in the back of his knees that raced into the base of his spine.
Waltzing had never done that for him before.
“I really cannot decide,” he admitted, surprising himself with the answer.
Perhaps not the words themselves, as the weasel was undoubtedly the more evil of the two, but given his distaste for any kind of dancing and the unsettling nature of his reaction to it, he found himself unable to be entirely the gentleman in his response at the moment.
His partner grimaced. “I do apologize for that.”
“You don’t make the waltz an evil, madam,” he assured her as gently as a man could gruffly do. “As I said before, it is not personal.”
She nodded once, somehow managing the weakest of smiles. “As I said, if I had another alternative, I would have chosen it.” Her eyes glanced over his shoulder once more, then darted to the buttons of his waistcoat, her hold on his hand clenching painfully.
There could be only one thing that rendered a woman bold enough to demand a dance with him into a trembling leaf, and that was fear. In this case, it could only be fear of the weasel. What hold did he have over her that enabled him to do this to her? He couldn’t bear it. Somehow, he couldn’t.
“As fine as my waistcoat is, madam,” he said, attempting at the teasing that had come so easily to his brother, “my eyes are up here.”
“Give me a moment, please,” she whispered weakly, color fading from her cheeks, the trembling in her frame growing worse.
He sighed and dropped the hand he held, moving his hand to her back. “Come,” he urged roughly, applying just enough pressure to urge her on, leading her from the floor.
“Where are we going?” she asked, resisting a little.
Graham took her hand in his, worried that the hand at her back wouldn’t be enough to steady her. “You are suddenly unwell, and I am being gentlemanly and escorting you away,” he said simply, once again keeping his tone and expression polite. “Put a hand to your head, sway a little, and tell me where to deposit you, if you would be so kind.”
She did as he suggested and looked around, then indicated a group in a corner.
He could have laughed but thought it would be inappropriate in this moment. Still, there was something to be said for the irony of the situation.
Her friends happened to be some of the few members of Society he could tolerate.
Captain and Mrs. Sterling, Mr. and Mrs. Vale, Lord and Lady Ingram, and Miss Charlotte Wright all watched the pair of them approach warily, concern in each of their faces. They were joined by Mr. and Mrs. Morton, whom Graham knew by sight, though not especially intimately himself. Still, the gathering was one he could approve of, and if the looks forming on the faces of the gentlemen there were any indication, he need not have further concern for her safety.
He released her as they reached the group and bowed to them as a whole before turning to face her as she took the hand of Lady Ingram. “I am sorry our waltz was cut short, madam,” he murmured, though he was not especially sorry to be done with dancing, beautiful though she was. “I hope you are feeling yourself soon.”
He bowed once more, then turned and moved through the crowd with ease, which seemed unfair, given the trouble his mysterious dance partner had endured during her flight from danger.
Graham’s step faltered slightly as he realized with a jolt of guilt that he had not learned her name during the course of their dance together. He could blame the abruptness of their first meeting, and her unconventional method of finding dance partners, but the truth of the matter was that he’d had plenty of time to ask her name during the waltz and had failed to do so.
There wasn’t much he could do about that now unless he wanted to ask around, but he wasn’t one for gossip. There was enough undoubtedly said about him in certain circles that he did not want to know about, and if word got around that Lord Radcliffe was asking about a certain young woman, it would only harm them both. There would be no guarantee that the information he got would be accurate anyway. He did not have any close friends in Society, so there wasn’t a chance he could trust anything he got by way of answer.
He could ask the