No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(116)

“I was merely waiting for the right moment to claim your hand. A man would be a fool to miss the opportunity to dance with you.”

“I think you have that backward, monsieur. You are the accomplished dancer.”

He gave her a nod. “I will tell my stepmother all of the money she threw at my dancing masters was well spent.”

Collette glanced at his face again, trying to ascertain whether he was serious. “I think you already know you are an excellent dancer.”

“It’s easy to dance well with a beautiful woman on my arm.”

Her face heated again, and she could have cursed her body for blushing at her every small discomfort.

“I have embarrassed you?” he asked.

“I am not used to so much attention,” she answered, her voice low, which forced him to lean close again. She had to stop whispering. Every time he leaned close, her belly fluttered, and she felt even more light-headed. She had the urge to turn her head and bury her face in his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelled so wonderful.

“And you do not care for attention?”

She smiled. “Not as much as you, monsieur.”

“Oh, very few people crave attention as much as I do, but I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. Your cheeks are red as cherries.”

How Collette wished she had something cold to press against her heated face. She searched for something to say to cover her awkwardness. “It is the exertion of the dance,” she said. “Did you know that the lengthy courtship rituals of the Erinaceus europaeus are considered a means for the sow to determine which boar is the most fit to serve as a mate?”

Beaumont flashed her a smile that made her heart tumble and roll.

“Are we speaking of hedgehogs again? I believe that is my new favorite topic of conversation.”

Collette was mortified. “I would rather not speak of hedgehogs. But when I am nervous I sometimes say things before I can think.”

“Such as?”

She shook her head.

“Tell me,” he drawled. “How does a male hedgehog know when a female hedgehog is attracted to him?”

She shook her head again. She would not answer this question. He danced them into the center of the ballroom, so the light from the chandelier shone directly on her. There was no denying every single eye in the ballroom was on her.

“Does the female hedgehog wink at the male or flutter a fan?”

“No. Sh-she—”

He raised a dark brow.

“The boar may be attracted to scent cues produced from females in estrus.”

“Scent cues from…?” He gave her an innocent look, but she imagined he looked as innocent as Lucifer fallen from heaven. “Her lips? Her skin? Her—”

“The music is so loud, my throat is quite hoarse,” Collette said. The only way to avoid this topic was to pretend she could not speak.

“Fortunately, I can remedy the problem and give us a chance to speak privately.”

She did not like the look on his face. “The waltz will be over soon,” she objected.

“Not soon enough. Now, just follow my lead.”

Collette’s heard thudded in her chest. Now what did the man plan to do? She could not allow him to make more of a spectacle of the two of them. “But monsieur—”

Too late. With exaggerated movements, Beaumont twisted to the side and grimaced in pain. “My ankle!” he cried. Keeping one hand in hers, he bent and touched his ankle with the other. “I fear I have sprained it,” he said loudly.

Collette felt her mouth drop open, but when she bent to examine his ankle, she caught him staring at her.

He winked.

The scoundrel! His ankle was perfectly fine. But if this was his plan to remove her from the center of attention, he had not thought it through. This little play was only earning them more attention.

“Are you hurt badly?” a lady who had been dancing near them asked.

“Do you need assistance?” her partner inquired.

“No, no.” Beaumont waved a hand. “I think a few moments’ rest is just the thing. Miss Fournay, may I escort you to the terrace? The fresh air will do us both good.”

“O-of course,” she said. Her face was so hot she could have touched a wick to it and lit a candle. But Beaumont was playing his part for all he was worth. He draped an arm over her shoulder and hobbled beside her. Collette was forced to put an arm around his waist to maintain her balance. The other guests made way for them as Beaumont steered her toward the terrace doors. He bent his head, as though in pain, and his warm breath fell on the bare patch of skin between her neck and shoulder.

“You needn’t make such a show,” she said, speaking without moving her lips.

“Oh, but I like making a show. Even more, I like having your arm about me. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

Collette held her tongue until they finally reached the terrace. She pushed the door open and led him outside, where she released him as though he were the handle of a hot pan. If his ankle had really been injured, he would have stumbled. But he caught himself easily and leaned negligently on the stone balustrade. Collette walked to the other end, only a short distance away. This was no country house, but a London town house and the terrace was only five or six feet across. But even if she could not distance herself from Beaumont, she was grateful for the cool air on her face. She lifted her face to catch the breeze and closed her eyes as it washed over her.