Chapter Thirty #2
“What you lack in skill, you certainly make up for in enthusiasm,” she said wryly. Her other hand came up to rest on his shoulder.
“That’s the secret to our dances out here,” he replied. “We don’t go in for all of those fancy steps and proper postures that you lot are obsessed with back east. It’s all about joy and being in the moment.” He held Alexandra tight, fairly flinging her along with him, bracing her arms with his.
She squealed again, throwing her head back and laughing as she held to him tightly. The force of their spin had her leaning away from him, their hands locked together. “Don’t let go!” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and wrinkling her nose for a moment.
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” he said, wriggling his fingers in her tight grip, making her laugh again.
He decided in that moment that she had the best laugh he’d ever heard, full and throaty, with all of the joy and none of the restraint of a society lady. It would be a very fine thing indeed if he could make her laugh like that every day.
The song ended, and Aidan brought them to a stop. She clung to his arms, laughing and breathing hard. “I’m dizzy,” she breathed.
“Me too,” Aidan admitted.
The music started again, more subdued. The frantic giddiness left the impromptu dance floor; the dancers slowed, the voices lowered.
Everyone was in a world of their own, insulated by music.
Aidan caught Alexandra’s eye, who gave him a demure smile in response.
She was suddenly shy, bashful almost, looking at the ground and sneaking glances at Aidan.
This time, Aidan offered his hand gently, palm up.
Alexandra bit her lip, her teeth flashing out against the petal-pink of her mouth.
She reached for his hand, hesitating, then placed hers in his, feather-light.
It was like holding a butterfly on his palm, fluttering and ready to fly at a moment’s notice.
Slowly, he curled his fingers around hers, letting her close the distance between them this time.
His heart did a merry little dance of its own as she stepped toward him, near but respectable.
Swallowing, Aidan put his hand at her waist, feeling her warmth even through the layers of corset and clothing.
In time with the music, they spun more slowly, without any real steps but just following the direction of the music.
“I can’t believe so many people turned up,” Alexandra said, looking at the other people that still milled about.
Aside from the dancers, many people had taken up seats on fence rails, straw bales, and the benches they’d thrown together from logs and planks.
Neighbors were laughing, townspeople were red-faced with sun and punch, and everywhere there was simple joy.
“It’s your doing,” Aidan told her. “All of this is down to you.”
“No,” Alexandra said, shaking her head. “It’s your family’s legacy. You know what I learned as I spoke to them?” She tilted her head in the direction of the crowd. “They all hold your family, you especially, in high regard. They’re all on your side.”
Aidan absorbed this. He hadn’t had time or occasion to consider his position in the town.
He’d been so busy paddling to stay afloat, trying desperately to keep his head above water, that he’d lost sight of the fact that he existed within a larger framework.
There was a community here, if he reached out.
“Can I have one conversation with you where you don’t make me realize things?” he demanded in mock irritation.
Alexandra smiled up at him. “No,” she said simply. Her face clouded over. “I’m sorry,” she said, seeming genuinely contrite. “I’ve been told more than once that I talk too much while dancing.”
“By whom?” Aidan demanded, his brows beetling.
“Oh, you know,” she said, giving a small shrug. “People. The men of Philadelphia were not enamored with my conversation.”
“Mm,” Aidan hummed, deep in his chest. He realized that she wasn’t meeting his eye, looking everywhere but at him.
He couldn’t understand why her mood was suddenly so subdued compared to what it was a few moments ago.
All that they’d done was discuss dancing, her propensity for talking, and how that had been perceived—
Oh.
The understanding that she was seeking approval—no, that wasn’t right, she was seeking his approval specifically—floored him.
He didn’t know how to tell her. He wasn’t a man who had ever been much good with words, and every one he could think of sounded, in his own head, like something out of a bad play.
Alexandra was still avoiding his gaze. The neckline of her polonaise fell about her collarbones, so Aidan could see it clearly when she swallowed hard, following the motion with his eyes. Carefully, he brought them to a standstill, stopping their motion by firming his hand on her waist.
Alarmed, Alexandra looked up, poised to ask what was wrong. Her words died on her lips as Aidan released her hand and gently cradled her face in his hands. He loved the contrast instantly, her powder-soft skin against his work-roughened hands.