It was a heady, delightful feeling, standing in the midst of the gentlemen, her emeralds glittering as brightly as Lord Bantam’s buckles.
But it wasn’t her emeralds that were attracting them. She knew that. It was the secret smile in her eyes, her peony lips, the sensuality in the way she moved.
She caught sight of Effie and introduced herself as Victoria’s sister Kate.
“Kate?” Effie breathed, and then smiled mischievously, dropping a curtsy. “What a pleasure to meet you! Why, I adore Victoria.” And then Effie was in the circle as well, the two of them laughing and flirting with all the men at once.
“I am a terrible dancer,” she said to the Earl of Ormskirk, whom Henry had decided would be her first partner. Interestingly enough, Effie had bestowed her hand on Lord Hathaway rather than the younger bucks vying for her attention.
He leaned forward as if mesmerized and breathed, “Would you like to sit this dance out, Miss Daltry?”
Ormskirk had a strong chin and bright blue eyes. He looked like a man who was more comfortable on a horse than in a study. He would never read a journal about Ionian antiquities, whatever those were. Even after reading two articles, she still wasn’t quite sure.
He was a man of deeds and not words. She favored him with a smile and was rewarded with another kiss on her hand. “I should prefer to dance,” she told him lightly. “But you, my lord, must take pity on me and tell me exactly what to do. I simply cannot keep these reels in my head.”
“Neither can I,” Ormskirk confided. “I always find myself going the wrong direction. But this is a polonaise and that’s easy enough. The trick is just to keep slowly promenading about until everyone stops. Quite boring, really.”
He was right; it was easy enough. Kate kept her eyes fastened on him so that she wouldn’t, by any stray chance, see Gabriel.
Even the thought caused a jolt of anguish, but her smile didn’t waver.
The earl responded to her attention like a flower in the sun. At the end of the polonaise he surrendered her to Lord Bantam with obvious reluctance. But he reappeared a very short time later, when she was about to dance with Toloose, and plucked that gentleman by the sleeve.
Kate raised an eyebrow as Toloose made an excuse and walked away.
“My goodness, sir, you remind me of a court magician,” she said. “How on earth did you frighten away poor Mr. Toloose? I was looking forward to admiring his coat at closer range.”
“Toloose looks like a peacock, but he’s actually a solid fellow,” Ormskirk said. “I wanted to dance with you again, and so I arranged the perfect dance.”
She smiled at him, noting the way his eyes lingered on her lips and the curve of her bosom.
“A waltz,” Ormskirk said triumphantly.
Kate knew the answer to that one. “My goodness, my stepmother never allowed me to learn the waltz! And I believe that my godmother explicitly instructed me not to waltz.”
“How lucky for us that your stepmama isn’t here,” Ormskirk said. The twinkle in his eye made up, to some extent, for his high forehead. The poor earl was conspicuously going bald, though he was doing it in a distinguished fashion. It certainly wasn’t his fault that his forehead shone so in the light of all these candles.
Kate frowned, trying to remember what Gabriel had said the night before about the waltz. It was licentious, she knew that. “Perhaps . . . Oh! There’s my godmother,” she said with some relief. “Henry, darling!”
“Ah, Ormskirk,” Henry said. “I thought you’d be back.”
“It’s a waltz next,” he said to her, with a curious kind of intensity. “I’ve asked Miss Daltry if I might escort her onto the floor.”
“Ah,” Henry said, looking him up and down. “Well . . .” She nodded and seemed to come to a decision. “I haven’t any objections as long as you don’t cannon into me and Leo. I adore the waltz, but some couples act like a pair of horses spooked by a fly bite.”
Ormskirk grinned at that. “I fancy I can keep within the traces,” he said lightly, and turned to Kate, holding out his hand. “Miss Daltry?”
For some reason, she felt strangely reluctant to dance with him again . . . but that was foolish. It was just the crush, and the way Henry’s perfume filled the air around her, and the heat of candles.
“The dance floor will be far less crowded than here,” Henry was saying to Leo, “given as most of the debutantes will sit out unless that silly prince asks them to dance. I expect they’ll all line up, the better to ogle him.”
Kate stiffened her backbone. She wasn’t going to stand on the side while Gabriel circled the floor with his betrothed. She gave Ormskirk a smile, one guaranteed to make the pretty flush on his cheeks rise even higher. “As long as you can steer me, my lord. For I must warn you that I am terribly inexperienced in this dance.”
He reached out, blue eyes steady, and took her hand. “Miss Daltry,” he said, “it would be my honor and my privilege to lead you in your first waltz.”
Thirty-eight
G abriel wore a coat of heavy embroidered silk that had been made for his presentation at the Austrian court. He knew what he had to do—and he would do it. Manfully.
No, royally.
He thrust a leg before Tatiana, gracefully extending a hand in a deep bow, a bow he had been taught by gentlemen who had spent their lives in the French court. The princess was pleasingly attired in a demure white ball gown. But it was adorned with real Brussels lace, and its sleeves were trimmed with swansdown.
Her delight quivered from every smile, every sideways glance at him, every shining glance she threw at other ladies.
Tatiana was confident, as well she might be.
He danced with her, he danced with others, he danced with Sophonisba, who cursed him for bending one of the feathers decorating her headdress. He had an odd little conversation with Toloose, who looked at him with something akin to rage in his eyes, and said out of the blue, “ She doth teach the torches to burn bright .”
“Isn’t that from Romeo and Juliet ?” Gabriel asked, confusedly thinking of his goodbye with Kate.
Toloose nodded toward Tatiana, who was dimpling as she smiled up at Gabriel’s uncle. “Shakespeare might have learned everything he knew merely from a glance at her eyes.” And then he walked off without another word.
Gabriel shrugged and danced with Henry, who smiled at him with genuine amusement and said, “I imagine you have seen my goddaughter by now.”
“I have not had that pleasure,” he stated.
“Well, then, you’re the only one in the ballroom,” she said cheerfully. “My goodness, Prince, your face is as white as marble. I do hope you’re not feeling ill. Everyone is having such a wonderful time.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said woodenly.
“You probably were not aware of the fact. One is generally unable to tell if an Englishman is enjoying himself until he collapses in a drunken heap in the corner,” she added. “There are a great deal more betrothals being fashioned here besides your own, Your Highness.”
He smiled, though he hated her for that comment. For the way her eyes assessed him, for the way she mentioned his betrothal, for the—
For the glinting challenge in her eyes.