Page 34 of The Beast's Bet

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He spotted the tensing of her father beside her.

But she clearly did not care, for she stepped forward, gave him a small curtsy and said, “Of course I would, my lord. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to dance with the Earl of Glenbroch,” she said firmly.

Triumph soared inside him, as did the witty realization that she had happily made that comment, putting it into her father’s ear that there was no way that he could possibly object to a man who ranked as highly as he.

As he guided her onto the floor, under the less than friendly eyes of the aristocracy, Tom took her into his arms.

The first notes of a rather dark waltz began.

She tilted her head back, looked up at his massive form, and asked carefully, “Do you know how to waltz, Tom?”

His lips twitched, as he realized she no doubt feared he only knew how to dance a drunken reel. “We shall just have to see, won’t we, Lady Elizabeth.”

“Oh dear,” she groaned. “You’ve reverted to calling me Lady Elizabeth.”

“You just asked me if I know how to waltz,” he teased. “I thought perhaps you were concerned about my abilities and should revert to using our titles.”

“Well, if that is the case, Tom, I suppose I should start calling you my lord as I did in front of my father. After all, you are an earl now. Imagine. I am to be ruined by an earl.”

He laughed. “You have to blame my friend for that. And I am certain an earl is still capable of ruining you entirely if you so wish it, or were you hoping for a bit of rough, my lady?” he asked, letting his old accent lilt just a little bit with the rough tones of the East End.

Her eyes flared as she took in those sounds rumbling over her.

Shedidlike it, he realized, and he wondered what was it about him that she liked so well?

Was it his wild history, his class that was so far beneath hers, or his person?

Sometimes it was impossible to tell with a woman, with anyone really what they liked about him, what they wanted from him.

The notes swelled and he quickly rocked them back and forth in time to the music, and then took off circling her down the polished floor.

She let out a sound of pleasure at the ease of it. “You are a remarkable dancer,” she said.

“Let me tell you, my lady, years spent dodging pickpockets and other nefarious individuals in the East End, boxing, and all sorts of fighting, make a man adept at all sorts of movement,” he said, allowing his voice to deepen with the promise of pleasure.

Her eyes darkened as the kiss they’d shared clearly played through her mind, as did the contemplation of the movement he’d insinuated.

She cleared her throat. “All sorts of movement?”

“All sorts,” he repeated. “Now, I think we must adjust our plans since my friend has such machinations about him, and has put me into such a position.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

“My position is equal with yours. We are now on the same plane.”

A pained look creased her beautiful face. “My father shall never think so,” she said.

“I don’t really care what your father thinks,” he replied.

“Good,” she said.

“I saw the look on his face when I approached.”

“Did you see the look on his face when I told you that I would dance with you?”

“Oh yes. He looked like he’d choked on a shoe.”

She laughed a bright sound.


Tags: Eva Devon Historical