She considered that a success.
“You should just have some fun,” Elowyn murmured. “Don’t waste your whole night on me. Dance. Be merry.”
“How tragic, coming from you.”
Elowyn laughed at her friend’s teasing. How many times had they said that to her and how many times had she ignored their urging in favor of her beloved seat on the side. “I’m being serious.”
“I’ll enjoy myself once you enjoy your first dance,” Persephone said. “My heart will rest easy once I witness you stepping on Stagbourne’s toes.”
Elowyn rolled her eyes.
Almost in unison, the music drew to a close on a final, lingering note, and the dancers came to a gradual stop.
Elowyn’s heart gave a determined little leap. This was it.
She glanced at Persephone, and her friend answered with a bright, encouraging grin.
“Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it, Elowyn.” A bubble of laughter escaped her friend. “I take that back, perhaps you do. Good luck.”
Elowyn inwardly scoffed at the tease. She couldn’t even argue. However, that was still all the encouragement she required. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, she marched straight toward Stagbourne before she could lose her nerve. The previous night was still ripe in her mind, but she wouldn’t let such a slight setback ruin this moment.
He stood not far off, handing off his dance partner, his profile pleasant in a way that made her stride purposeful and unwavering. Unlike a certain duke.
Don’t think of that coxcomb barbarian, Elowyn.
Elowyn scarcely felt the floor beneath her feet as she reached the earl and, with as much composure as she could summon, simply held out her dance card. In her head, that was all she had to do, but standing before the man, she couldn’t help but add, “Lord Stagbourne, would you do me the honor of—”
Her dance card was snatched out of her hand.
“No need,” a deep voice followed, sending shivers all over her body.
She glanced over her shoulder and met dark eyes that burned so hot she swore twin flames danced within them. “I’ll do you the honor.”
***
He stood corrected. Lady Elowyn’s schemes were a big bloody problem. A problem he’d never experienced before. A problem that wasn’t going to go away until he did something about the problem. After all, a fact was only a fact until faced with evidence to the contrary. And he was staring at that face right now. Staring into its eyes that sparkled like jewels.
What happened to staying away, you fool?
What happened was he’d gotten hot coals beneath his feet and wished to observe from a distance. What happened was that distance evaporated step by step as she stared at Stagbourne dancing with stars in her eyes. What happened was his bloody temper snapped the moment she stopped before the earl and handed her dance card over like the man was her damn hero.
A waltz struck up, and Julien gave a curt nod to Stagbourne, who looked at them quizzically. He ignored the man and scribbled his name on the card before pressing it back into her hand, his own moving to the small of her back and guiding the stunned wildflower to the dancefloor.
“What are you doing?” she hissed in a hushed voice.
Julien pulled her into his hold, his hand pressing more firmly against the small of her back, the other closing around her gloved fingers and lifting them to shoulder height. The proper distance the waltz demanded between a man and a woman who had no business being anywhere near each other. And it didn’t feel proper at all. Not with her standing close enough that he caught the faint scent of orange blossom clinging to her skin, close enough to see the exact moment fury replaced shock in those jewel-bright eyes. “Dancing.”
He pulled her into the first turn, and the ballroom tilted around them—candlelight, curious faces, Stagbourne’s frown—all of it spinning past while she remained fixed at the center of his vision.
“That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it!” She missed a step, and he caught her before she stumbled, his hand tightening at her back, listening patiently to her vent. “I thought we had a deal, Mandeville. An exchange. Not you glued to my hip for all of London to see!”
What could he even say to that? That his command over his impulses had perished a tragic death where she was concerned? “I couldn’t help myself.”
“That’s not answer enough.”
Julien cursed in his heart. He’d acted bloody impulsively and now he didn’t know how to counter his recklessness, so he opted for the most truthful thing he could offer, “Dansbury came to call on me.”