Earl Lessons by Valerie Bowman

Chapter Fifteen

David watched as Annabelle came walking back toward where he stood with Marianne and Lady Angelina. He’d just finished dancing with the last of the three ladies they’d introduced to him. Annabelle was right. All three ladies were lovely and seemed clever and well-mannered. Of course, he would need to spend more time with each before deciding if he was truly interested in courting any of them.

Lady Heloise seemed kind and guileless. Lady Titiana was more reserved, but poised and witty. Lady Elspeth had seemed particularly eager to meet him, and appeared to know the most about him. She’d asked him more than one question about Brighton. She was probably the prettiest and most talkative of the lot, though her beauty didn’t compare to Annabelle’s.

“Did you enjoy your dances?” Annabelle asked him the moment she returned to his side.

David bowed to her slightly. “I did indeed. Were you dancing too?”

Annabelle poked a finger in her coiffure. “No, actually. I was taking a walk around the room…with Lady Elspeth.”

David’s brows shot up. “Lady Elspeth? Did she happen to say anything about me?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Annabelle said as she took a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing footman. David and Marianne did the same. “A lady never discusses her private talks with other ladies.”

“I see,” David asked, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Lady Elspeth had said to Annabelle. Had she told her he was an unredeemable mess? He supposed that news would spread like wildfire through the ballroom if so.

“David,” Marianne interjected. “Do you fancy any of the ladies you’ve met tonight?”

David took a sip from his flute. “Fancy them? I just met them.”

Marianne waved a hand in the air. “I only meant do you find any of them to be particularly attractive, either in countenance or bearing?”

David shook his head. “They were all quite lovely. But for all I know, they don’t fancy me.”

“Don’t be difficult, David, just answer the question,” Marianne replied, a smile covering her face.

“Very well.” David sighed. “Lady Elspeth impressed me. She asked me about my time in the army and our lives in Brighton.”

Was it his imagination or did Annabelle frown? He was about to open his mouth to praise something about Lady Heloise but a familiar-looking man with dark-blond hair in fine-cut evening attire came striding up to them.

The man bowed to Annabelle. “My lady. Good to see you again.”

Annabelle made a perfect curtsy. Her face remained completely blank. “Lord Murdock.”

Murdock! Of course. He looked different in his formal evening attire, but he was the same man who’d been discussing the bets on Annabelle’s marriage status at White’s.

“I’d hoped you had reconsidered and would do me the honor of dancing with me, Lady Annabelle,” Lord Murdock said.

Reconsidered? That must mean he’d asked Annabelle to dance earlier, and she’d turned him down. That was interesting.

This time Annabelle smiled at him prettily before saying, “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”

Murdock gave them all a self-satisfied smirk, while Annabelle handed her champagne flute to her mother. Lady Angelina’s eyes were wide as tea saucers watching Annabelle leave their little group.

David observed them with a decided frown on his face as they made their way to the dance floor. That blowhard had bet money on whether Annabelle would marry this Season. Did he intend to be the lucky groom?

The moment the couple began the waltz that had just begun to play, Lady Angelina turned to Marianne. “That’s strange. I haven’t seen her accept a dance with a truly eligible gentleman in an age.”

“Really?” Marianne asked, her gaze glancing from side to side. “Do you think she’s finally interested?”

Lady Angelina’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know, but Lord Murdock is considered by many to be the best catch in London, especially now that Beau, Lord Worthington, and Lord Kendall are all betrothed.”

“Hasn’t he been after her all these years? She’s shown no interest before, has she?” David interjected, suddenly feeling out of sorts. He glared at the couple on the dance floor.

“He was recently tossed over by Lady Julianna Montgomery, who is now engaged to our dear Lord Worthington,” Lady Angelina added.

“Oh, yes,” Marianne replied, frowning. “I remember that name now. Julianna told me he threw a fit when she jilted him. He sounded quite unpleasant.”

“It was quite a scandal last autumn,” Lady Angelina said, nodding. Then she lifted her light brows. “But a handsome, rich marquess is always welcome back to the marriage mart. I do hope Annabelle has changed her mind about allowing him to court her. They make a lovely pair, don’t you think?”

“They do,” Marianne said, a wistful tone in her voice that David didn’t care for.

