Chapter 2
When one was a Briarwood, one needed an exceptional constitution.
Fortunately, Lady Hermia had one of those.
Yes, a strong constitution was necessary to keep up with the antics of her family. Her mother was determined that each and every one of her children made excellent, bold marriages.
And they were all to live passionately. That was something her mother was most determined about.
Passion.
This was something Hermia struggled with.
Her other siblings? They all thrived in the crucible of their mother’s love of life.
Perdita rescued animals, having created a full menagerie that ranged from foxes to crows. Her brother Hal was obsessed with art. Her twin, Juliet, attended every new play that opened near Covent Garden. If she could have, she would have lived at Drury Lane.
And that was only three of her siblings.
Her family was eccentric. She loved them for it.
She was eccentric in her own way too, though not in a way which her mother generally would have approved.
Hermia liked quiet, and she liked to be alone. None of these things were characteristics of the Briarwoods, and yet here she was. Now she stood before this shockingly handsome, shockingly tall fellow who’d asked her to dance.
Her usual self would tell him to hie off, which, of course, would be a scandal in itself. Young ladies did not say such things. No. Young ladies waved their fans and politely demurred invitations. They said something about not feeling well, or exhaustion, or the heat. But she loved her mother dearly, and oh how pleased her mother would be if she accepted this invitation to dance.
The truth was she had not exaggerated. She was almost never asked.
There was something about her face. When it was at ease, it looked most serious, and no one wished to approach her. And she could not find it in her heart or soul to post a false grin upon her features. She’d tried, and she looked far worse. For it appeared as a grimace and then people avoided her entirely.
No, it was her twin sister, Juliet, who dazzled. A diamond of the Season!
Hermia was delighted for her sister, who had danced every dance so far this evening. She had happily watched and she watched carefully. For she made careful view of the gentlemen her sister danced with because Hermia was determined that her sister would have a happy marriage.
Juliet, as the eldest girl, longed to make a grand marriage, and she had such a good heart.
Hermia would not let her sister be taken in by a title, a handsome face, or wealth if a hard heart was involved.
Every ball, rout, and outing, Hermia assessed the character of every gentleman who approached her sister.
Tonight, this fellow had gotten in the way.
No doubt the music would come to a halt in just a moment, and Juliet would return to her side for a very brief time again because then someone would ask her to dance the next.
But now it was she who had been asked.
Hermia stared up at the man’s chiseled features. His eyes were a dark hue, his brow noble, his dark hair thick and surprisingly coarse.
It was the kind of hair that made one wish to thrust their fingers into it. That was the sort of thing she’d read about in novels anyway. His jaw was hard, square, defiant. She rather adored that jaw. It was so unlike many of the other English nobles who appeared weak in the chin after too many generations of intermarriage amongst the ton.
And then there were the shoulders that she had noted which had blocked her view. And she had not been jesting. They were considerable, and the cut of his coat was beautiful upon them. She did rather like the fact that he stood out like a crow among peacocks in his dark clothes. A crow. A clever animal.
His cravat was folded simply but beautifully, and there was a single diamond stick pin in it. There was no fluffy lace at his cuffs. And his dark breeches clung to legs that…
She swallowed. No, she would not think on his limbs.
His hand was still outstretched as he waited for her decision. The breadth of his palm covered by his snowy glove was quite something.
She knew she would not have such a chance again.
So she placed her hand into his. Not because she thrilled a little at his presence, but because it would make her mother exceptionally happy, and it always pleased her when she could make her mother happy.
Truly. That was all.
The man led her out onto the waxed floor. Her shoes slipped nicely over it, and he found a spot for them to dance.
The tune of an allemande lit up.
Blast.
She loved the allemande. It was a delightful dance, a frolicking German thing in a triple beat measure, which meant she was going to be twirling back and forth and tucked under his arm over and over again for three minutes at least.
She prayed he was a good dancer. She was actually an excellent one, though no one asked.
And as if he could read her thoughts, his brow furrowed as if he was experiencing similar fears to her own. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?”
“Ha,” she said. “Of course I do. While I might be accustomed to holding up walls or blending into them, I am required, as a young lady of the ton, to know each dance.”
“Good,” he said, his lips tiling into a smile which did the most shocking things to her insides. He leaned down slightly and whispered near her ear, “Because I love to dance.”
