek. I wanted to touch one, spiral it around my finger. Bring it to my lips.
“There are a few girls I would consider my friends, though not close enough to tell them everything, you understand,” Anna said. She curled her fingers into mine, and my stomach clenched. “And as far as gentlemen ... At present, you are the only man I’d consider a true friend.”
Me? I was in a trance, enveloped by scents of jasmine and cherry blossoms, warm with wine and the feel of Anna’s fingers in mine. She was looking at me intently, searching my face with an increasingly furrowed brow.
“You’re my ... friend, Graham,” she said again, like pieces in a puzzle were falling into place. “You know everything about me.”
“Well, not ... ev-everything,” I stammered out. There were decidedly a few things at present I would like to know that required more action than words, but perhaps not in the middle of a ballroom.
“I cannot recall the face of the person I last danced the waltz with,” she said, “but I can easily remember how you used to fluff your hair before you knocked on our door.”
I sobered instantly. Drew back. “You watched me?”
She squinted her eyes. “I may not have appreciated your many untimely visits to my home, Graham, but there are certainly aspects about you I do appreciate.”
Oh? Her lips twitched, and so did mine, and we laughed so loudly, couples around us turned their heads. My pulse seemed to find a new beat, a waltz of its own, and I did not want this night to end.
“Perhaps I should step on your foot to make our waltz more memorable than your last,” I teased.
She covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. “Don’t you dare.”
A violin played a few notes to signal the dance, but I was frozen. Captivated. Enraptured to have Anna Lane’s full attention when every other man in the room would die for it.
Anna smiled softly as she guided my hand to her side, her eyes never leaving mine.
I felt the curve of her waist, letting my thumb drag against the silk pleats of her dress as she clasped my other hand and raised the pairing above our heads.
She smiled up at me. “You look terrified, Graham.”
I swallowed hard. Nothing but bare truth on my lips. “You look beautiful, Anna.”
Her brows raised in surprise. Happy surprise, that made me feel like I was suddenly ten feet tall.
Soft notes filled the air as the violinist drew his bow along the strings. I knew this music; I’d danced it several times before, practicing it with my mother and Ginny in the drawing room. But with Anna, each step we took seemed effortless, like we were floating in air. Her hand pressed gently on my back, and I felt the heat of it keenly like fire traveling up and down my spine. Our linked hands brought us close, so close I understood why many debated the morality of this dance. I could feel her breath, taste it in the air between us.
We watched each other for longer than either of us had allowed before. Then the music quickened, and our steps moved faster. My hands dropped to her sides, and Anna held my shoulders as we spun, faster and faster, focused only on each other. So fast, I feared I’d drop her or she’d slip out of my arms, so I tightened my hold on her waist just as Anna’s foot knocked into mine, and she tripped.
She fell into my chest. I pulled her upright. “Dash it all. Forgive me, Anna, for my misstep.”
Another couple had also failed to keep the pace and were moving away from the dancers.
But Anna only swayed as she laughed breathlessly. “Good heavens. I think he’s playing too fast,” she said, completely unconcerned that anyone had seen her falter. “Shall we finish?”
“Are you certain? I could get you a glass of lemonade ...”
Her gaze trailed over my face. “I’d rather dance with you, actually. If you don’t mind.”
My heart fluttered against my chest like a caged bird, and I did not hesitate. I took her hands in mine, and she grinned.
The dancers were back in their original positions, the music slowing, and I raised our hands above our heads, one hand at her waist, her hand on my shoulder. We started slow. Her skirts brushed against my knees as we spun, entrancing my every thought. I would never forget this waltz or how it felt to move in tandem with her. To gaze, uninhibited, into her honey-brown eyes, so clear and beautiful I could fall right into them.
We spun round, and I couldn’t think of anything worth saying that would elevate this moment in my memory. I could not take my eyes off her as our feet slowed with the music. Her chest rose and fell with breaths that equaled mine in measure, and as the last notes of the waltz echoed in the hall, she watched me like I was the only other person in the room.
“Thank you,” she said on a breath. Her grip loosened on my shoulder, but she did not quite let go of me.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, I assure you.” I released her waist, then turned her hand in mine, mindlessly thumbing her palm.
Anna’s lips parted, and then—
A cough. And a man waiting nearby.
A gent Anna recognized from London asked her for the next set, and after ensuring she was comfortable, I trailed off, not quite walking a straight line.
Lud, she was unlike any other woman. A category all her own.
As her host, I’d stay nearby, watching, keeping guard. I noted Mr. Anderson, who was standing a little too close to Ginny on the other side of the room.
“Graham?” Mother’s hand touched my arm. “May I introduce Mrs. Hughes and her daughter Miss Harriet Hughes. They are staying in Brighton for the month.”
A slender woman with a pretty face and three, large blue feathers in her light hair curtseyed with a practiced smile.
I bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hughes. From where do you hail?”
“Hampshire. A far cry from a place as magical as Brighton.” Again, she smiled. Her voice was soft and breathy.
I nodded. All too well, I knew the motions. I held out my hand. “Would you care to dance?”
My mother grinned. Mrs. Hughes practically purred like a cat spotting a dish of cream.
“I’d love to,” Miss Hughes said.
And so the night went. Dance after dance. Anna being offered another drink from Cross, then taking the hand of a man he’d introduced her to. I’d found Ginny just outside the door with a group watching a man stuff a handful of olives into his mouth. I promptly extricated her from the scene.
Until finally, at just after two in the morning, we all moaned with relief as the carriage creaked to a stop outside Highcliffe House.
I’d never felt happier to be home, safe and away from prying eyes and unknown intentions. This was why mothers were in charge of marrying off their daughters. Were it up to me, the women in my household would remain young and unattached forever.
“Perhaps next time Mr. Anderson will kiss my hand,” Ginny sighed, leaning into Anna’s side as they walked into the house.
“There will be no kissing of hands,” I muttered.
At that, they laughed.