Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,43

be what he would wear most of the day. They have no embellishment and aren’t particularly fancy.”

“I like them.” Jeremy took one of the boots from me and examined it by running his hand along the smooth, shiny length of it. I was kinda jellie of the boot.

I opened the second box. “Hessians began as a German boot. They were standard issue for the military, actually.” I pulled out one of the boots and set it upright on the table. The gold tassel on the top front flipped back and forth, and Jeremy grabbed it and leaned in to study it. “So, this is the fancy one?”

“As you can see,” I continued, “they have a low heel and pointed toe. They were made to fit more easily inside stirrups.” Of course, I could talk about this stuff all day, but I worried that Jeremy would be super bored. “Anyway, the basic difference is really the tassel. The Hessian was more of a military boot. Darcy would probably have won top boots more often.”

“But wouldn’t he have danced in a sort of slipper?” Jeremy asked.

“Hmm. Someone’s been doing his research,” I said, pleasantly surprised once again. “It’s true that a sort of flat shoe would have been worn to balls, but the Jane Austen Society is a bit more interested in the pomp and circumstance of it all, which, I have to admit, I like too. Most of the contestants will be wearing boots to the grand ball, whether precisely historically accurate or not. Besides, boots are hotter.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jeremy replied. “I think these things look a hell of a lot more manly than slippers.”

“Try them on,” I prodded.

Jeremy grabbed one of the top boots, sat on a nearby stool, and pulled it on. He did it amazingly gracefully. I’d always struggled with boots like I was trying to get an uncooperative python off my foot. Jeremy just kicked off his ankle-high work boot and pulled on the new one like it was nothing. Beautiful peoples’ lives had to be so much easier than hobbits’. I sighed.

I handed him the second boot and he pulled that one on easily, too. When he stood, I gulped a little because he’d tucked his khakis into them and the result looked a little like breeches and hello...hot. Plus, his general foxiness abounded per usual. The black thermal long-sleeved shirt he wore continued to hug his abdomen and yep, he looked good. Really good.

“What do ya think?” he asked, standing up straight and putting his hands on both hips.

“Perfect,” I said, swallowing to wet my dry throat.

“I have to admit,” he said, his voice softening, “this is the part I’m most nervous about.”

“What?” I blinked. “Dancing?”

“Yeah.” The look on his face was vulnerable and boyishly handsome.

“Don’t worry. The steps aren’t too difficult, and it’s basically doing the same thing over and over again. Once you get it down, you’ll be great at it.”

“If you say so.”

“So you’re not nervous about the acting, huh? Just the dancing?” I teased.

“I’m a little nervous about the acting. I’m really nervous about the dancing.”

“We’ll do the quadrille, the minuet, and the cotillion later, but it’s the waltz I’m most concerned with because the scores for it are weighted more heavily. Just follow my lead.”

The afternoon sunlight poured through one of the windows and highlighted his features including the look of mild consternation on his face. “Isn’t the man supposed to lead? In 1813, that is?”

“Yeah, but I’ll have to teach you first.”

I moved to the center of the cleared space. “The most important dance is the waltz. Plus, it’s the most romantic.”

“The most romantic?” Jeremy arched a brow.

“Yes, during the Regency, most dances weren’t particularly intimate, but the waltz was the one where the couple could actually touch.”

“How scandalous.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Exactly.”

I held up both of my hands. Jeremy moved over to stand in front of me. His closeness and his height made goosebumps race along my skin. I could also smell his soap, which made me want to sniff his neck, and seemed highly inappropriate.

“We clasp hands like this,” I said, holding up my right hand and entwining my fingers with his. His palm was warm and dry. It dwarfed mine, making me feel downright dainty.

“And the left?” he asked.

“You put your left hand on the small of my back.” I cleared my throat as he did so. “And I put my left hand on your shoulder.”

We stood together for a moment while I swallowed