Marquesses at the Masquerade(60)

She laughed. The sweetness had a calming effect—like hot tea on a dreary morning. “I’m not so distressed, but I thank you on behalf of my aunt and cousin.”

“Not distressed? You hurt my chivalrous pride, se?orita.”

She glanced about the room. “The thing is, I’m leaving London for Holland—where my father is from.” There was no excitement in her voice, only resignation and sadness. “There’s nothing for me here except my cousins. And it seems they would be much better off if I were gone as well.”

He couldn’t deny the prick of panic. I’m here. You can’t leave me alone.

Patrick would soon be here as well.

Exmore decided it was better to keep this knowledge to himself and lure her with something more innocent and uncomplicated. “Ah, I know a secret that may change your mind. I shall tell you on the dance floor.”

“Ooh, I dislike when people do that. You must tell me now. No secrets.”

“You must wait for this secret that I know you will adore. It’s a scintillating tale.”

“You are cruel,” she said and then chuckled. He remembered once comparing Annalise’s beauty to Cassandra’s, finding fault in Annalise’s more countrified features. Cassandra belonged on carved marble. The cool, idealized beauty. But Annalise’s face was meant for kindness and playfulness. You couldn’t love her face without falling in love with all of her. Not that he was falling in love. He truly didn’t know, because he couldn’t trust his emotions anymore. He was merely happy to be with her at this very moment. That was enough.

She groaned. “Must we dance? Couldn’t you have saved this damsel in distress for a card game or a glass of punch?”

“Hold on to me, and all will be well.”

She shook her head. “No, it will not be well. Your toes and the toes of other dancers will suffer greatly.”

“Come now, don’t you want to know my delightful secret?”

She considered and then wagged her finger. “Very well, but it’s your own fault if I smash up your toes.”

“Smile as you do it, and I won’t notice.”

When he led her onto the chalked floor, numerous other couples rushed forward to claim spots. This happened whenever he attended a ball. Exmore couldn’t understand his allure. In his own mind, he led a boring, embarrassing, desperate existence. He should have been banned from polite society long ago, but his deplorable behavior only seemed to fuel his popularity. Yet, the more Society desired of him, the less he desired of Society. He wished he could whisk Annalise away to a terrace, far from the curious looks. There, they could talk and laugh. He didn’t want much anymore from life, only the simplest, most commonplace of things, such as good conversation.

Annalise held him tight, bit the edge of her lip, and looked down at her feet when the music started. She was stiff but responded readily to his prompting touches that sent her in the proper directions. As she moved down the column of dancers, farther from him, she would flash him a comical look each time she made a mistake. When they were rejoined, she proudly declared, “I only stepped on three toes.”

“All you require is a little practice, and maybe you’ll only trounce one toe next time.”

“I don’t think there will be a next for me. Well, at least not in England.”

He didn’t want her to talk this way. “Are you truly leaving?”

She glanced at her aunt. “I sent missives to my Dutch cousins this morning. I don’t know when I shall receive a reply, but I shall tell my uncle tonight. I’m sure he will be relieved to see me go. This will undoubtedly be my last appearance in Society.”

“After all my heroics?”

She tilted her head. “But my last cherished memory of London Society will be dancing with the handsome Marquess of Exmore.” She delivered her flirtatious words with comfortable ease, making it obvious that she didn’t have any designs on him. This realization shouldn’t have angered him, yet it did. “It’s very romantic,” she continued. “Worthy of the stage, in my cousin Phoebe’s opinion. Of course, to be truly stage-worthy, I would have to die a tragic and dramatic death now.”

“Well, I hope you won’t die this tragic and dramatic death before next Tuesday. That day is part of the secret.”

“Oh yes, the secret. You have to tell it now, for I’ve done what you asked and attempted to dance and injured several men.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “Perhaps I was presumptuous. It’s a dark, lascivious secret and may involve a ritual sacrifice. It might be too much for your delicate ears.”

She raised an amused brow. “Very well, keep it to yourself. Don’t think of telling me.”

“But it’s practically bursting to be told.”

“No, I shan’t hear a word of it. Not a word.” She moved down the line of dancers again, flashing him an impish grin.

He felt a jolt of arousal and forced himself to focus on the dance steps and his new partner.

“I saw that mischievous smile,” he accused when they came together again. “Now I must tell you my secret. It can’t be contained.”

“I didn’t smile mischievously at you.” A light rallied in her eyes.

“I’m well-versed in the language of smiles, and that one was particularly mischievous, milady.”