Chapter 9 #2
Taking Lady Florence into his arms, Joseph snatched in a breath as he fought against a sudden wave of heat that crashed over him.
There was no time to think, no time to even consider what he was feeling, for the music had begun and Joseph had no choice but to dance.
He waited for the heat to fade away, for it to soothe itself and rush out of him just as quickly as it had come on, but it did not.
Instead, it sought to fire itself even hotter as he clasped her hand, his other hand settling at her waist. Joseph could not explain his reaction to having her so near to him and certainly did not want to have these feelings linger, but the longer they danced, the more overwhelmed he felt by them.
He had not been drawn to a lady in this way in his life before!
Yes, he had noticed the beauty of some and the warm smiles of others, and yes, he had felt a tug of interest or a curl of warmth, but it had been nothing more than that.
To have this now, when he knew full well that Lady Florence was not in the least bit suitable given her clumsy manner and inappropriate mother, was dreadfully confusing.
Lady Florence had not opened her mouth once as the waltz continued although she did keep her eyes fixed on his.
Joseph wanted to look away, aware that his warm feelings might well be because of the intensity of their gaze and connection, but he could not.
It was as if part of him wanted this, even though his mind told him he was being quite foolish.
“Whatever is happening?” His attention was forcibly pulled away from Lady Florence as the couples near to them began to slow their steps most irritatingly.
Joseph twisted his head this way and that, wondering why they could not dance freely and about to state that this was all quite ridiculous and not in the least bit what he expected from the ton, only to catch sight of the mistletoe.
The mistletoe bough. Of course.
Joseph had never once stopped underneath the mistletoe bough, fully aware that the expectation that would come thereafter was that he could steal a single kiss from his dance partner.
Given that he had not been thinking about his future or his need for a bride, it had never taken up any sort of thought in his mind.
Now, however, it seemed like a truly excellent idea.
Without allowing his thoughts to pull him from his sudden and forceful intentions, Joseph continued to waltz, albeit in a much more careful and controlled manner.
There were two parts of him at war as he drew closer, a thickness in his throat which had not been there before.
He did not need to do such a thing as this; he knew, but at the very same time, he wanted to.
Part of him pulled back, the other part pushed forward.
“Lord Applegate, we are approaching the kissing bough.” Lady Florence’s voice was very soft indeed, her eyes flaring wide as Joseph nodded.
“Yes, I am well aware of that.” He came to a stop just beneath it, looking up at it for only a moment.
“Should you like me to take a berry, Lady Florence?” It was a heavy question indeed for the lady would have the opportunity, then, to refuse to accept his kiss.
If she told him that no, she did not wish for him to take the mistletoe, then the dance would continue, and a kiss would not be shared.
Joseph’s heart began to squeeze with hope, aware that he himself did not want to be refused.
“I – I hear it is bad luck to refuse a kiss under the mistletoe, Lord Applegate.” Lady Florence swallowed and looked away, her cheeks pink. “I do not know why you might wish to but – ”
“Because it is tradition and because every young lady ought to be given such a sweetness as a kiss under the mistletoe,” Joseph declared, aware that his heart was now beginning to pound with an excited anticipation.
“Here, then.” Reaching up, he took hold of the mistletoe berry and plucked it gently, holding it between his thumb and finger.
As the waltz continued around them, Joseph lowered his head and, before he could allow his heart to even consider what it was he was doing, brought his lips to hers.
The heat that had been in him before burned all the hotter and with an even greater strength than before.
Joseph did not linger, but the brief touch of his lips to hers was enough to make his head spin.
When he lifted his head and looked back at her, she had her eyes closed still.
Slowly, they fluttered open, and she looked up at him, the pink in her cheeks now turning scarlet.
Her hand went to her heart, and she took a step back, her eyes wide now, although he could not tell the reasons behind it.
“I – ” Lady Florence closed her eyes, squeezing them tight.
“I – I thank you.” Her eyes opened, but she turned away from him, even though the waltz was not yet finished.
Joseph reached for her, stepping forward to catch her arm, but she was gone, hurrying through the crowd of dancing couples and, as he watched, knocking into one or two.
Her feet were stumbling, her hands outstretched, a vision of fear and confusion as she rushed away from him.
And all Joseph felt was keen disappointment and a slow-growing sense of regret.