Page 72 of Trouble

‘Would I .?.?. ?’ she said, daring him to actually say it. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

Captain Edwards narrowed his eyes, but there was no real anger in his expression.

‘Miss Laurence, would you care to dance?’

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘To dance?’ Emily said, disbelievingly. ‘Here? In front of all of your .?.?. society friends?’

‘I traditionally dance with the staff,’ he said. ‘Well – thefemalestaff,’ he amended. ‘Not that I haven’t tried asking Joe.’

‘Far be it from me to keep you from tradition,’ said Emily, but it had lessened her anticipation somewhat to realise that he had not, in fact, singled her out. This was all just part of the show: the kind and benevolent master of the house deigning to entertain the little people, for one night of the year. She hadn’t made any sort of move closer to him, or to the dance floor, and when Captain Edwards held his hand out to her she almost didn’t take it.

‘Please,’ he said.

That one word, spoken quietly enough that it was for Emily alone, broke her resolve. She took his hand and glanced back over at Meera and Akia, both of whom were watching with their heads together, definitely discussing her in muttered tones.

It was easy to roll her eyes and feign amused reluctance until they actually reached the floor, but the melody the musicians were starting to play was slow, and the steps were unfamiliar, and Emily was suddenly floundering.

‘I .?.?. can’t dance,’ she said, stepping in closer to Captain Edwards to make sure he heard and understood her. ‘I mean it. I don’t know the steps. You’re going to lose an ankle.’

He looked at her seriously, ignoring the fact that others around them had begun to move. He didn’t look like Grace’s and Aster’s father tonight. He looked like .?.?. a man at a ball. A bright-eyed, mussed-hairedsuitor.

‘I can get by with just the one.’

When they joined the dance, Emily’s panic was coming to a head. He didn’tunderstand. When would she have ever learned how to dance like this? She missed the first steps, her gaze stuck on the lady next to her as she attempted to copy her; after her second blunder, she was tempted to turn around and walk right back out of the ballroom, feeling frustration rising in her throat.

But then Captain Edwards found her hand again and tugged it just a little, so that Emily was forced to take a step closer; she looked up and caught his eye, and found that if she kept watching him, it wasn’t so difficult to work out where to put her feet.

His hands guided her at her wrist and waist, pulling her in and then pushing her away in time to the swell of the music, and whenever she found herself unmoored it wasn’t long before he was holding her again, keeping time for them both.

It was only halfway through that Emily realised none of the other partners were dancing like that; they would meet in a perfunctory sort of way, a quick grasp of hands before parting, only the boldest among them daring to linger with fingers trailing along wrists or the seams of bodices.

Even the boldest weren’t touching each other as much as Captain Edwards was touching her.

The realisation sparked unfamiliar, prickling heat wherever he placed his hands, no matter how chaste his touch was, and Emily was so overcome that it took all her willpower and concentration to keep dancing rather than come to an abrupt standstill. Even through sleeve or dress or glove, it felt as if his fingers were pressing into bare, unclothed skin.

It was almost too much – the sweeping violin, and the wine hot in her chest, and Captain Edwards watching her so carefully as he led her – and then suddenly itwastoo much. She became aware of herself within the room again: aware that people were gawping at her, eager to see who Captain Edwards was dancing so closely with. The dance hadn’t finished when Emily stepped away, pushing back her hair and smoothing her dress in an attempt to put right everything that had been disarranged. She sensed a few sidelong glances, a few mutters of surprise, but she left them all behind as she finally escaped.

She was out of the front door and halfway down the drive when she came to a stop, the air chilling the skin of her arms not encased in ridiculous borrowed gloves, her breathing harsh and loud in the near-windless night.

That had been stupid. Andunfair. How dare Captain Edwards dance with her like that – so intimately, so attentively, as if it reallymatteredto him – in front of absolutely everybody, probably imagining that he was doing her some sort of favour? The shame welled up in her and spilled, flooding her with icy regret.

Somebody was calling her name from the house.

No. Nothername. Amy’s name.

Captain Edwards was standing in the doorway, haloed all over by warm light. She started walking away again, with no destination in mind.

‘Amy,’ he said again. ‘Please.’

Emily was shaking her head. Both at theAmyand theplease. She hadn’t run out here because she’d wanted to be chased and caught; if that had been the point, she’d have gone slowly, and not ruined both her shoes and her hair in the process.

The captain caught up with her where the drive became the road, and Emily suddenly felt so foolish she didn’t want him to look at her.

‘I didn’t want to dance,’ she said, crossing her arms as if she might be able to keep all her feelings safely in her chest that way.

‘I’m sorry.’