He scrunched up his nose and narrowed his eyes on the couple. Unfortunately, there was no doubt they made a striking pair. Was it his imagination, or did the marquess miss a step in the dance? He clearly wasn’t an expert at the waltz. Annabelle deserved a better partner.

Before he had a chance to examine his motivation, David pressed his glass in his sister’s hand. “Hold my drink,” he said, before stomping off in the direction of Annabelle and her marquess.

* * *

Annabelle didn’t knowexactly what happened, but one moment she was dancing with Lord Murdock, trying to remember precisely why she’d thought he was petulant, and the next she was in David’s arms.

She blinked at him several times as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. “David, what are you—?”

“I cut in,” he answered, pride in his voice. “Murdock didn’t seem your match for a waltz.”

She stared at him as if he’d lost his senses. “Didn’t seem my what?”

“He missed a step,” David insisted, leading her perfectly in the one-two-three cadence of the waltz.

“I didn’t notice,” Annabelle shot back.

“He also had his hand too far down your back.”

“Are you mad?” She eyed him carefully. “One doesn’t just cut in on a dance floor at a ball in London.”

“Yes, one does, apparently. If one is me.” He gave her a smug smile.

Annabelle glanced around at the partygoers standing on the sidelines. There were already people whispering behind their hands. She would have to work diligently to fix this after the dance ended. “Listen to me, David. Such things are not done. I didn’t mention it during our lessons because it didn’t occur to me that you might do something like this, but you simply don’t interrupt a couple’s dance.”

David’s face went blank. “Perhaps that’s the difference between an earl born in a cottage in Brighton versus one born in London with a silver spoon sticking out of his mouth. I do what I please.”

Annabelle glanced around again. In addition to the commotion they’d caused on the sidelines, now some of the other dancers were watching their conversation become more heated. This was not good, and getting worse by the moment.

Plastering a fake smile on her face, Annabelle lowered her voice. “Very well. We’ll finish this dance, for appearance’s sake. But we’ll need to talk about this more tomorrow morning at our next lesson.”

David plastered an equally false smile on his face too. “Oh, good. I cannot wait.”

Annabelle kept the fake smile on her face as she allowed herself to relax into the waltz. Just as he’d done in the salon at home, David spun her around the floor as if he’d been born to waltz. A much more fluid and confident dancer than Lord Murdock had been, David danced as if he’d invented the steps.

She tried not to notice how good he smelled, or the feel of his muscles beneath his coat or the heat spreading through her entire body from his hand touching the small of her back. She met his gaze and their eyes remained locked. For the remainder of the dance, it was as if the entire ballroom had fallen away and they were the only two people left in the world.

When the dance finally ended, David escorted Annabelle back to their group as if nothing untoward had happened at all.

Annabelle immediately began thinking of ways to mitigate the gossip. She searched the crowd for Murdock. How had he taken the slight of having been sent packing from the dance floor? Lord Murdock was already dancing with another young woman. Thank heavens. That would surely help. If the man was pouting in a corner, the gossip would be unmanageable.

Next, Annabelle again scanned the crowd along the sidelines of the dancing. How had the mothers and chaperones felt about David’s cutting in? Was he already garnering a reputation as an ill-mannered clod? She desperately hoped the ton would be kind, and grant him some leniency. But when had the ton ever been kind, or ever granted leniency? Word of this social slight would be in the papers tomorrow, no doubt.

Lady Elspeth came sliding over to David just then and declared, “Lord Elmwood, you’ve made cutting in all the rage this Season. I do hope you’ll pay me the same regard when next I’m dancing with another gentleman.”

The other ladies and gentlemen, who had followed Elspeth and were hanging on her every word, all laughed and declared the same thing. By the time a quarter hour had passed, everyone was talking about either cutting into a dance or being cut in upon.

Annabelle stared with her mouth open at the people she’d known her entire life. In the span of one evening, they’d decided that both Lady Elspeth and David were to be emulated in every particular.

Nauseating, as far as Lady Elspeth went. But welcome and wonderful when it came to David. Annabelle nodded resolutely. Fine then. She’d done her duty. She’d set him off to a fair start. Why, he might already be the most eligible bachelor of the Season, and if he wasn’t, he was well on his way.

