“I beg your pardon?” Jack queried.
“A dance.” He drew in a breath, his shoulders squaring as he clearly gathered himself. He turned to her. “Would you please do me the honor of this dance?”
She looked about, quite certain he was speaking to her mother or Louise.
Louise and her mother studied her with wide eyes. Her mother appeared as if she might collapse on the spot.
“Lady Jacqueline?” the duke queried, hand outstretched.
She whipped toward him, understanding dawning. “You are seekingmeto—”
“Yes, Lady Jacqueline,” he said, his lips twitching ever so slightly. “I am seeking you out to dance.”
Her mother and Louise both looked so full of joy they could scarcely conceal it. In fact, they were bursting at the seams with mutual triumph that a duke was asking Jack to dance.
If only they knew the reason, their hopes would be dashed.
She certainly wasn’t going to tell them.
And with that, Stone extended his snowy-gloved hand a touch further. A hand which was quite strong and capable. It was all that she could do not to contemplate those fingers and wonder how they might feel upon her person. How the glove might glide along her own gloved hand, then up her bare forearm and upward and…
She shook such a vision away and placed her hand in his.
“I would be delighted,” she replied, her voice steadier than she thought it might be. She was relieved. His eyes shone as bright as the emerald stick pin winking in his cravat. And his hand enfolded hers, steady, firm, determined.
For a single moment, she looked at their hands entwined and the wordrightdanced through her head. She didn’t know why she’d think such a thing. But somehow, their hands lookedrighttogether.
The duke inclined his head.
Her brother gaped.
Her mother gaped.
Her sister gaped.
She couldn’t blame them. After not being asked to dance for ages, to be asked by a duke? One might as well have sailed to the moon.
Even though she knew why he’d asked her, she herself felt…well, dreamy, if she was honest. Because the entire company was staring at them, and moreover, that special feeling she had thought of earlier? It was how she felt now.
In his company, somehow, she felt as if she was the center of the world.
Preposterous. But true.
As they crossed onto the waxed dance floor, Stone said nothing for several moments. The music began. Another waltz, but this one eschewed sugary notes and was more grand. It was a song meant for romance.
He placed his hand just under her shoulder blade, guided her in closer to him, and took her free hand into his palm. He looked down at her for a single moment. Then as the music passed the first few bars, he rocked them back and forth.
She tilted her chin up, met his gaze, and allowed herself to savor this. Who knew when she’d be in his arms again? In the arms of the most sought-after man in the country. In the arms of a man who drove her wild with temptation…and had once made her so very happy as a girl.
The Duke of Stone glided down the floor, holding her so easily, they were flying. Flying, yes. There was no earth beneath her feet. There was only his arms and the sensation of sweeping circles with nothing to bring them crashing down.
Together, they soared about the room.
He was so tall, and so strong, and capable of going up and down the floor at such a pace, she never wanted it to end. It was…perfection.
All her life, she’d never felt particularly graceful. She was excellent at running, climbing, adventuring, and of course playing the pianoforte. But at this moment? She felt as graceful as a proverbial swan.
Did everyone he danced with feel thus?