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‘G’day, Sloane.’ Duprey’s voice cracked. ‘Didn’t know you’d be here. Been an age. Not at Bisou’s these days?’
Duprey not only wore the dandy’s tight pantaloons, high collar points and elaborately tied neckcloth, but he also affected their irritating style of speech.
‘I am not pleased to see you here, Duprey,’ Sloane said fiercely.
The young man shifted from foot to foot.
Sloane glared at him. ‘If I discover you have said one word about this lady’s house and what happens here, I will personally come after you. You’ve heard rumours of how dangerous I can be, have you not?’
‘Eep!’ Duprey cried. ‘Won’t say a thing. Mum’s the word. Swear it.’
‘You had better swear it.’ For good measure he gave the terrified fellow another menacing look before walking back to Morgana’s side.
Miss Moore began to play, and Sloane was first paired with Katy. He could handle her. He knew her type, trying to act so self-assured, pushing herself forward lest she be forgotten entirely. He’d done likewise many a time.
Katy enthusiastically embraced Madame Bisou’s lessons, fluttering her lashes at him, touching him wherever she could reach. She even added a few moves not in the lecture, such as making sure he could look straight down her dress. It was a relief to next be partnered with the beautiful Rose, who was more subtle and easier on the eye.
They completed the drill on country dancing. Sloane glanced at Elliot, who stood next to Lucy, talking quietly to her. Duprey had finished dancing with Mary, whose complexion was flushed rather prettily. Duprey pulled at his collar. Morgana stood near her grandmother, looking almost as if she were recovered from his hurtful words.
‘Now what you have been waiting for. The waltz,’ Madame Bisou announced.
‘Gracious, I don’t know that one,’ cried Katy.
Lucy said quietly, ‘I don’t either.’
‘Not know the waltz?’ Madame Bisou trilled with laughter. ‘We shall teach you then.’ She pointed to Sloane. ‘Cyprian, you must demonstrate with Miss Hart.’
He had waltzed with Morgana on several occasions at Almack’s and other balls, but not in such a relaxed, friendly, seductive atmosphere.
He took her hand and led her out to the middle of the bare floor. He put his other hand to her waist and she put hers on his arm. Miss Moore began to play.
Their steps were awkward at first, perhaps from being observed, but soon the music caught hold.
‘Look at each other!’ commanded Madame Bisou.
Morgana lifted her eyes, like amber jewels, to his.
‘Make him hold you closer!’ Madame Bisou said, and Morgana moved towards him. He bent down, his face inches from hers, and gathered her to him. As they twirled around the room, he held her so close their bodies touched and their legs moved as one.
Too soon the music stopped. He forced himself to let go.
‘That was excellent, Cyprian.’ Penny’s voice broke in. They started to move away from each other. ‘Stay there,’ Penny ordered. ‘We are not done. Put your arms around each other again.’ She made her voice louder. ‘Everyone! Pretend the music has just stopped.’
Miss Moore replayed the final chord.
‘Now, Miss Hart,’ Penny instructed. ‘What you must do now is stand on tiptoe and kiss him.’
‘That’s the thing!’ cried Katy.
Morgana gave Bisou a startled look, but turned back to face Sloane. With her golden eyes wide, she rose on her toes while he lowered his head.
When her lips touched his, he felt his whole body flare with arousal and, all reserve gone, he put his arm around her, deepening the kiss, tasting her sweet, unschooled mouth at long last. His body craved more. Much more.
‘That’s enough,’ called Penny as the room burst into applause and giggles. ‘You did very well.’
He released Morgana, who looked as dazed as he felt.
Katy was his partner for the next waltz. She soon mastered the steps. At the end, her lips were more enthusiastic, more practised, and more frankly sexual, but it was Morgana’s kiss that lingered.
Morgana rested her hand on the back of her grandmother’s chair, pretending to watch the dancing. Instead she relived Sloane’s kiss, the feel of his lips against hers. She resisted the urge to touch her mouth with her fingers.
When she’d been younger, before she realised no man would want to marry her, she used to dream of her first kiss. How glad she was that it had been with Sloane.
She shook herself, regretting what she had said about his intention to marry. She’d given in to her envy of her cousin, who would be Sloane’s ornament and bed partner. That was not well done of her.
She glanced up and saw him smoothly guide Rose around the room. It was not Sloane who was out of step, but she. He was deftly making his place in society, with the same ease as he moved through the steps of the waltz. She was the one who did not fit.
