Annie tried not to bite the inside of her lip. The wallflowers were together, chatting away. She gave Julia and Diana a wave. Meg gave her a strained smile.
Her own upturned lips were not as natural as she would have wished, but if Wellington’s soldiers had risked the town of Waterloo, then she could dance.
She turned to the unmarried men who’d gathered on the other side of the room. The music would begin soon and she’d be on the dance floor, hopefully with a partner.
‘Oh, there’s Earl Winsley,’ her mother whispered. ‘He’s not met you. His four sons are married, but you never know when one might become a widower.’
Annie allowed herself to be dragged along and found herself in conversation with her mother and Winsley.
‘You’re so thoughtful,’ her mother said, and then the edges of her eyes hardened. She stared over Annie’s shoulder.
Annie turned, following her mother’s gaze.
Barrett had walked into the room, looking as if he’d taken his valet to the tailor’s shop with him and just emerged, sparing no expense. His face might have thinned, but it added to his austerity and authority.
She turned away, hoping he hadn’t seen her. She pulled up the edges of her gloves and met her mother’s eyes. Her mother also pulled up the edges of her gloves. When the conversation ended, her mother led her away from Winsley and to the refreshment table. ‘Show those teeth, Annie. Smile. And do let your arms flash about,’ she whispered.
‘I simply don’t know what I would do without you,’ her mother stated loudly as they moved closer to the punch.
Annie spotted Lord Richard. ‘Let’s detour in his direction,’ Annie said. ‘I’d like to dance with him.’
‘Finally,’ her mother whispered. ‘I would have insisted Barrett visit us years ago if I thought it would point you in Lord Richard’s direction.’
‘Yes,’ Annie said. ‘He’ll ask. I’ll dance and have a grand time, no matter if his hair pomade smells like sausages. No man watching will be worried about being refused for a dance.’
‘I’m sure someone more pleasant will become a widower soon and remember how lovely you look in summer wear.’
‘I’m not counting on a widower,’ Annie said, clasping both hands around her mother’s arm and leading them straight to Lord Richard.
He asked, Annie accepted, and she kept her back straight and made sure to enjoy every last utterance and when he turned the conversation to pork and all its usages, she agreed. It even helped in dancing, she told him, because it gave the dancers something to speak about.
Admiration flashed in his eyes. ‘You’re delightful.’
Which was a slightly different look than she noticed in Barrett’s eyes when the dance happened to turn her in such a way that she could see him. She would have expected a bit of smugness in Barrett’s face. Perhaps relief. Or happiness that she had taken his advice and started a search for a husband who would be willing to show up for a wedding ceremony.
Barrett joined a group of men. They were all in conversation, drinks at hand, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. But if Barrett’s jaw weren’t so cleanly shaved, she would have bet his last whisker that he wasn’t really attending the conversation. She would have thought business talk would have put a happier look on his face.
When the dance finished, she took Lord Richard’s arm as he started to return her to her mother’s side. She stopped walking and he had no choice but to stop as well. ‘Dancing with you was so lovely,’ she said. ‘And except for the fact that it would be unseemly to dance too much with one partner, I’d love to dance again. Do you happen to know of anyone who might wish to dance with me so I can perfect my steps?’
‘Have you been formally introduced to Charles?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘He hates asking women to dance,’ Lord Richard said. ‘Fears he’ll murder their toes, but...’
‘I have sturdy feet.’
He led her to his friend. ‘Miss Annie quite loves to dance.’
‘That’s good,’ Charles answered.
‘You are...so thoughtful.’ Everyone was so thoughtful. ‘That is so kind of you to ask me to dance.’
Both Lord Richard and Charles opened their mouths, but didn’t speak.
She put her hand out, taking Charles’ arm after she pulled it nearer.
‘Uh...’
‘Do go on to the dance floor, Charles,’ Lord Richard said. ‘The lady is waiting.’
Charles looked at Annie’s hand, then her face, and led her into the dance as the music for the next reel began. ‘I’m not the best of dancers,’ he said.
‘Then this will be practice for us both.’ She spoke softly. ‘All I care is that you keep your feet moving.’
He leaned closer to whisper, ‘That I can do.’
‘You have quite excellent posture,’ she said. ‘I’ve noticed that before.’
‘And so do you, Miss Annie, if I may be so bold.’
She laughed softly. Dancing was more fun than she expected. Perhaps Barrett should try it above glancing in her direction. ‘Oh, by all means.’
‘Charles, you really should dance more often,’ she said when they met in the dance again. She did not want to continue to live her whole life in an attic.
‘You’re an easy person to dance with, Miss Annie.’
‘That is a beautiful compliment.’