Lord Murdock was finishing his dance with the other young lady and appeared to be headed toward her again. Annabelle previously may have had a momentary lapse in judgement in which she accepted his offer to dance, but she didn’t relish an awkward conversation with him now. She retrieved her champagne flute from her mother and ducked to the side. “I’m going to take some fresh air in the gardens. I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

Watching Annabelle go,David whispered to Marianne. “I don’t think she appreciated my cutting in.”

Marianne shook her head at her brother. “Are you jesting? You’ve started a new trend. And your first time at a London ball, at that.” Marianne lifted her champagne glass in silent salute. “I heard no less than half a dozen young ladies say they hoped you’d cut in on their next dance partner.”

“I’m done with dancing for the evening,” David muttered, taking a reluctant sip from his glass.

“Don’t tell the young ladies that,” Marianne replied in a singsong voice. “You want to be the catch of the Season, don’t you?”

David shook his head. “This catch is going out for some fresh air, too, but not in the gardens. Far, far, away from the gardens, actually.”

“Have fun,” Marianne replied, still smiling.

David made his way toward the French doors on the far opposite side of the ballroom than the ones Annabelle had left through moments earlier. The last thing he needed was more gossip about himself and Annabelle. When he’d cut in on her dance with Murdock, David had merely been trying to save her feet from an incompetent dancer. That was all. But apparently, these people turned every small gesture into gossip. Annabelle had taken him to task for it. Fine. Next time he’d allow her slippers to be stomped upon. She’d chosen to dance with Murdock, hadn’t she? Even though she claimed she had no interest in being courted. Why did she say one thing and do another? And even more maddening, why the bloody hell did David care? He tossed back the final bit of his champagne before taking a fresh glass from a footman’s tray and leaving the ballroom.

The chilly spring night air hit David in the face the moment he stepped outside. He breathed it in gladly. It had become stuffy in the ballroom with all the candles, the dancing, and the bodies pressed together along the sidelines.

He sauntered across the verandah, and leaning his forearms atop the stone balustrade, stared down into the darkened landscape. The evening had gone well enough so far. The three ladies Annabelle had introduced him to certainly seemed promising. But if they were so promising, why weren’t any of them the one woman he was still thinking about? A vision of Annabelle in her glowing golden gown and matching gloves danced through his mind. Her laugh. The tone of her voice. The elegant arch of her neck. The way her mouth quirked up in that endearing little smile. He couldn’t stop thinking about any of it. Damned inconvenient. The woman had already made it quite clear that she was singularly uninterested in being courted. And if she were, he’d no doubt be the last man in London she’d be interested in, given his inexperience and lack of decorum. She’d just taken him to task for cutting in, for Christ’s sake. So why was he standing here wanting to court her? Was it merely that he’d always wanted what he couldn’t have? Or was Annabelle special? Unlike any of the other ladies in the stuffy ballroom. A breath of air as fresh as the ones he was inhaling at the moment.

A slight noise in the bushes below caught his attention and he leaned farther to see Annabelle herself walking in the darkened gardens. She was making her way to the nearby staircase that led up to him.

David briefly considered returning to the house before she made it up the stairs. That would be the right thing to do. The intelligent thing to do. But apparently, he was neither right nor intelligent this evening, because when Annabelle stepped onto the verandah, David was standing with his back against the balustrade, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

“Lost?” he asked, smiling at her sweetly.

Annabelle lifted her chin. “There were too many people on the other side of the house. I was…looking for more privacy.”

“Sorry to keep you from it with my presence,” he drawled.

“We shouldn’t be seen together,” Annabelle replied.

David glanced around. “No one else is here. How would we be seen?” He gave her another patient smile.

Annabelle lifted her skirts and marched past him. “I’m afraid you don’t know how the ton works. If someone were to happen outside and see us together, there would be gossip.”

David stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “There’s already gossip,” he replied. “And besides, I was under the impression that we’d have to be doing something compromising to be the subject of real gossip.”

* * *

Annabelle inhaled sharplythe moment his hand touched her. She was staring ahead into the crowded, brightly lit ballroom, struggling against the desire to lean back against him.

“That’s true,” she finally allowed. “I suppose as long as we remain a decent length apart and are merely talking to one another…” She moved several paces away from him along the balustrade and turned to face him.

“Very well. You stay there and I’ll stay here.” He motioned to the distance between them. “Did you enjoy your dance with Lord Murdock?”

