Chapter 4
No, I will not dance with him!
Yet the thought died as soon as it was felt. Annie gazed up at Lord Yeatman in amazement, realising she was trapped. To turn down such an offer would be rude indeed.
“How long do you intend to keep me standing here, Miss Storey?” he asked, waving his hand for emphasis. The ever-present smile on his face showed he was teasing her. It made her stand taller, despite the blush that she could feel on her cheeks.
“Very well.” She placed her hand in his, accepting the dance. As she let him lead her toward the dance floor, she had to acknowledge that there was a small part of her that was intrigued to dance with him. He was unusual company, and he seemed eager to tear down the normal boundaries of conversation.
This will be a different dance indeed.
As they took to the floor with the others, he placed her in the very middle before stepping back, waiting for the introduction, along with the opening bow and curtsy to each other. Annie was careful to demurely lower her gaze as was proper to do so, yet when she looked up, she found his eyes were piercing. He didn’t seem to worry himself too much with what was proper.
As the three-time music began and he offered his hand to her, Annie stepped forward, realising just what dance she had agreed to take part in.
A waltz.
One of his hands found her waist, making her tongue go dry. When his other hand clasped her gloved hand, she felt a warmth spread through it. Even the way he offered such simple touches was incredibly different to the other dances that she’d had that night. Most men approached her with cool reserve. They did not stare so, nor did their hand take hers with such strength in it.
They began their dance slowly, moving easily to the three-time beat.
“I believe we must have some conversation as we dance,” Lord Yeatman said after a second. “I tell you what. I will intend to put you at ease with our conversation.”
“I am impressed you can recognise my unease,” she murmured. “As you wish. What conversation do you wish to have?”
“Judging by what I know of your character so far, I suspect you prefer polite conversation. Shall I talk of the weather?” he asked with a small smile.
“The weather?” she repeated, finding it difficult not to smile herself. “Even I would find that a little droll.”
“Ha! I am pleased to hear it. The number of times I hear people conversing on the weather when there is so little to say on the subject, is baffling. Hear anyone talk at length on the weather, Miss Storey, and you can judge something immediately about the relationship between the people in question.”
“What is that?”
“That they do not know each other at all and have little wish to know one another better.” His wit brought another smile to her face, but it was one she was trying to hide.
“I think you are too cruel in your judgment of people,” she whispered, just as she felt his hand tighten on her waist. She gasped at the intimate touch, before she was brought forward a few steps. She glanced behind them, taking a second to realise that he had done so to avoid a collision with another dancing couple.
“I have heard you twice criticise polite conversation this evening, and yet there is much that is good in such a thing. People learn to know who each other is in such conversation.”
“Very well, then you offer up a polite conversation, and I promise to try and find it interesting,” he said wryly, earning another smile from her. She was not used to this kind of chatter that broke down the walls of what was expected. He turned her away from another couple, and this time she ended up standing closer to him, so much so that her chin had to be tilted upward to look at him.
“I….” She struggled for a polite topic that he could find interesting.
“Yes?” he said with a tiny smile. “Distracted, Miss Storey?”
“Enough,” she spoke sharply, moving an inch back from him.
“Have I done something wrong?”
Annie glanced to the side of the dance floor to see her mother was standing there, staring at her wide-eyed, her body completely still.
Oh no. What will she think of me?
“Tell me what I have done wrong, Miss Storey, and I will attempt to remedy the situation by making you smile.”
Lord Yeatman’s playful whisper made Annie snap her gaze back toward him. She knew now she had to extricate herself from him quickly, whilst trying not to cause a scene.
“As you speak so plainly, Lord Yeatman, I will do the same.” She kept her eyes on him, watching as the corner of his lips flickered into an amused smile. “I am not like other ladies you have met.”