The Sum of All Kisses
Hugh was not prepared for the look in her eyes. Her face tipped up toward his, and her lips parted with a breath, and in that moment he would have sworn that the sun rose and set on her smile.
He leaned in, almost close enough for a whisper. “If I am not, as you say, a cripple, then I must be able to dance.”
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
“I shall never know unless I try.”
“I won’t be very graceful,” she said ruefully.
“That’s why you are the perfect partner.”
She reached out and placed her hand in his. “Lord Hugh Prentice, I would be honored to dance with you.”
Carefully, she moved to the edge of her chair, then allowed him to tug her to her feet. Or rather, to her foot. It was almost comical; he was leaning on the chair, and she was leaning on him, and neither could stop their grins from extending into giggles.
When they were both upright and reasonably well balanced, Hugh listened for the strains of music wafting out along the night breeze. He heard a quadrille.
“I believe I hear a waltz,” he said.
She looked up at him, clearly about to issue a correction. He placed a finger on her lips. “It must be a waltz,” he told her, and he saw the instant she understood. They would never dance a reel, or a minuet, or quadrille. Even a waltz would require considerable innovation.
He reached over and plucked his cane from where it was resting against the side of his chair. “If I put my hand here,” he said, resting it on the handle, “and you put yours on mine . . .”
She followed his lead, and he placed his other hand at the small of her back. Without ever taking her eyes from his, she moved her hand to his shoulder. “Like this?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Like this.”
It was the strangest, most awkward waltz imaginable. Instead of a clasped pair of hands, elegantly arched before them, they both put their weight on the cane. Not too heavily; they didn’t need that much support, not while they had each other. He hummed in three-quarter time, and he led with light pressure on her back, moving the cane whenever it was time to turn.
He had not danced in nearly four years. He had not felt music flow through his body, nor savored the warmth of a woman’s hand in his. But tonight . . . It was magical, almost spiritual, and he knew that there was no way he could ever thank her for this moment, for restoring a piece of his soul.
“You’re very graceful,” she said, gazing up at him with an enigmatic smile. This was the smile she used in London, he was certain of it. When she danced at a ball, when she looked up at her suitor and paid him a compliment, this was how she smiled. It made him feel positively normal.
He never thought he’d be so grateful for a smile.
He dipped his head toward hers and pretended to be imparting a secret. “I’ve been practicing for years.”
“Have you now?”
“Oh, indeed. Shall we attempt a turn?”
“Oh yes, let’s.”
Together they lifted the cane, swung it gently to the right, then pressed the tip back down on the grass.
He leaned in. “I’ve been waiting for the proper moment to unleash my talent upon the world.”
Her brows rose. “The proper moment?”
“The proper partner,” he corrected.
“I knew there was a reason I fell out of that carriage.” She laughed and looked up with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Aren’t you going to say that you knew there was a reason you didn’t catch me?”
About this, however, he could not be glib. “No,” he said with quiet force. “Never.”
She was looking down, but he could see by the curve of her cheeks that she was pleased. After a few moments, she said, “You did break my fall.”
“It appears I am good for something,” he replied, happy to be back to their teasing banter. It was a safer place to be.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, my lord. I suspect you’re good for many things.”
“Did you just ‘my lord’ me?”
This time, when she smiled, he heard it in her breath, right before she said, “It seems that I did.”
“I cannot imagine what I have done to earn such an honor.”
“Oh, it is not a question of what you have done to earn it,” she said, “but what I think you have done to earn it.”
For a moment he stopped dancing. “This may explain why I don’t understand women.”
At that she laughed. “It is but one of many reasons, I’m sure.”
“You wound me.”
“On the contrary. I know of no man who truly wishes to understand women. What would you have to complain about if you did?”
“Napoleon?”
“He’s dead.”
“The weather?”
“You already have that, not that you could possibly find any complaint tonight.”
“No,” he agreed, peering up at the stars. “It is an uncommonly fine evening.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, it is.”
He should have been satisfied with that, but he was feeling greedy, and he did not want the dance to end, so he allowed his hand to settle more heavily on her back and said, “You did not tell me what you think I have done to earn the honor of your calling me ‘your lord.’ ”
She glanced up at him with impudent eyes. “Well, if I were completely honest, I might admit that it just popped out of my mouth. It does lend a flirtatious air to a statement.”
“You crush me.”
“Ah, but I’m not going to be completely honest. Instead, I’m going to recommend that you wonder why I was feeling flirtatious.”