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Isla had said too much.
She’d never told anyone she’d been a spy before.
Not her brother.
Not her companion.
She certainly shouldn’t reveal her deepest secrets to a man she’d only met a week before.
And yet, the words had toppled from her mouth easily. She knew his secrets. It seemed only right he should know hers.
“You are beautiful,” Adam said.
His voice was stern, and he narrowed the distance between them.
It wasn’t the first time someone had called her beautiful, but it was the first time her heart had beat with such force at the words.
She looked away, as if the action could halt the ever increasing speed of her heart, and as if it could cease the rush of blood to her face.
For a moment he’d looked like he might kiss her.
There was a strange tenderness in his eyes she desired to sink into, and his face was curiously close to hers.
But then he seemed to remember himself, and he stepped back. “I’m—er—sorry.”
She gave a tight smile.
Of course.
He was going to leave. He would make some excuse, and then he would go, and then she would be all alone.
He wasn’t a man who was courting her. He knew her secrets. If he succeeded at feigning to be a viscount, he would do better marrying one of the fresh-faced debutantes who would swoon at the mention of his title, his wrinkle-free face and his stoop-free figure.
He didn’t need to tie himself to a woman with scandal.
Her heartbeat quickened. “Would you like me to teach you something else?”
“I-I” He paused. “I would like to dance.”
“Dance?” She raised her eyebrows.
He nodded. “I believe that was on your lesson plan. Section Six: Delightful Dancing.”
“Oh.”
“I think it’s appropriate to study that lesson, since you taught me the others so well. The tea was a success.”
Despite herself, she giggled. Perhaps she was simply eager to think of something else.
“You already desire to practice for a ball?” she teased.
“Why not?” His eyes remained on her, and though he most likely didn’t mean anything by his words, she still shivered.
No doubt she’d caught some cold from her foolish insistence on prolonging her carriage ride.
“There’s no music,” Isla said.
“Perhaps we can hum,” the viscount said.
“Hum?”
He nodded. “Shall I teach you?”
“I’m familiar with the process.” Her skin felt hot, and she looked away. He didn’t need to see how he affected her. That would be improper, and Isla had already been sufficiently improper today.
“Is there a particular dance you would like to learn? Perhaps the quadrille?”
“The waltz.”
“You desire to learn the waltz?”
“It’s suited for two people, isn’t it?”
“Er—yes.” Her heart seemed unsteady, lingering on the idea of his hands on hers. “But not every ball plays the waltz. It’s not the most efficient use of time.”
“You wouldn’t want me to not know how to dance it?” he asked.
“Naturally not,” she said. “But the waltz is an intimate dance. You most likely wouldn’t be expected to dance it anytime soon, even if the musicians play it. A quadrille would be far more useful. Unless, of course, you’re planning to court someone. And then the waltz would most likely be your favored dance.”
“Is that so?” Something in his eyes glimmered.
She was speaking too quickly, and he was amused.
Perhaps he could hear the rapid beat of her heart.
“I think the waltz is exactly the dance I wish to dance,” he said. “Right now.”
“Oh.” She blinked.
Perhaps he was besotted by Miss Braunschweig. She was unmarried and beautiful.
Perhaps he desired to court Miss Braunschweig straightaway. Perhaps that’s why he’d shown up at her apartment now, even though they hadn’t been scheduled to meet until tomorrow.
Miss Braunschweig had been quite lovely. Isla knew. She was an expert in all things fashionable, all things beautiful, and Miss Braunschweig met every qualification.
And she’s younger. She’s never been jilted.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I-I.” She swallowed hard and raised her chin. She was Lady Isla. She never stammered. “I merely pondered whether you’d become intrigued by Miss Braunschweig?”
“Miss Braunschweig?” He blinked.
“You were chatting most amiably with her,” Isla reminded him. “You would make a handsome couple.”
“Oh?” Amusement was in his eyes again.
She frowned. He needn’t appear amused.
“Does that mean you think I’m handsome?” he asked.
Oh.
That was why he was amused.
Heat soared to her cheeks, even though her cheeks never had the habit of resembling furnaces.
She froze.
Am I besotted?
Her eyes widened. It seemed to matter, far more than it should, what Adam thought of her.
He had paid her to train him, and even though she hardly needed the money, she would keep her word. She would not break her oath to him, even if he was going to use his skills to court Miss Braunschweig.
“I will teach you the waltz,” she said crisply, and then, even though it was ridiculous, she began to hum.
*
THEY SPUN ABOUT THE room.
She was beautiful.
Everything about her was beautiful.
“I want to kiss you,” he confessed.
It wasn’t just the sumptuous curve of her lips that inspired the statement, nor was it the curve of her nose, or her wide-set eyes.
It wasn’t her dark, glossy locks, nor was it her oval face.
“Oh?” Her voice gave an unnatural squeak. Perhaps her heart was beating just as wildly as his was.
He shouldn’t kiss her.
She was the daughter of an earl, and he was a man who pretended to be a viscount. She was the real thing, and he was a fraud.
But she knows that.
She knew everything about him.
All his secrets.
And for some odd reason, she didn’t seem to be gazing at him in horror. For some reason she hadn’t stepped away. And for some reason, some very odd reason, she was narrowing the distance between them.
And then their lips touched, and everything was wonderful.
He claimed her mouth with his, acquainting himself with the exact feel of her limbs.
He trailed his finger over her back, over her arms, as he kissed her. Her mouth was soft and splendid and welcoming, but there was a power in the rest of her body that was disguised by the flounces and frills on her dresses.
When he withdrew he vowed to see the solicitor at once. He wanted to move forward with his life, and he wanted it to include her.