Four years was a long time.
“And now we shall swap partners."
Venetia was relieved to be released by Signor Boticelli, but was subject to great disquiet as she turned toward Sebastian, who was eyeing her with expectation. "You look out of sorts," he murmured as he took her right hand and clasped her waist. "I thought you'd welcome this opportunity."
She glanced across at the other pair to ensure they were above notice. Fortunately, they appeared to be doing what waltzing partners apparently were supposed to do: gaze adoringly into one another’s eyes. "I do welcome it,” she replied. “What I didn't welcome was having to press so close to Signor."
"Or was it that you were wildly jealous of Miss Reeves and me?”
There was a wolfish edge to his smile which needled Venetia who shook her head emphatically. "I didn't feel jealous in the slightest," she lied.
"Then I'm heartily disappointed for I was gazing into Miss Reeves’s eyes with the kind of look that I hoped very much would have you flinging out of Signor's arms and dragging me off to—"
"Sshh!" Venetia felt the heat burn her cheeks, but to her relief saw that Miss Reeves and the dancing master were clearly too involved with one another to pay them any mind. "All right, I did feel just a twinge of jealousy," she admitted with a reluctant smile. For the feel of his arms about her, and the gentleness of his expression in contrast with the firmness of his touch, was whipping up many of the old feelings in a way that made her fear she’d given herself away.
Being with Sebastian felt so right.
Being in his arms was also a potent reminder of the intimacy of the last weeks before they’d been forced to part.
"Perhaps we could go over it again? I'll focus another of my looks upon Miss Reeves, and you really will whisk me out of this room and drag me to..." He left the words hanging.
"There is a summerhouse by the lake. A little folly like a castle that is out of sight of Quamby House." Venetia felt an unexpected thrill at the shocked look on Sebastian’s face. Yet she was not sorry that the impulsiveness she’d spent her life trying to curb had gained the upper hand. She did still love Sebastian. There was no point denying it. Now she just had to prove that he loved her as much as she needed him to.
“Venetia,” he murmured, taking a moment to recover his footing as he twirled her around the far edge of the ballroom and out of earshot. “Please stop toying with me. I know just how determined you can be,” he rasped. “But I also know how you do love to play games.”
“I’m in deadly earnest.” She drew in a tremulous breath. “Just as I was in deadly earnest the last time...and you were equally shocked.” She could feel her excitement reflected in him while the look on his face suggested her dare had more than rekindled the old memories that were now making her heart skitter, and the blood fizz in her veins.
They slowed by an enormous fern that concealed them momentarily from their neighbors. With a glance to where Miss Reeves and the dancing tutor were talking animatedly, Sebastian moved his head closer to Venetia’s ear and whispered, “You don’t know what I’d give to enjoy a lifetime with you, Venetia. Do you remember the last night we shared?” He drew back a little to stare into her eyes. “I hope you remember it like I do, sweetheart.”
Her heart hitched. Sebastian had always been true to his word. A gentleman. Yes, a gentle, determined man, quick to passion with only the mildest of encouragement from her.
After their friendly companionship had paved the way for more intense feelings, and then in the despair of knowing they might soon be parted, Venetia had been the one to instigate a greater and more dangerous intimacy.
She’d also set the conditions: that if a child was not conceived as a result of the magical few days they shared, then Sebastian was duty-bound to honor his father’s longstanding desire that Sebastian and Dorothea be wed.
“Those memories are what have kept me going,” she now whispered as he brushed a tendril of hair from her forehead, not caring that Miss Reeves was so close. For Miss Reeves was locked in Signor Boticelli’s arms, their concentration with each other making it clear they were oblivious to the intimacies Venetia and Sebastian were sharing.
“I haven’t even established how long you are staying. Of course you’ll still be here for the Christmas Ball?” Sebastian sounded urgent. The music was winding to a finish.
Venetia bit her lip. “Lady Indigo insists we must be gone by then. She can’t abide noise and large groups of people.”
He tightened his grip on her hand as he prepared to let her go, dropping his lips to her ear. “You must find a way to remain here.” His tone was filled with dismay. “I cannot leave Quamby House before the ball. Libby has asked Lord Quamby to announce her betrothal, and I cannot abandon her.”
“Libby is coming here?” Venetia was flooded with happy memories of her schoolroom days. Libby had been a good friend. “And she’s to be married?” One look at Sebastian’s face made her say sharply, “Your father does not approve?”
“I’m afraid he does not. But Libby is twenty-four now, and she’s been waiting a long time.” He moved Venetia deftly out of the path of Miss Reeves and the dancing tutor, both of whom were conversing with surprising animation. “Surely not Mr—?”
“Mr Clayton, yes. The young clerk to whom she lost her heart when you were still living in our household.” Sebastian shrugged. “He’s on the way to being a solicitor now, so father may take more kindly to the idea, though Clayton is not at all the catch he envisioned for her. However, since our father won’t be at the ball, Libby has bravely decided that this will be the moment she tells the world that she and her young man are going to defy Papa and set up their own household. And good luck to them.”
“I wish I could be here to hear it.”
“Then you and I will have to make our own announcement before you leave. Today!”
"Make an announcement today?" Venetia stared at him as the music drifted away, and the woman who’d been hired to play the accompaniment dropped her hands from the keyboard and turned her lined, expectant face in their direction.
Miss Reeves and Signor Boticelli seemed not to have noticed. They were engaged in earnest conversation with much gesticulation—apparently about the stance and posture most desirable in the dance.
So, even though they were within earshot, Venetia took a risk to whisper, "But...we only met yesterday, Sebastian."