"Who is that woman? I've never heard of her before." Mildred watched Ivy with such intensity Leo was surprised Ivy didn't feel the focus of her gaze and look their way.
"I don't know her well myself. She and my mother are good friends." He watched Ivy like a dying man would watch the gates of heaven as they parted before allowing him entrance. The sway of her full hips, the gleam of the headband made of diamond-studded stars nestled in the crown of her black hair, drew him helplessly in. He ached to touch her, to thread his fingers through her hair. Her bell-like laugh stirred long-buried emotions awake. It had been years since he'd had the occasion to laugh like that, and he missed it.
"With her coloring and dubious background and an English mother no one knows, I quite wonder at your mother's invitation for her and her father. He's one of those nouveau riche at best. A servant playing as a lord. He hides his accent well, but he's certainly an imposter."
Leo balled his fists and shifted in his chair. "Being foreign does not make him an imposter. He doesn't claim to be anyone other than himself. He's self-made. Gentlemen like him do not like discussing their personal histories to avoid judgments like you have just passed. Excuse me." He stood and walked away before he gave in to the temptation to utter something that would ruin his relationship with the cold harpy he'd convinced himself he needed to marry. He almost missed the look of resignation and regret on her face before she carefully masked it.
When the orchestra finished the waltz and prepared to play another, Leo politely inserted himself between Owen and Ivy.
"May I?" He held out his hand, shouldering Owen aside. The other man huffed, but there was little he could do to stop Leo. Ivy's startled gaze darted between the two of them, and then with a red glow in her cheeks, she took Leo's hand. He was barely aware of his friend walking away. The only thing that mattered was her palm touching his and the warmth that filled his chest.
The pianist and the string players started up again, and Leo slid his arm around Ivy's trim waist. The fabric of her gown was smooth and warm beneath his fingers, the way he knew her bare skin would feel. He cupped her hand in his and pulled her close. He had always enjoyed dancing, but he'd never appreciated it until now. It gave him the chance to breathe in the sweet scent of flowers and oranges of the woman in his arms.
The chandelier lights reflected like stars in her cinnamon eyes. Their depths were endless, and he was lost in the vast play of emotions flashing through them. Fear, desire, longing. She seemed as surprised as he was by the undeniable pull between them. He tightened his grip on her waist, and they fell into a perfect tempo. The rhythm of the dance cast a spell over him as he became aware of the curious sense that Ivy felt like more than a waltz partner. There was the way she responded to his gentle urging, obeying him but not blindly. He was not entirely in charge, as he usually was when dancing, but rather it was as though he were part of a team with her. He suspected that should they reverse the roles of the dance, she could lead him just as well.
///
Equal. The word floated up from the depths of his mind, tugging an irresistible smile about his lips. She was a suffragette and believed in equality. Was it any real surprise that even her subconscious beliefs would transfer to her dancing? No. What was surprising was how he didn't mind. Women shouldn't vote, but … an assertive, yet trusting partner in his arms was certainly agreeable.
"Now it seems you are the one amused at my expense," Ivy teased, light flashing in her honey-brown eyes as she stunned him with a luscious smile.
"I was merely thinking." He paused as they continued to whirl slowly about the room. "You could lead me, couldn't you?"
"Are you suggesting I'm fighting with you to lead the dance?" Her brow furrowed.
"On the contrary, you are following perfectly, but I sense no hesitation in your steps. Only confidence. I approve." He bent his head, the small action bringing his face close to hers.
Outside of her, he was losing a sense of the others. There was only Ivy and the way she felt in his arms. A man could easily forsake the world when offered an opportunity like this. For the first time in many years, he wanted to laugh, to grin, to live the way he used to. He pulled Ivy against him, relishing the little gasp and flash of fire in her eyes.
"Leo!" she hissed softly. He loved the way she said his name, even in exasperation, as though they were intimate, as though she'd known him for years. It made his body go taut and his blood pound in his ears.