“Do you?” She blinked, amazed at how his nearness was causing her skin to zing to life and her breath to come in shorter takes. “You were standing rather stiffly, as if the very idea of having to go out onto the floor was giving you a case of plague.”
A low rumble of a laugh tumbled from his lips. “It was who I was contemplating having to dance with,” he said.
“The prospects were so very terrible, were they?” she teased as he took up his place opposite her.
The music began.
He gave her a bow, his eyes flicking with anticipation.
And she lowered herself into a slow curtsy.
They rose together, and he took her hands in his as the music began lilting.
Under his easy guidance, they began skipping across the floor. Much to her surprise, he was a very smooth, wonderful dancer.
In fact, she felt so light in his arms that she wanted to gasp and laugh.
The next thing she knew, she could not keep a smile from her face as he twirled her under his arm.
Then he twirled her up to his side. Grasping both hands, keeping her carefully by him, he kept them floating to the beat.
It felt like heaven in his arms.
At long last, she pointed out, “You have not answered my question.”
“Dancing with you is too pleasurable,” he returned.
She arched a brow. “Come now. I am not so easily distracted by such compliments!”
“Truths,” he countered. “But if you insist, I shall reply. I find nothing wrong with ladies who must marry,” he said. “It is what ladies do, and I must find one who will be my wife.” He shook his head as they rotated around each other. “But these balls are not to my taste,” he said.
He was silent for a moment, their gazes locking before he pulled her in close again.
“I wonder, are they to yours?” he breathed as he twirled her back under her arm.
“They are not,” she admitted, tilting her back so that she could hold his gaze. A gaze which was sending a wave of something she’d never experienced though her body. “But I’m sure you’ve already gathered that since I stand at the wall.”
“Surely, then, it would be a good idea for you to marry quickly. So you needn’t live the tedious life of a debutante.”
“Ha. I have seen most ton marriages, sir! Most of those are even more tedious than what I endure now.”
He gave her a look which suggested he would not argue.
“Then what will you do?” he ventured. “Run away to a convent?”
She shuddered. “The very idea’s appalling. While the silence might be nice,” she said, “I don’t like rules very much.”
“The ton is full of rules.”
She laughed. “Not for the Briarwoods,” she returned, winking.
He stared for a moment, stunned by her wink, then he rumbled, “No, not for the Briarwoods.”
“Are you friends with any of my brothers?” she queried.
“No. They run in a slightly different set than mine,” he said.
“So, you’re not a full-blown rake then?”
“You do know the lay of the land, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I am fully aware of rakes, bucks, pinks, tulips, and the lot,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say I don’t live quite as dangerously as your brothers,” he said. “I prefer sport to brawling.”
She grinned up at him, trying not to dwell on how much she admired his excellent physique. “Well, you do look as if you are rather good at sport.”
“I like the outdoors,” he said easily. “It helps keep my mind focused. And you? Do you like the outdoors?”
“I adore a long walk,” she said. “And frankly, if I didn’t have to worry about being on show, the parks would be my favorite part of London.”
“Why don’t you want to be on show?” he asked. “You are attractive and interesting.”
“Am I?” she said, doubtful. “My sister Juliet is the one who usually garners attention.”
“Your sister is Lady Juliet,” he said. “The diamond of the Season?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. She shouldn’t be surprised. “You’ve heard of her?”
“Everyone has heard of her,” he said. “She is a common…” And then he stopped himself.
“What?” she prompted. She narrowed her gaze. “Tell me.”
He gave a pained expression. “Well, her name is in the betting books at White’s.”
Her jaw dropped. “Men. They will wager on anything! I swear. Why, my brothers wagered on flies the other day. Now, tell me what is being said.”
He laughed. “Men are the very devil, it’s true. They’re saying she will marry within a few weeks. And she will have at least five proposals.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. “She’s already had five,” she said.
His brows rose. “You could give me inside information, and I could place wagers,” he jested, “and win a fortune. I’ll split the winnings with you.”
She grinned. “I don’t believe in gambling,” she said. “It’s a nefarious business. Too many people lose more than their coin.”
“You are very sensible,” he said. “I am not an avid participant in it myself, though I do enjoy a good card game. But a good card game,” he explained, “is more mathematics than anything else.”
