Chapter 15 #2
And in the few instances when he and Giselle were actually alone, he hadn’t known what to say to her.
Because he knew that what he should say was an apology.
He’d gone too far in the tower that day.
If not for Zack, would he even have stopped?
Or would he have taken her like some witless fool, too caught up in the pleasures of her to halt his unwise actions?
By God, what was he to do about Giselle?
Every day that passed, he wanted her more. Her kindnesses to his brothers warmed his heart, her enthusiastic enjoyment of the treasures of Longmead’s gallery touched his soul, and her winsome smiles and teasing remarks made him wish to carry her up the stairs to his bed where he could—
Bloody hell. He was losing his mind.
By the night of the Harvest Ball, he was all at sixes and sevens.
Nor did it help when she swept down the stairs in the most beautiful harvest gown he’d ever seen.
Of saffron-colored silk with dark brown trim, it skimmed her lovely form so perfectly he could hardly think of anything but letting his hands roam the paths the fabric took along her fatal curves.
Fatal to him, at any rate. Because he dared not behave in anything but the most circumspect way toward her at the ball. The female guests would be watching for any misstep on his part, and the male ones would be looking for any excuse to whisk her away from him and give her comfort.
God, it was going to be a long night.
“You look like autumn itself,” he said, forcing a smile as she reached him. “I can’t wait to show you off.”
Her face darkened and she glanced over to where her mother stood nearby, then leaned up to whisper, “Do not get too caught up in the ruse, sir. Remember this is not real.”
“It feels real,” he murmured. “And I will make it look as real as possible, too, especially when we lead out the dancing with a waltz.”
She shot him an arch smile. “At least you keep some of your promises.”
“Certain promises are made to be broken, sweeting.”
“Like the one about not kissing me while Mother and I are here?”
“Especially that one,” he said with a grin.
She turned away, but not before he saw a small smile grace her lips. “Then I should take care not to be alone with you, sir.”
“You should.” He added in a whisper, “If you can.”
That was all the conversation his brothers allowed him before they crowded around her to say how pretty she looked and to ask her for dances later on.
She laughed. “I can see I will only be dancing with Oakden gentlemen this evening.”
Even Zack was promised a dance.
“Do you even know how to dance?” Heath asked the lad. “Giselle has been teaching me,” he said.
That caught Heath off guard. “She has?”
“She has,” Giselle repeated. “He wanted to learn so he could be ready for the ball, so I gave him a few lessons. He is a quick study, your brother.”
“If you say so.”
“Do you doubt my ability to teach dancing?” she quipped.
“I saw you dancing at the Thanet party, so no, how could I? I will merely add it to my ever-growing list of your talents.”
He was rewarded for that bit of gallantry with a brilliant smile from her.
Unfortunately, before they could dance, they had to wait through an interminable receiving line.
The guest list had been quite large, including détenus and local gentry alike.
He noticed that the longer he and Giselle stood there, with him introducing ladies, gentlemen, tenants, and farmers he’d known since childhood, the paler Giselle became.
No doubt speaking to a lot of strangers was wearing on her. So, he was vastly relieved when at last they could end that torture and start their waltz.
For the first several moments, he reveled in the pleasure of having her in his arms, of being able to dance with her and hold her close. Then he realized that his usually cheerful fiancée still wore a tight-lipped expression.
“What’s wrong, chérie?” he asked her.
“I had no idea how many people know you here,” Giselle said in a low voice. “When I jilt you, they will all hate me.”
“Why do you care? You won’t be coming back here.”
“True” was her only answer, though she turned her face away as she said it.
And he realized he didn’t like the idea of her not being part of his life here. Hell, he didn’t like her not being part of his life anywhere, since he wouldn’t be able to see her if they were supposed to be at odds.
The thought of it made his stomach churn. No more bright smiles, no more arch remarks, no more unexpected kindnesses.
God, what was wrong with him? “You’re the one who reminded me that this is a ruse.”
“I am, indeed.” She forced a smile to her lips. “And I am not playing my role very well, am I?”
