A Gentleman Never Tells(45)

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said.

“No, no. It was my fault,” she said and quickly missed another step, causing the viscount to step on her toes again.

“Nonsense,” he said, trying to be polite. “I’ll take smaller steps.”

As soon as he said the words, she stepped on his foot. “I’m sorry,” she said and then took a huge step backward and deliberately bumped into the couple behind her.

Lord Brentwood quickly guided her away from the middle of the dance floor and to the outer edge of the dancers. “I just assumed you would know how to waltz,” he said.

She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling when she saw the confused look on his face.

“I do,” she said honestly. “Perhaps I’m simply not as good at it as you are. I used to be a very good dancer, but tonight I seem to have two left feet.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” he mumbled. “We’ll muddle through.”

And so they did. Trying not to dance properly wasn’t as easy as Gabrielle thought it would be. She had been dancing since she was a young girl, and it was second nature to her. She could waltz as gracefully as anyone, so she had to pay close attention to the beat of the music so she could deliberately miss steps. At one point, she started forward rather than stepping back. She remembered how irritating it was once when she danced with a young man who counted the steps under his breath, so she whispered, “One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four,” in time to the beat of the music.

She knew her constant mumbling had gotten to him when he said, “Lady Gabrielle, if you will just concentrate on following me, there will be no need for you to count the steps.”

“Oh,” she said and gave him a sheepish smile. It made her feel positively wonderful to be in control of the dance and to cause him a few moments of frustration.

By the time the music stopped, her toes were hurting from being mashed by Lord Brentwood’s much larger feet, and she was certain her beige satin pumps would be beyond repair; still she smiled. All in all, it was a small price to pay if it helped the viscount see that she would be far from a perfect wife for him.

Lord Brentwood bowed, and she curtseyed before they left the dance floor.

When she looked into his eyes, a warm, tingling sensation washed over her, and that made her feel a bit guilty for having deceived him, even though it was necessary. “I’m sorry I didn’t waltz very well.”

He studied her face for a moment before he leaned forward just a fraction, lowered his voice, and said, “Not a problem, Lady Gabrielle, I’ll see to it you have a few more lessons after we marry, and soon you will be outdancing even the most accomplished dancer.”

That wasn’t what she expected to hear. Suddenly a charming light glinted in his eyes. There was something about the way he looked at her that led her to believe he might know she had only been pretending not to know how to waltz.

“I see my brothers have arrived at the party. Do you mind coming with me to meet them?”

Gabrielle looked in the direction of his gaze and saw the two tall and powerfully built men entering the drawing room. They were the epitome of identical twins, from their same height, coloring, and features, to every detail of their evening clothing being exact in color and style.

“Not at all,” she said. “Your brothers are very handsome.”

A queer expression settled on his face. “You think they are handsome?”

“Very much so, don’t you?”

He laughed. “I suppose I do.”

“They look so much alike, how do you tell them apart?”

“In appearance, even I have trouble telling them apart sometimes unless one is wearing his hair longer than the other, as they are now. If you’ll notice, Iverson’s hair is a little longer in back than Matson’s.”

“Thank you for telling me the difference,” she said, studying the two men. “But I do believe what others are saying to be true. From this distance, they look nothing like you.”

“Really? I always thought I was a handsome blade, too.”

Gabrielle gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. You are quite handsome, too. I meant they—”

His eyes sparkled with laughter, and he said, “I know what you meant. My brothers take after our mother’s side of the family instead of our father’s.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, grateful he hadn’t taken offense at her offhanded comment and seemed more than willing to laugh off her reference to the fact the twins looked nothing like their older brother.