After the dancing, they all went to the front drawing room for refreshment so that the footmen could return the library to its former state. Hungry and thirsty from the morning’s exertion, they eagerly consumed the lemonade and biscuits Cripps served, the butler revealing nothing of his thoughts of the morning’s activities. There was much laughter. Even Lucy laughed aloud at something Mr Elliot said to her.
Madame Bisou’s carriage soon arrived and she had to drag her friend Robert away from the book he and Mary had their noses in. After they left, Morgana glanced over to where Katy and Rose practised flirting with Sloane. He looked up at the same time and caught her watching him.
It was almost as if she could feel his lips on hers once more.
Lucy appeared next to her, Mr Elliot standing behind. ‘Beg pardon, Miss Hart, may Mr Elliot and I return to the garden? I had not finished showing him some of the plants.’
Morgana could not help but give the girl a quizzical look, but she said, ‘Of course you may, Lucy.’ Were they really sneaking away to bed?
The idea did not shock her at this moment. She touched her lips where Sloane had kissed and wondered what other thrills existed between men and women, matters Madame Bisou implied in every lesson. Until the feel of Sloane’s arms around her and his achingly tender, then eager, kiss, Morgana had not quite grasped the madam’s meaning.
Another carriage rumbled to a stop out in the street. Morgana wandered over to the window to see who it was. The blood drained from her face as she watched her aunt and cousin assisted from the carriage. ‘It is Aunt Winnie and Hannah.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Miss Moore wrung her hands.
‘How lovely,’ her grandmother said.
Morgana heard the knock at the door and Cripps open it. ‘It is too late to hide in the library.’ They would be seen from the hall. She turned to the girls. ‘You are Miss Moore’s nieces, remember. You know precisely how to behave.’
Cripps came to announce the visitors. Miss Moore whispered, ‘Katy, remember to be quiet and ladylike.’
Katy nodded, clamping her mouth shut.
Her aunt and cousin were the last people Morgana would wish to call upon her, especially with Sloane present, but she stood ready to face them. All the others rose from their chairs as well, standing like a line of soldiers behind their captain. Only her grandmother remained seated. Morgana patted her hair quickly and tried to tuck up the strands that had come loose during the waltz.
Her aunt and Hannah entered. Morgana smiled. ‘Why, Aunt Winnie, Hannah, how lovely to see you.’
‘Lovely to see you,’ Lady Hart parroted.
Her aunt looked perplexed at the room full of women. Hannah’s eyes landed directly on Sloane, though they narrowed considerably when she saw him standing between one pretty girl and one beautiful one.
‘Come, meet Miss Moore’s nieces.’ Morgana kept her voice light. ‘Remember, I told you they were visiting, and look who else has come to call—Mr Sloane.’
She made the introductions, but was not surprised when her aunt and cousin showed little curiosity. The nieces of a lady’s companion would no doubt be almost beneath their notice.
Hannah looked daggers at Rose, but when Sloane sat in the chair next to her, she brightened a little.
‘We decided we must call upon Morgana,’ Hannah remarked to him, but for all to hear. ‘We have been sadly remiss for not doing so before, but there are so many calls one must make. Today I insisted we must put her first on our list.’
Hannah regarded Sloane with her usual proprietary air, and Morgana pushed away another wave of envy, felt more acutely so soon after experiencing his kiss. Hannah had recently confided that Sloane had not made an offer, but had asked Hannah’s father if he would object to one. Uncle Cowdlin had not objected. According to Hannah it would be only a matter of time before her parents would be giving an engagement ball.
Morgana pressed a hand to her stomach.
Sloane had turned all his attention to Hannah. Katy sat very stiffly, her lips compressed into a tight line. Rose examined a piece of music that had been left on the table. Morgana sat between her grandmother and her aunt, trying to deflect any conversation that might cause her aunt to discover Lady Hart’s infirmity of mind.
After about five minutes, Sloane stood. ‘I have quite overstayed my welcome. It is time for me to take my leave.’
Morgana turned to him with a polite smile. ‘Thank you so much for calling, Mr Sloane. It was kind of you.’ She turned back to her aunt.
He said goodbye to the others and Hannah walked him to the drawing-room door. Sloane did not look at Morgana again.
After he left, Hannah and her mother prattled on for a few minutes about how Sloane was bound to offer for Hannah soon, information that had Rose, Katy and Mary passing surprised glances to each other. Then Hannah announced that she and her mother ought to depart to make their numerous other calls. Morgana saw them to the door and Cripps stood by to assist them.
‘You do come to Almack’s with us tonight, do you not, Morgana?’ her aunt asked.
‘Yes. Thank you so much for including me, Aunt Winnie.’ In truth, Morgana had found the ton’s marriage mart a bit tedious of late.
