Peggy felt her world reel as she was embraced by the gentleman. She had meant to tease him with a hint of flirtation, but all such intentions were forgotten in that moment as waves of heat flooded through her body and the scent of him took her breath away.
His laughter, too, seemed to have dissipated in a flash, and when he drew back, his gaze held an intensity that made her cheeks grow hot.
As the blush crept up Peggy’s cheeks, she dared not look at him for fear that he would detect the conflicting emotions that were beginning to rise within her, and so instead, she kept her gaze locked firmly on his shoulder until she could breathe again.
As they whirled about the room, she at last met his gaze—hoping to make some lighthearted comment to excuse her reaction—when she realized that he was looking down upon her with just as much passion as she felt herself. His pupils were dark and dilated, his breathing unsteady, and she wondered if he too had been unprepared for the feelings that their embrace had unleashed.
Peggy forced herself to focus on his shoulder beneath her hand. She had meant to focus on the threads or the pattern of his jacket, but instead all she noted was the heat of her hand against the warmth of him that she was acutely aware of even through the clothing.
How had this happened? When did this happen? She wracked her brain for any moment when she had harbored such shocking feelings for the brother of her friend and could recall none. Yes, she had thought him handsome from the beginning, but she had been too wrapped up in her own affairs to have noticed him in the way that a woman might notice a man, and yet, some subconscious part of her must have been doing so all along to have been struck by such a sudden wave of heat. For years, she had been bereft of such sensations, and she had been determined to keep them away. This, however, had been unavoidable and caught her completely off guard.
His fingers flexed against her back, and she startled.
“I am sorry,” he muttered, stopping their movements. “We do not have to continue.”
The piano skipped a beat, and Peggy looked over to discover Miss Nora watching with keen interest. Upon being caught, the pianist’s eyes returned to the keys.
“We have an audience,” Peggy replied with shaken breath.
“I see,” he replied with a voice nearly as unsteady. He cleared his throat.
“It is fine.” Peggy shook her head as if she could free it of the cobwebs that had taken over. She stepped back into his arms, this time prepared for the flush and the rapid increase of her heartbeat.
They finished the song without incident even though Peggy suspected that Miss Nora had doubled back to add length to the piece. She was glad that Lord Belton had chosen a spot away from his mother and father who would have though it strange that the pair had uttered not a single word once they had resumed their dance.
Peggy was glad that she was not the only one who was off kilter. She would have been mortified if she had been alone in her discomfort. If only for the reason that if it seemed like she harbored unwanted affections, he might be put off from their friendship. As it was, Lord Belton seemed to be just as disconcerted as she.
They pulled apart and Peggy returned to her seat, while Lord Belton remained on the far side of the room seemingly to peruse the bookcase. Peggy was glad that Miss Nora was trapped at the pianoforte while her parents continued to dance. It allowed her to keep her back to her friend while the color that she was well aware had risen to her cheeks faded. Eventually, Lord Belton returned to the cluster of seats where he took his place across from her. She could feel his questioning gaze upon her, narrowed blue eyes that tore at her periphery, but she refused to return the look, instead focusing with determination upon the dancing pair. Perhaps he too was wondering if it had all been imagined. Perhaps, like her, he wondered if the sudden heat had just been a strange occurrence brought on by the wine from dinner.