“You’re playing your role just fine.” Because holding her like this, having her in his arms didn’t feel like a ruse. It felt . . .
Enchanted.
She danced like a princess, ever aware of where her feet landed and never once landing on his.
This close he could see how her eyes shone in the candlelight, and how her rigid smile softened to a real one the longer they whirled about the floor.
Best of all, he could feel her body shift and adjust to his, taking his every lead even when his leading probably left much to be desired.
He hoped he didn’t dance too much like a clumsy oaf.
“You are not as good at the waltz as I expected, sir,” she teased him. “Perhaps I should have given you lessons.”
“Perhaps you should have. It’s been almost a decade since I danced, remember? I’m still a bit rusty.”
“There was dancing at Verdun,” she pointed out.
“Only in the early years,” he said bitterly, “before everything lagged on and people began to feel hopeless.”
“And ran out of money to throw balls,” she added, her face clouding over. “Or could not get credit because their families could not be reached.”
“Exactly.”
It was enticing to have a person other than his male friends understand what he’d experienced. Ladies who flirted with him had no concept of it. Nor could he begin to explain it.
But he didn’t have to explain to Giselle. She understood it all.
“Surely you danced some in London,” she ventured.
“Not that much. Especially not the waltz. It’s too new, and some in society consider it scandalous, so those matrons won’t even allow it in their ballrooms.”
“How silly,” she said with a musical laugh. “Dances change. La Volte was considered utterly indecent a long time ago, but eventually it became acceptable, and now it’s passé.”
“I’ve never heard of it, so I’ll have to trust you on that.”
Shortly after, their dance ended, and he led her from the floor. As they were heading to the refreshments table, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face, and for a moment, he was sure it was Lily. But when he looked again, he didn’t see her.
Clearly, he was imagining things. Even if she had been invited, which she decidedly had not, she wouldn’t have come. Besides, he had left specific instructions to his servants not to admit her or her family or her husband if they should ever try to enter the estate proper.
After leaving Giselle’s side, he had to force himself to dance with any number of important village ladies.
But once he entered into the spirit of the ball, he improved as he remembered more steps.
Meanwhile, Giselle danced with young and old alike, including his brothers.
Unable to dance, her mother spent the entire time conversing with a couple of French women who’d married détenus and moved to Bath.
By the time his second dance with Giselle arrived, he felt reasonably certain he could manage even a waltz. Fortunately, it was a reel, which he not only knew well, but meant plenty of time to chat as people moved down the line.
“Maman and I would like to go to Bath tomorrow,” she said.
“The rest of us would like to go with you this time.”
“Why? It’s very dull at the baths.”
“I’m well aware,” he said. “My mother used to go occasionally. But the boys have been clamoring to reacquaint themselves with the town, so I told them we could do so the next time you and your mother went.”
She smiled. “That would be lovely. And it would be nice to spend the day together.”
Thankfully, she had grown more comfortable with him, less caught up in remembering this was all a ruse.
To be honest, it still didn’t feel like a ruse.
It felt like the most wonderful night of his life since his return.
He had custody of his brothers, two of whom were dancing with young misses themselves.
He was master of his own property at last. And he had the woman of his dreams in his arms. She’d even commended him on his dancing at one point.
Tonight, it felt as if nothing could possibly go wrong.
Then he spotted Lily. This time he knew it really was her.
His blood ran cold. Damn it all to hell. How the devil had she made it inside? Yet there she stood in the corner, watching him with a tense expression.
He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until Giselle said, “Who is that woman?”
Jerking his gaze back to her, he said dully, “Nobody. Someone who shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?” she asked. “She is glaring at me as if I am a witch.”
“That’s not you she’s glaring at,” he bit out. “That’s me.”
“But why?”
Good question. Why, indeed? She had wronged him, not the other way around.
“Heath?” Giselle prodded.
Fortunately, just at that moment the music ended. They had no time to say anything else to each other before he had to stop, bow to her while she curtsied to him, and then return her to where Evan waited to whisk her off for her next dance.
He watched her go with his heart in his throat. God, how could he explain Lily to Giselle?