Hannah gave Morgana a quick hug. ‘Do not worry, Morgana. I will find some beaux to dance with you.’
‘Thank you, Hannah,’ Morgana responded tightly. ‘You are too good.’
Sloane stepped out of White’s after a dinner with Heronvale, during which the marquess had impressed upon him the necessity of a good marriage to succeed in politics. If that were not enough, Sloane’s father had made an appearance, infuriated that Sloane shared Heronvale’s table. The noise of carriages clattering by and the other street sounds were infinitely preferable to the Earl’s grating voice. As was his habit, Sloane glanced around him.
His nephew stood a few steps from the bow window. ‘Do you attend Almack’s, Uncle?’
It was easy to read on David’s countenance that he had something on his mind. ‘I am headed there now.’
‘May I walk with you?’ David smiled tentatively.
‘Certainly.’
‘Does your grandfather know you waited for me?’ Sloane asked as they crossed the street.
‘Never,’ exclaimed David. He glanced at Sloane. ‘He has it in for you, you know.’
Sloane laughed. ‘He always has had.’
‘I think it irrational,’ David said firmly. ‘I disapprove heartily.’
‘But not loudly, I hope.’ The boy was still at the Earl’s mercy, at least financially. Unless he wanted to take the hard road Sloane had taken, he’d best keep his opinions to himself.
His nephew flashed a quick smile and then they walked for a while in silence.
Finally David said, ‘I have called again upon Lady Hannah. I thought you should know.’
‘I’ve made no claim, David,’ Sloane said. ‘She is free to spend time with whom she pleases.’
‘But I respect your interest in her. I—I just wanted you to know my reasons make no infringement on your interest. As I explained, I cannot even think of marrying, so my time spent calling on her and taking her for a turn in the park is mere friendship. If I called upon someone else, it might raise the girl’s hopes unrealistically, but Lady Hannah has no expectation of me. It makes it a good arrangement between us.’
Sloane was glad Hannah had David’s company. The busier she was, the less guilty he felt for avoiding any decision about her.
‘Sounds fair,’ he said.
They arrived at Almack’s and soon entered the assembly room. Lady Hannah was already there. Her eyes lit up when she saw them approaching her.
But it was not Hannah who was on Sloane’s mind. The band struck up a waltz, and he waited for David to engage Hannah for the set. He scanned the assembly room, finally spying Morgana sitting alone at the room’s edge, a place for spinsters and dowagers.
He made his way to her. ‘May I have the honour of this dance?’
She looked up at him, her eyes as warm and sultry and melancholic as when they had waltzed earlier that day. Without a word she accepted his hand and held his arm as they walked to the dance floor.
Sloane had all he could do to keep from holding her as close as he’d done in their more intimate waltz. That evening Heronvale had called Morgana unconventional. If he only knew how unconventional she could be, willing to dance seductively for the edification of her courtesan students.
Heronvale made it clear he thought Lady Hannah a good choice for Sloane to marry—in spite of her unconventional cousin. Sloane had wrapped himself up so completely in Morgana’s difficulties, he’d hardly given Hannah a thought. The Season was coming to an end. He must surely make his move soon.
How was Sloane to contemplate marriage to Lady Hannah when his senses were consumed with bedding her cousin?
He shook himself. He was thinking like a rake again. The direction of his thoughts needed turning. ‘Why were you seated alone, Morgana?’ he asked instead.
‘Oh,’ she responded vaguely, avoiding looking up at him. ‘I have the headache, I suppose.’
‘Fustian,’ he said.
She did not reply.
‘I insist you tell me.’ He sounded demanding even to his own ears. Like his father.
She gave him a quick but defiant glance.
His tone softened. ‘Forgive me again, Morgana. I am acting the brute. I meant to say, it is not your nature to sit in corners. You typically enjoy whatever tedious entertainment the ton offers.’
‘Do I?’ She met his eye. ‘Or perhaps, like you, I merely pretend to enjoy myself.’
He nodded. ‘Touché.’
She increased the pressure on his hand, very slightly, but he did not miss it. ‘I am quarrelling again,’ she murmured. She wrinkled her forehead as if deep in thought. ‘I confess I do not find Almack’s to be the seventh heaven of the fashionable world. True, the intrigue of who dances with whom, which gentleman favours which young lady, who will next receive an offer of marriage, is all very interesting. And it does provide me an opportunity to dance.’
He pulled her in an infinitesimal bit closer. ‘You sound as if you are trying to convince yourself to enjoy it.’
She gave him a frank expression. ‘I suppose I am.’
