Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,4
have liked to add “my lord,” or “sir,” or maybe even “Your Grace,” but without the introduction, she didn’t know what to call him.
His lips twitched with what looked like pleasant surprise. “America, you say. How wonderful. Permit me to welcome you to our shores.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
This was not at all how Clara had imagined this night would begin.
“I’m visiting my sister,” she told him.
He did not ask who her sister was.
They continued the dance, swirling around the room with such fluid grace, that Clara did not feel the least bit dizzy. Her partner was by far the most skilled dancer she had ever encountered. His hand held the small of her back firmly yet lightly, guiding her around the room as if she were as light as fairy dust.
When the waltz ended, they came to a graceful finish near a tall potted fern. Another waltz began—a slower one—and her partner inclined his head at her. “Shall we dance another?”
Again, she was surprised by this blatant disregard for the rules of etiquette. He should be returning her to her chaperone by now. She glanced over at Mrs. Gunther, who was trying most unsuccessfully to look at ease. Clara remembered the old adage, “when in Rome,” and decided she should simply follow this Englishman’s lead.
“I would be honored.”
They moved into position again, and a shiver of excitement moved through Clara as his hand returned to the small of her back. He led her into the center of the ballroom, where they moved about at a more relaxed pace.
“I must say,” he commented, in a deep, sultry voice, “you are an extraordinary dancer. I was fortunate to have found you before some other man. I believe I would like to keep you.”
Clara laughed. “You cannot keep me.”
“Ah, but I wish I could. At least until you tire of me and send me on my way.”
Clara felt a hot thrill at his flattery. “Sir, you are flirting with me, quite shamelessly.”
“Because I am a shameless man—at least in the wake of your exquisite charm. You are undeniably the most intriguing creature I’ve encountered all evening. All year to be precise.”
Clara’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I don’t know what to say in response to such overdrawn compliments. You don’t even know me.”
“Overdrawn? You underestimate your allure. You should allow me to prove it to you.”
“Prove what to me?”
“That you are exquisitely charming.”
Their conversation was decidedly out of her realm of experience, and though it was exhilarating in ways she had only dreamed of, it was most definitely improper. She urged herself to remember that. He was a complete stranger. Did he not realize the scandalous nature of his flattery?
And yet, she could not bring herself to change the subject. “How will you prove it?”
“How would you like me to?”
Clara wasn’t sure she could speak, even if she knew how to answer such a slippery question.
“I am completely yours,” he said, his expression friendly and open—a delightful change from what she had become accustomed to since arriving in England. “I am at your disposal. Your humble servant. Here for your pleasure.”
She stared in shock for another few seconds, then couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud. Maybe it was nerves. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
And who was he, exactly? All she knew was that he was someone very daring and very grand. Everything about him was exciting and magnificent and lordly. He was such a glorious change from the ordinary.
He gazed at her. “Look around you. Every man on the floor is taking notice of you here tonight and wishing he had spotted you first. They are each hoping that I will soon disappear and leave you free once again.”
Clara did look around. The other gentlemen were simply dancing with their partners, not looking at her at all. “I’m afraid I don’t see it.”
“No? How else can I prove it to you, then? I know. Feel my heart. It’s racing.” He pulled her hand to his chest and held it there.
Stunned by this physical intimacy in the middle of a crowded ballroom, and flustered by the feel of the man’s hard chest beneath the flat of her hand, Clara felt his heartbeat. It was not racing. He was as calm as a lake in the deep of night.
Utterly beguiled and falling into a lazy daze, Clara missed a step.
Her partner righted her and continued on without missing a beat, holding her hand out again, where it should be.