“Really?” she said.
“If one knows statistics and one knows cards, one can play without risk. Games of chance are not for me.”
“I know so many people who like the thrill of chance,” she lamented.
His face grew serious. “The thrill of chance is well and good if one is not riding their life upon it, or the lives of others.”
“You are a surprise, sir,” she pointed out as he twirled her back to the side.
As they raced down the floor, she realized that people were beginning to stare. “Oh my, we are creating a conversation.”
“It’s simply because you’re a Briarwood,” he said.
“No, it’s because I’m the other Briarwood.”
“The other?” His brow furrowed. “Aren’t there a whole horde of you?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “There are several of us children, many cousins, and of course all of the aunts and uncles. We are a pack of hoydens,” she said.
“Hedonists, you mean?” he said.
“Hedonists? Why would you say such a thing?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Don’t the Briarwoods pursue pleasure at any cost?”
“No,” she said, used to the general misunderstanding of her family. “That would be ridiculous. Pleasure at any cost would lead to misery. We all have our passions, and people are confused by that. Don’t you think it’s important to have a passion?”
“I think passion is very important,” he said, his voice a low purr.
“That’s not what I meant,” she replied, her body suddenly sparking with heat. The touch of his hands sent her whole body aching to be closer to him.
She’d never felt such a thing. Not once. Suddenly, the bold desire to feel every inch of him against her hummed through her veins.
“Forgive me, I’ve overstepped… Though I enjoyed it. And your reaction. You know about such passions?”
She liked her lips, thirsty for something. “As you said, I’m a Briarwood. We aren’t silly about those sorts of things.”
“What do you mean by silly?” he said. “You are aware of—”
“Why would I not be?” she cut in. “I have witnessed the foolhardy endeavors of ladies and gentlemen throughout the ton, and our mother wishes her daughters to be educated so that we do not make mistakes ourselves. None of my sisters or I shall be cornered in a dark hall and made to marry a man we don’t want.”
He choked on a cough. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “You should marry a man you do want.”
She shrugged. “I haven’t had a single proposal. I doubt that I shall have any.”
“Why is that?” he said.
“As you noticed, I am not exactly pursued.”
“I don’t see why not.” He scowled as if taking her lukewarm reception by society personally. “You have good conversation. You dance beautifully.”
She sighed. “Gentlemen generally don’t like me. You are the only one who seems to do so.”
His lips twitched. “Perhaps it was your rather resonant voice as you told me to get out of your way.”
“I did not use those words,” she pointed out.
“Perhaps, but it is indeed what you meant.”
And as the dance came to an end, her skirt swayed against his long legs and her breath? It froze in her throat.
The whole world seemed to stand still then. Everything slipped away, and she felt only the warmth of his touch, the tempting call of his hard body, and the hypnotic power of his gaze.
He leaned down and whispered. “Again?” he queried.
“Twice?” she gasped. “Why would we do that?”
His lips tilted. “Because I promised my mother I would dance five times this evening. She did not say that they had to be with five different ladies.”
She pursed her lips. “If I danced with you five times, I shall have to marry you. And as I said, my mother educated me to make sure such a thing would not happen.”
“I would never do that to you,” he assured, “but surely one more dance… One more dance would be just the thing?”
Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she was shocked by how tempting he was. Was he teasing her?
“You make it sound as if it will be the highlight of my life. Do you think your attention shall make everyone notice me? Wish to marry me.”
His gaze softened. “Oh, Lady Hermia… That is not what I meant, but isn’t it the highlight of every lady’s life to marry?”
“Only if it is to the right one. Like it was for my mother and father. If it isn’t, it’s the beginning of the end.”
“The beginning of the end,” he repeated. “How well you put it. I fear I’m on that road already.”
“Then I am very sorry for you,” she whispered. “But yes, let’s do it again since you’re so very good at it. And it’s unlikely that I shall be asked to dance again this night. As to marriage and attention? I shall not give a fig.”
They did not leave the floor at all.
He took her hand in his, and the slow beat of the minuet began. She found her heart thrilling, not, of course, because she thought that he might fall in love with her or find her of any interest. No. She thrilled because she was going to enjoy this moment, the excitement of how her hand fit in his and the way their bodies moved so perfectly together.