The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(37)

“Indeed, and one more dance, which I hear is the waltz. Unless you are promised to the young man making sheep’s eyes at you from across the room.”

“Mr. May,” she said with dignity, “does not have sheep’s eyes.”

“Lamb’s then. So, are you committed for the waltz?”

“No,” she said. “I can leave whenever—”

“Good,” he interrupted and relapsed into silence for Mrs. Gallini’s climactic finish.

Caroline could do no less than applaud with enthusiasm.

Mr. Benedict said, “I’ll just speak to Rosa…” and moved away.

Somewhat confused by Benedict’s remarks about the waltz, Caroline wondered if he actually meant to dance with the singer, which she doubted was socially acceptable. Such niceties would not weigh with him. She rose, thinking to go in search of Miss Benedict and warn her of the planned departure. But before she reached the door, the musicians had struck up the opening strains of a waltz and as she stepped into the gallery, an arm at her back swept her along the floor among the forming couples.

Shocked, she gazed up into the scarred face of her employer. “Oh no,” she blurted. “You mustn’t. People will talk!”

“People will always talk.”

Her hand was lost in his. He stepped back, and she had to follow. “But your wounds—” she said anxiously.

“If I collapse at your feet, you must run for help.”

She scowled at his flippancy. “You won’t listen to anything I say, will you?”

“I listen to everything you say.”

“And immediately discount it!”

“Quite the contrary.”

She could think of nothing to say to that. Her normally sharp mind seemed to have lost track of everything except the dance. Surprisingly, despite his lame leg, he moved with grace and sureness of foot, as if the rhythm of the dance helped rather than hindered him. And for all her genuine objections—on his behalf and hers—there was something unspeakably sweet about dancing in his arms, about being so close to him for so long. His eyes held hers, a faint smile playing about his lips that looked faintly predatory, and yet even that excited rather than frightened her. It felt almost as if she was meant to be there…stupid, dangerous thought.

“You waltz well, Miss Grey.”

“Thank you. I have to teach the steps to my pupils. What is your excuse?”

“It was my duty. All Wellington’s officers have to waltz.”

“Even when injured?” she challenged.

“Especially when injured. There’s no mollycoddling in his lordship’s army.”

Something in his tone made her say, “You miss it.”

“I was a soldier for eighteen years, so yes, I suppose I miss it.”

“Couldn’t you go back?”

“No.” A flash of pain and something far more corroding darkened his face, and then his eyelids swooped down and his lips untwisted into a smile. “No, I can’t go back. One never can, you know. The trick is to look forward. You have taught me that.”

Her eyes widened. “I have?”

“We were standing still at Haven Hall, locked in the isolation of the present. Protected, safe but…”

“Bored?” she suggested.

A breath of laughter escaped him, warming her skin. “And stagnating. I was protecting Rosa, but you are helping her.”

She thought of the stranger who, at sight of Benedict, had fled the party he’d only just arrived at. He had to be something to do with the family’s past, something to do with his protection of Rosa?

“Thank you,” he said softly.

It wasn’t so much his words but the warmth in his eyes and voice that made her flush to her toes.

“Thanks are not necessary,” she managed. “If I have helped, then I’m glad.”

“You are, aren’t you? What a selfless little creature you are.”

Her flush deepened. “You needn’t make fun of me.”

“Oh, my dear, I wasn’t.”

“Don’t call me that,” she all but hissed.

“Then you do not regard me as a father figure.”

She blinked. “Father? There cannot be more than ten years between us!”

“I suppose that answers my question.”

Before the thrilling heat in his eyes, she dropped her gaze to his chin. She hoped it was the dance that made her breathe so quickly.

It isn’t. It’s him…

She didn’t want it to stop. And yet she knew this was madness. For one thing, although he took long walks, the continuous movement of the dance could not be good for his injured leg.

“I should go and find Miss Benedict and Rosa,” she said breathlessly. “I think this is long enough for her.”

Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed, he released her and offered her his arm until they had walked clear of the dancers. She could not look at him as she all but fled into the card room.

Miss Benedict had, fortunately, just finished a game of whist with Miss Muir and a couple of her friends and seemed happy enough to depart. They discovered Rosa and Mr. Benedict in the larger drawing room, making their farewells to Lady Tamar.

To Caroline’s surprise, Serena hugged her, a faintly anxious look in her eyes. “Take care,” she murmured. “And remember where I am.”