And Then She Fell(36)
“I’d forgotten that at a masked ball one can dance however many waltzes as one wishes with a single partner.” Henrietta laughed as James responded by whirling her even faster through a turn.
“And,” he replied, his eyes finding hers as they slowed and joined the stream of other couples more sedately revolving up the room, “at a masked ball, you can laugh and express delight without restraint.” His eyes held hers for a moment more, then he murmured, “I love hearing you laugh.”
He twirled her again. Henrietta was grateful for the momentary distraction; she’d suddenly lost her breath, lost her voice . . . lost touch with rational thought. He loved hearing her laugh . . . what did that mean?
She returned her attention to him, and fell into his eyes. And realized that her focus on him, and his on her, had deepened, had gained new depth.
And that mutual connection had gained even greater power to hold them both, to draw them in, heightening their awareness, each of the other, immersing them together in those moments of shared experience.
Weaving ribbons of mutual delight into a net that ensnared them.
They danced until they could dance no more, then wandered again, catching their breaths in the large conservatory into which countless couples had drifted to stroll in the moonlight streaming through the glass panes. Conversations there were muted, private exchanges that no one else needed to hear. Windows were open, so the air was fresher, and carried the scents of green growing things tinged with the exotic fragrances of night-blooming flowers.
To Henrietta, the night had taken on a magical quality. She’d lost track of time; since agreeing to James’s proposal of how to spend the evening, she’d thought of nothing beyond the next moment, the next experience, the next aspect of their mutual enjoyment.
She’d allowed herself to be swept away—something she couldn’t recall ever doing before. It was most unlike her, the practical and pragmatic one, to embrace a come-what-may philosophy and willingly plunge off the structured path. Tonight, she didn’t have an agenda; she had no goal, no aim in mind. She wasn’t pushing and shoving anything . . . but, she realized, she was learning.
Learning what she might desire in an arena she hadn’t, until very recently, allowed herself to explore.
She felt the warm weight of the necklace circling her throat, the touch of the crystal pendant above her breasts. Strolling beside James in the moonlight, her hand on his arm, his hand lying warm over hers, she thought about that, and about what more she needed to learn.
James paused. She glanced at his face. He’d tipped his head and was peering past a collection of palms. Then he straightened. His teeth flashed in a smile. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“What?”
He glanced around; she did, too, but there were no other couples near. Then he lowered his arm, caught her hand in his, and drew her around the palms—and through the door that had been concealed behind the large, strappy leaves.
The room beyond proved to be her ladyship’s orangery. A narrow stone-walled chamber, it ran across one end of the terrace bordering the ballroom. Glass-paned doors could be opened onto the terrace but were presently shut. Two rows of potted orange trees marched neatly down the room, scenting the air. The only source of light was the moonlight slanting through the glass doors; the shafts struck the pale stone flags, resulting in a soft, diffuse illumination—enough to see by, but not enough for them to be seen by the few couples strolling on the terrace.
Releasing her, James shut the door.
Henrietta went forward, down the aisle between the rows of sculpted trees; glancing at the wall opposite the terrace, she spied a small sofa set against the wall beneath a rectangular window. Stepping out of the aisle, she walked to the sofa; curious, she peered out of the window, then sighed. “Oh—this is beautiful.”
The window overlooked an ornamental lake. Sinking onto the chaise, she looked the other way—she could see all the way along the terrace—then she glanced at James as he prowled up to join her. “This sofa is perfectly set.” She gestured with one hand to the rectangular window. “The view is simply lovely.”
James looked down at her and smiled. “Indeed.” After an instant of appreciating her upturned face, masked though it was, he turned and sat beside her.
Looking out along the terrace, she sighed. “It’s been an unexpectedly delightful evening—thank you.”
“It’s been entirely my pleasure, for which I thank you.”