A Wedding In Springtime(27)

“You greatly disappoint me.”

“Good!” She twirled and skipped until she was once more standing before him. “Now please do not force me to dance with you again. Being known as a favorite of yours would be the end of my reputation.”

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Talbot?” asked Grant, his silver eyes wide and innocent.

“You know exactly what I mean. A carte blanche. An offer without the protection of marriage.”

“Miss Talbot!” exclaimed Grant with false shock.

They separated for the dance again, and Genie knew she had been nettled into speaking of things a blushing debutante should know nothing about, or at least pretend she knew nothing about.

Grant spun back to her, graceful and natural. He took her hand. It was merely part of the dance, one she had done countless times before, but never had she been more keenly aware she was holding a man’s hand.

“You shock me,” whispered Grant. “Are you attempting to make me an offer?”

This time, Genie knew better than to rise to the bait. “You are a rake and a rogue, Mr. Grant.”

“Guilty, my dear.”

Despite her best efforts, his careless words of endearment curled up warm and happy in her chest, making themselves at home. With a tingle of warning at the back of her exposed neck, she realized she might be in real danger. He was a master of flirtation, and she was just a country girl in considerably over her head.

The dance separated them again, and Genie used the time to get herself back under regulation. She might be the daughter of a country gentleman, this might be her first ball in the excitement of a London season, but she knew who she was. And she was not going to let some slick-talking rake make her doubt herself.

“I do not need your assistance, Mr. Grant,” said Genie when they linked together once more.

“Is that so?”

“It seems your goal is to ruin me. Trust me, Mr. Grant, I can do that quite well on my own.”

Grant burst with mirth, laughing so hard he stopped dancing despite the odd stares of assembly.

“Please, Mr. Grant. The last thing I need is to make a spectacle of myself. Again,” hissed Genie, chastising him to move.

Grant started up the dance again, but this time his eyes never left hers. For a while they danced without speaking, but Grant’s eyes followed her throughout the dance. A warm look glowed in his eyes that Genie had never seen before. Despite being in a ballroom crushed with people, she felt isolated in his attention, as if they were dancing alone.

Although her intention was to appear nonchalant and distant, she too could not see anyone but him. He was a handsome man, of average height but of near perfect form. He was everything a gentleman should be, in appearance at least. Despite her best intentions, she slid into the magic of the moment. She was a young debutante in London, dancing with the most attractive and notorious rake in all of society. She smiled with delight.

He returned the smile, slow and true. “I fear it is I who may be ruined.”

Heat flushed through her, leaving her skin hot and her mouth dry. She wished for a retort but could think of nothing to say. He took her hand, sending another jolt tingling up her arm to her spine, which somehow made her ankles weak. They had stopped any pretense of dancing and were standing before each other in the middle of the ballroom.

“I believe our set is complete,” said Grant in a low tone.

It was another moment before Genie could register the words. In a flash, the ballroom came back into view. The dance was completed, and the gentlemen were leading their partners off the dance floor. Genie glanced around, nervous someone had noted her odd behavior, and indeed there were a few matrons staring at her and whispering.

“Yes, thank you,” said Genie briskly, gripping Grant’s arm, so anxious to leave the center of attention she ended up dragging him off the floor. Genie marched with purpose back to where her aunt was standing with Penelope. Nothing to shock a body back to propriety like her aunt’s sour look. “Thank you, sir,” said Genie in a clipped, businesslike tone. “I hope you will enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“I always do,” said Grant with a wicked grin. He bowed and disappeared back into the crowd.





Nine





Genie took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. The hot, stale air only made her head swim more. The crush of the ballroom and stifling air made her a little dizzy.

“You should not look so much at him when you dance,” chastised her aunt. “One would think you were encouraging his advances and nothing could be more fatal. Do not think your behavior has not been noted. Vicious women these mamas are. They will not think twice about ruining your reputation so they can push their own less favored daughter. You need to… good heavens, child, are you all right?”