Shortly after Basil’s dinner at the Kentworthys’, Miss Hartford sent him a copy of the spell she had designed, some advice on the casting of it, and a small note encouraging him to visit her if he needed help. He had several pieces of paper in her handwriting at this point, but the small missive and attached spell felt far more personal and valuable than the others. He spent an embarrassing amount of time reading it and rereading it, thinking about how she had written it just for him and not for some unknown future customer.
He was relieved that by the night of the ball, Mary had been in mourning for six full months and could attend, although she wouldn’t be dancing for the remainder of the mourning period. Considering the fact that Lord Finlington had also invited the children to attend, he was particularly grateful for his stepmother’s presence.
The night of the ball, Basil dressed in his finest suit and helped Mary and Modesty herd the children into two separate carriages. Mary, Sophia, Lucy, Martin, and Grace took one carriage, while Basil, Modesty, Levinia, and the twins took the other. After they arrived, there was a similar amount of confusion in getting everyone out of the carriages, but the viscount’s staff assisted and soon Basil was leading his family into the house.
He entered the ballroom and was greeted immediately by the viscount and the dukex. Lord Finlington welcomed all of the children, assuring Basil that he was delighted they came and that they were welcome to explore the house if they were bored with the festivities. Basil wasn’t entirely sure about that, considering the elegance of the event. But he thanked his host, kissed the dukex’s knuckles, and went inside. Modesty encouraged the twins to take advantage of the viscount’s offer, took Lucy out of Basil’s arms, and gave him a small shove.
“Go ask your charming spellmaster to dance,” she said.
“You see her already?”
“She’s breathtaking in a salmon-colored gown. Quite a feat, really, with her hair. I daresay it has a great deal to do with having the confidence to pull it off. But she might be self-conscious all the same, especially with that dreadful sister-in-law, so make sure you tell her she looks lovely.”
He saw where she was pointing and felt his breath catch. Miss Hartford did indeed look beautiful, but then she always did. She was standing with the Kentworthys and Mr. Standish. Basil felt unsure about asking the lady to dance so early in the evening, especially in front of an audience.
“You need to make your interest known,” Modesty whispered. “Asking her for the first dance is a very polite and practical way to do it.”
“It won’t be presumptuous?”
She sighed. “It would be if you hadn’t spent so much time visiting with her and talking with her and getting to know her family and learning about her work and—”
“All right, all right. I’ll go.” He squared his shoulders and walked across the room, trying not to look like he was focused on a target.
Mr. Charles Kentworthy saw him first, which was a relief, because he smiled broadly and even gave Basil a wink as he approached.
Miss Hartford saw him and smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Thorne.”
He bowed, feeling awkward. “Miss Hartford. You look…lovely.”
She gave him a twinkling smile. “Thank you,” she said and leaned forward. “Veronica said I have no business wearing this color, but I thought it was pretty, so I ignored her.”
“I’m glad you did,” he said, thankful that Modesty had advised him to start with a compliment. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Her smile widened. “Yes, you may,” she said softly.
He led her onto the dance floor along with the other couples. He was vaguely aware of the Kentworthys, the Hearsts, and the Ladies Windham among those dancing. But when the music started and he took her in his arms, he noticed nothing else.
The color of her dress brought out the beautiful dark brown of her eyes and made her cheeks glow becomingly. Up close, he could see small copper tendrils curling around her face. She fit in his arms perfectly. She could have leaned forward and laid her cheek on his chest or rested her head on his shoulder: a perfect height. He wished she would. He could see the exact shape of her lips and the way the ends curved up slightly with good humor. They were keeping a proper distance, but he wished he could press her against him and feel the warmth of her body. He never wanted the dance to end. When he looked into her eyes, noticing tiny amber flecks within the brown, he thought she might be thinking the same thing.
It occurred to him he ought to make some effort at conversation. “You dance beautifully,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, her smile soft. “You do as well. Do you enjoy dancing?”
“Very much. It has been some time since I had the pleasure.” He hesitated. “I hope it would not be presumptuous to ask for a second opportunity to stand up with you?”
She blushed and bit her lip. “I would like that.”
“Would you like to dance the second set or wait?”
“Well…” she said in a musing tone. “We’re already on the dance floor…”
He grinned. “Perfect.”