He blushed. He had the kind of complexion that held on to redness to the very last instance, which she was grateful for, just in case they were being observed. It might be a good thing to the other men, to think she was a woman who could embarrass a man. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.
When she helped him recover from a missed step, he seemed so grateful. He truly was the perfect dance partner. ‘You just did that to get me closer,’ she said. He smiled again and his cheeks reminded her of a particularly glorious sunrise.
When the dance ended, she remained close to him. More people seemed aware of her than she’d expected and she didn’t like the feeling that people were watching her. She’d wanted it to happen, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it.
‘Did I injure your foot while we were dancing?’ Charles asked. ‘I can help you to a chair if you wish?’
She laid her hand over his arm. ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m fine.’
Charles led her back to her mother’s side. ‘Annie is the best dancer I believe I’ve ever stepped on to the floor with,’ Charles told her mother.
Her mother beamed, her head nodding as she spoke. ‘She is so thoughtful. Sits by me for hours, reading to me.’
‘And what books are your favourites?’ he asked Annie.
‘I just read one by Eliza Parsons.’
‘At my request. To me. Aloud,’ her mother said and then looked over Annie’s shoulder, before glancing back at Charles.
Annie hoped her mother wouldn’t say she was thoughtful again.
‘I never give the housekeeper any instructions either, as Annie has taken over that duty for me as well. She’s beyond compare.’ Her mother’s gaze iced over. ‘A treasure. Simply. A. Treasure.’
Barrett was behind her. Annie knew it without looking. Her mother’s face gave it away.
‘I understand that completely,’ Charles said.
‘I thought I might dance with—’
Barrett’s voice from behind her.
‘Oh, thank you.’ Her mother stepped completely around Annie and held out her hand. ‘I’ve hardly danced a step all evening.’
He raised one brow, but reached out his hand to her mother, and pulled the back of her hand close to his lips. Kissing the air. ‘A dance with your daughter would be wonderful.’
Barrett looked every bit of his elevated birth. Even the simple tie of his cravat contributed to his status, almost seeming to shout out that he didn’t need to spend any extra time on something so frivolous. His eyes commanded the room.
Annie gave a small pivot on the heels of her slippers. He knew how to ask people to dance as well as she did. And to refuse, just as she was about to do.
Annie schooled her face to look uninterested and turned to Barrett. ‘I must decline—’ she put her hand to her bosom ‘—as I have just agreed to tell Charles about the book I’ve been reading.’
Her heart thumped so loud she hoped no one could hear it or see it throbbing in her throat.
‘By Eliza Parsons,’ Charles said. ‘Have you read any of her novels, Barrett?’
‘No. I’ve been busy.’
‘Oh, you would not be interested at all.’ Annie turned from Barrett and peered at Charles. ‘It has a castle and no one wants to go to the upstairs at night because that’s where the ghosts live.’
Charles raised a brow. ‘Sounds interesting.’
‘I couldn’t do it justice in the telling,’ Annie said to Charles. ‘I must lend you my copy.’
‘I’d like that,’ Charles said.
‘Well, now that we’ve got that settled,’ Barrett said, holding out his arm for Annie’s hand. ‘Dance?’
Charles excused himself, probably a bit intimidated by the ferocity in Barrett’s eyes.
‘I really can’t,’ Annie said. She lowered her voice. ‘I have epidemeosis. A rare case. And the physician has said I must not get too tired. Why, just this very morning he said that if I danced with the wrong person, someone who could upset my humours, it could be very disastrous.’ He had actually said that and then winked at her.
Her mother gasped. ‘I thought you were cured,’ she whispered.
‘I didn’t want to tell anyone.’
‘Of course,’ Barrett said. ‘That epidemeosis is serious.’
‘I now have a severe case.’ She turned to her mother. ‘I believe the physician reminded me to be in contact with people I’ve not been in close quarters with before. He said it will build up my resistance.’
‘Well, Annie...’ her mother reached out, patting Annie’s arm as she glared at Barrett ‘...I will tell your father and we can take you home.’
‘Not until I dance a few more times,’ Annie said. ‘Please introduce me to people I don’t know, that’s healthiest.’
‘I would prefer to get you home,’ her mother said. ‘The air in here has soured a bit and I’m getting a headache. I will get your father.’ Her mother flounced away, moving between them with her elbows extended as she went in search of her husband.
Barrett dodged, then closed the space she’d left behind. ‘I wanted to return this to you.’ He reached into his waistcoat pocket and held out the pin, keeping the fingers of his gloves cupped around it so no one else could see it.
She frowned, recognising it. She didn’t move.
‘You have to take it. It’s yours,’ he said.
The one her grandmother had given her.
She raised her chin. ‘No, thank you.’ It would not do her future dance prospects any good for anyone to see her accepting something from him.
