Chapter Two
The baron ledBella gracefully over the dance floor while dancers spun around them. Bella’s breathing shortened as all her senses came alive. Her first waltz, and she suspected, one she would never forget. She had danced at assemblies but had never been so aware of a man before. His proximity, the touch of his long-fingered hand clasping hers, his chiseled chin and firm lips, the way his hair curled about his ears, and his fresh cologne—all made her stare at him in wonderment. The effect he had on her was unparalleled. She marveled at the immediate connection she’d felt on meeting him, as if it had touched her soul. That he almost eclipsed her debut as a harpist astonished her. It must be because of this magical night. The most remarkable of her life. At the conclusion of the ball, she would never see him again and might think clearly and objectively. But she was determined to enjoy every minute she spent with him.
As he moved her gracefully through the steps of the dance, she thought about where they might walk. It had stopped snowing, and the sky was brilliantly lit by stars and a full moon but still too cold to venture out in her light ballgown. But she feared she would agree, should he ask her, despite the risk to her reputation and Nicholas’s censure. It would be utter madness. But when their eyes met for the longest moment, she believed she might go anywhere with him.
His hand tightened around hers. “What has startled you? Did I tread on your toes?”
She laughed and shook her head. The notion of this elegant, stylish man doing such a thing was absurd. He was observant, but she could hardly explain. “I am learning many things tonight,” she said vaguely.
His handsome mouth twitched. “And will you tell me about them?”
She grinned. “No, I shan’t. They must remain a secret.”
“That sounds like a challenge. I like challenges.”
A frisson of warmth flooded through her. At the gleam in his eyes, she looked away, horribly out of her depth with this sophisticated man. “It is not worthy of your efforts.”
His large, warm hand spanned her waist. “No? I find everything about you intensely interesting.”
Was he a rake and toying with her? Was she naïve to like him so much? She knew so little about him.
“Musicians are dull people. We are committed to our music and practice for long hours every day.”
“I don’t believe you could ever be dull,” he said in his husky voice. “But life is about balance, Miss Leeming. You cannot work all the time. Your performance will become uninspired and lack depth and emotion. You need to experience much of life. You need passion.”
Bella’s breath caught in her throat. “I shall consider your advice, sir,” she murmured, afraid her flushed cheeks had become a beacon, and her feelings easily read. She looked around, suddenly aware the waltz had ended. Couples were leaving the dance floor.
Her hand rested on his sleeve, and he bent closer. “We can promenade the ballroom, but it is so noisy and stuffy. The snowstorm has passed. It is a beautiful night. Shall we go out on the terrace? My sister has brought warm fur-lined capes she relies on during the snowy weather in Vienna. Shall I send a footman to bring one to you?”
Bella gave in to the temptation to wear something other than her uninspiring evening cloak. She wanted to be mysterious and beautiful for him, and that merely reminded her of her uneventful life up to this moment. “If your sister won’t mind.”
“She won’t miss it. I will return it long before then.” He bowed and left her.
She could still change her mind. At the far side of the ballroom, Carrie talked to the count and the countess, and Bella deliberated whether to ask her if she should. Carrie was sure to advise against it. But Bella couldn’t forgo the chance of a special moment with him to hold close through the coming years. It was far too appealing.
When he came with the cloak, he took her arm. Feeling as if the guests’ gazes burned into her back, she was relieved when another couple with the same aim passed through the French doors ahead of them.
Her heart beat so fast it was hard to breathe as his hands rested lightly on her shoulders, arranging the thick ermine-lined cloak, the bright red color of cherries. She loved it. To wear such a color made her bold.
Outside, there wasn’t a whisper of wind. They crossed to the stone banister and gazed over the slumbering gardens shrouded in white. A breathless hush surrounded them, the other couple too far away for them to hear their soft whispers.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? But if you are too cold, we shall return inside.”
“I’m glad we came outside. I love the stillness after a snowstorm. Until the snow melts, everything seems to slow down.”
“You are a remarkable young lady, Miss Leeming.” He turned his back to the banister, resting his hands on each side, his attention on her. “Tell me what you wish for your future. Marriage, I imagine, but also a career in music?”
It stunned her that he would consider it possible for her to have both. “Do women in your country become musicians?”
“But of course.”
“And do they marry?”
“Yes. And have a family. There is room in a woman’s life for many such things.”
“So, Austria is not as conventional as England?”
“In some ways, more so. But we have a great respect for talented musicians. And there have been some fine ones throughout the centuries. Caroline Bayer was a brilliant violinist and composer.”