Chapter Five #3
‘Dance with you?’ she whispered. She sensed her family watching her, wondering what she would do next.
Benedict also looked surprised. She imagined most ladies immediately leapt to dance with him. ‘I am not the most graceful dancer, it’s true, but I usually manage to stay upright and keep more or less to the tune. I promise I won’t go tripping into any water features.’
‘Oh, yes, Jane, I know you enjoy this song,’ May urged gently.
‘Yes, I do.’ The melody glided forward, graceful and sure, as she could not be, as if it knew exactly where it was going. As if it would carry her along with it. ‘And I am reassured by the lack of garden statuary to tumble over. Thank you, Your Grace, I would like that.’
She sensed everyone watching as she took his hand. The man everyone watched, wanted, led her towards the dance floor. Heads turned. Fans paused mid-flutter. Surely they wondered how she’d got there with the duke? He didn’t look around, just smiled at her as they took their place amid the dancers.
She was sure he was just as serious, just as intent, on everything in his life as he was about dancing.
She remembered the passion and intensity he’d once had when talking about his work, his calling.
He’d spoken about it with such urgency back then, so alive with it all.
Maybe that young man was still there, underneath the facade of the duke.
What had led him in the years since to bury the boy she’d once met?
Jane felt everyone’s eyes on them as they circled the floor, and for an instant she wondered what they thought, what they said. That odd O’Neill girl, not really one of us, easily ignored, dancing with the duke! She wasn’t sure she didn’t prefer being invisible.
She certainly wasn’t invisible to Benedict. He watched her closely as they moved together, watched only her, as they swayed, spun and turned. It was as if she was the only person there. He looked at her as though the rest of the room had fallen away, his eyes fixed on her, intent and steady.
‘Do you often come here to the Casino?’ he finally asked, the innocuous words infused with some kind of strange intimacy. ‘My aunt says it’s the centre of everything here.’
‘Yes. I like to use the tennis courts, and May enjoys tea on the terraces,’ Jane answered.
‘I haven’t been to a dance here before, though.
’ And she’d never danced quite like this before, either.
Moving with him, holding onto him, time seemed to blur into delayed motion.
It felt strange, alluring, but also as if they had done this together a hundred times before.
Their hands touched, familiar, warm and grounding.
It was exciting. They twirled, spun and swayed, and she laughed as her skirts wrapped around his legs and unwound again.
Yet the inevitable always happened; the music ended, but Jane was rooted to the floor.
They stood there, his hand resting at her waist, her hand in his.
Around them, couples moved away, but she felt as if she were in a different world entirely.
The way he looked at her, not quite smiling, intent only on her, made her feel like being in a dream.
She knew very well she should step back, say something light and polite.
But, once she moved, he would be gone from her again.
In the end, they had to. He stepped back and offered her his arm.
His smile faded, just as she’d feared. He led her back to May and Connor and a few of their friends, who were talking of boating as if the world was just the same as it had been five eternal minutes ago.
To her surprise, Benedict did not leave, but stayed and joined in the conversation, chatting about his last visit to Cowes.
‘Oh, Your Grace, if you get my husband started on the subject of boats, he will never stop,’ May said with a laugh.
‘Perhaps you would care to come for tea at Shore’s Edge tomorrow?
I’m afraid it’s all a bit topsy-turvy, as we get ready for our ball, but I can promise a real English afternoon tea—scones and everything.
And you two can chat about boats to your hearts’ content. ’
Jane’s heart stuttered. ‘Oh, May, I am sure he must have so much on his schedule…’ For some reason, that simple invitation to tea felt so enormous. What if he said no, rejected them…rejected her? But a small, genuine, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
‘Not at all. Surely Newport is meant for informal summer afternoons?’ Benedict said. He glanced down at Jane. It was fleeting but soft, like some sort of quiet promise. Of what, she did not know, and could not dare imagine. It was enough that she could see him again.
‘I’ll always make time for good scones. It is very kind of you, Mrs O’Neill,’ he said.
May and Connor exchanged a glance, one of those knowing, speaking ways in which they communicated, but Jane knew they wondered what this meant. She wondered herself, but she couldn’t help that glow of anticipation. For just that moment, it didn’t matter what anyone thought at all.