‘It was your grandmother’s.’
She looked at the jewellery. ‘That doesn’t look familiar.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine where you received this, Mr Barrett. I lost mine on a walk in the countryside.’
‘I must have been mistaken.’
‘Happens,’ Annie said. ‘None of us is perfect. I want to beg your pardon for shouting out the window. I was upset that your horse may have left manure behind.’
‘That is truly unforgivable if my horse did such a thing, but perhaps not as much as what I said to you.’
The words swirled into her and erased all the memories of the things he’d said. That and his eyes. The man had eyes she could drown in. Lashes to tangle herself in. And she couldn’t think what his lips looked like except they’d felt better than any silk in the world.
‘We had a peaceful walk and were merely two people who decided that their paths should not cross.’ She looked around the room. ‘Particularly as there are so many other ventures in this town to consider.’
‘And are you determined to consider those ventures, Annie?’
‘I could not say.’ She raised her brow, telling him with her eyes that she would not say. ‘Did you not teach me to strike back?’ She kept her voice innocent.
‘Against physical harm.’
She put two fingers to her chin. ‘I suppose I might have confused that and not realised there were limitations.’
‘Do you not understand that I considered your best interests?’
‘Yes. I do. And I agree with you.’ She looked around the room, realised Lord Richard was watching her, and smiled at him. ‘I’m considering the same.’ She moved her head so no one else could see her lips. ‘Lord Richard is a dear and Charles blushes so easily.’
‘Richard isn’t any sort of dear and Charles’ blushes are possibly why he spends so much time in the darker haunts of London.’ Barrett’s face lost its softness, but it didn’t lose its appeal. ‘So he doesn’t embarrass himself by what he does.’
Charles hadn’t made her toes curl and he’d not stepped on them, but still, they felt rather flat when he was around. And Lord Richard, the fourth son of a duke, was pleasant to dance with when he spoke in a language she could understand. But she didn’t want to spend her life asking him to translate—she feared the translation would lose a considerable amount in the telling.
Barrett didn’t even need to speak. Even the way he snored was soothing. A quiet rasp with a bit of a rumble at the end.
Barrett watched her and it didn’t feel as though he was actually looking at her, but seeing her spirit and her heart in a way no one else had ever done before. As if he could see a part of who she was that even she couldn’t understand.
‘Well,’ she spoke, then sighed, but she looked straight into Barrett’s glare when she said, ‘I’ll be sure and tell anyone I might find interesting that I’m so very innocent. That way I will not be taken advantage of.’
‘When butterflies pull carriages full of that horse manure through the air.’
Her chin went higher. ‘Could happen.’ She took a step back. ‘You and I have been talking far too long and I don’t want to discourage any future prospects. Besides, I feel that blasted epidemeosis.’
He lifted the pin and turned it into the lamplight before putting it back into his pocket. ‘I’m shocked to find out your affliction returned.’
‘Me as well.’ She stared at him. ‘If I remember correctly, the physician decided the quiet night hours will help me regain my health.’
She took a step and then looked back. Her mistake—looking back—but she’d known she would have to take one last look and it wouldn’t be enough.
And then beyond that, beyond anything she saw in his eyes, she remembered the little boy he’d mentioned. The one who’d been used to clear the table and grown so used to it that he expected it. The child who had a grandmother who might scar him with a poker.
And she remembered the kiss.
‘I might unlock the side door for a breath of fresh air tonight. And I suppose, in the dim light, the pin might look more familiar if I were to see it again.’ She paused, then spoke, almost to herself. ‘I really must get over this affliction,’ she said, turning away.
‘You’re not choosing the easiest way.’
‘I’m not perfect, Mr Barrett.’ She inclined her head.
‘Neither am I, Miss Carson.’
Her stomach jumbled a thousand different ways, but she turned to leave as if the world had parted just for her.
Another man walked up to speak with Barrett. Barrett and the man discussed a new waterwheel he wanted to purchase for a country venture.
At the edge of the room, she paused and turned a bit so she could take one last glance. Again, she couldn’t keep herself from looking back. Whenever he was in a room, no one else mattered.
The man handed Barrett a filled glass and spoke. Barrett nodded. He truly didn’t look as if he had a care in the world, or as if he had a thought of anything but business.
But she knew that even though he was looking forward, his eyes saw her, just as he had schooled her to do when she struck out.
He brushed his hand over his waistcoat pocket.
She straightened her shoulders and walked by him, and looked at him from behind the other man’s back, her chin at an angle definitely not recommended for fighting. His face changed, a flicker of a smile flashed in his eyes.
And her heart did a thousand little warm jabs and she wondered she could still stand, but she managed to leave with her head held high and the memory of a smile that had only been for her.