“You mean before you cut in?” She gave him a mock-sweet smile.

David’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip. “Yes.”

Why did he have to look so charming and boyish when he bit his lip that way? She struggled to recall why she was annoyed with him. Oh, yes. “Why did you cut in? And don’t tell me that nonsense about Lord Murdock not being a good enough waltz partner.”

David leaned his right elbow on the balustrade and shrugged his left shoulder. “Why did you dance with him? I thought you said you weren’t interested in being courted.”

Annabelle nearly stamped her foot. “One dance is a far cry from being courted. Besides I didn’t think you would have even noticed, what with all the dance partners you had this evening.”

David immediately stood up straight and narrowed his eyes on her. “Oh, my God. You’re jealous?”

“What? No!” Annabelle wheeled around to face out into the darkness, bracing her forearms on the balustrade. She refused to even entertain that ridiculous notion. Jealous? Her? Madness.

He stalked toward her and stopped beside her, staring at her profile. “Yes. You are. You’re jealous because I didn’t ask you to dance.”

Still facing the darkened gardens, Annabelle lifted her nose in the air. “I wouldn’t dance with you if you asked.”

“Why not?” he asked softly.

She lifted her gaze to the starry night sky while David moved even closer.

“Tell me something.” His voice was husky, deep. It sent a tremor through Annabelle’s center. “Aside from dancing and fetching drinks, would a gentleman ever have an opportunity to, say, kiss a lady?”

Annabelle kept her gaze steadfastly forward, but she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “Kiss? Absolutely not.” Her voice sounded stern, but it shook slightly. She was nervous. He was making her nervous.

David leaned a forearm on the balustrade next to her. He reached out with his other hand and traced the skin just above where her glove met her bare arm. “Never?”

Annabelle swallowed again and straightened her shoulders. But she did not step away from him. Her blasted, traitorous voice continued to shake. “Not unless…they were alone together.”

David looked pointedly around at the empty verandah before turning and setting his glass behind him on the balustrade. Then he faced her again.

Annabelle turned to him and tipped back her head to look directly up at David. Her heart was pounding like a hare’s in a trap. Why did she feel panicked and thrilled at the same time? She had to keep talking. Talking would solve this. Talking would keep this from turning into something it shouldn’t. “If a gentleman were interested in a kiss from a lady, he should most definitely ask first,” she said in a rush, looking away. Her body was hot and cold all over and, for the second time in her life—both, coincidentally, in David’s company—she felt faint. No. This wasn’t truly happening. David wasn’t thinking of…kissing her. Was he? That would be madness. She’d lost her mind. That’s all. Her mind was gone.

She made the mistake of glancing over at him again. She shouldn’t have done that, because what she saw was David’s tongue flick out to dab at the corner of his mouth. All she could do was stare, her own mouth going conspicuously dry.

“Ask first?” David said, his fingertip tracing down the length of her gloved arm to linger at her wrist. “That sounds like something a fop would do.”

Annabelle shook her head, trying desperately to keep her voice from shaking more. “N…n…no. It’s only courteous. What if the lady doesn’t welcome your advances?”

What in God’s name was wrong with her? She’d never been this skittish around a man before. Through the years, she’d sent well over a score of them packing when they’d become overly familiar. What made this encounter with David any different?

“I would never force myself on a lady who didn’t welcome my advances.” His fingertip moved back and forth across her knuckles.

It was only her hand, her gloved hand, but somehow his touch was melting her. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her breath came in shallow pants. “Without asking her, how could you possibly know?” She wanted to sound confident and self-assured. Instead, her voice sounded frightened and squeaky.

Stop it, Annabelle. You’re making a fool of yourself.

David arched a brow at her. “I think I can tell if a lady would welcome my kiss.”

“That’s arrogant,” she insisted, lifting her chin in the hopes that the small action would restore her control of the situation. But she knew, had known from the moment she saw him on the verandah, perhaps from the moment he’d cut in on her dance with Lord Murdock so dauntlessly…the reason this was different from the other men who’d made unwanted advances was because this was David.

And his advances weren’t unwanted.

“Perhaps it is arrogant,” he replied, his voice slow and husky, “but there’s only one way to find out.” Clutching her wrist, he pulled her expertly into his arms and his lips came crushing down on hers.