Her Secondhand Groom(48)
“Yes, I believe I am,” she agreed.
The hand he had resting on her waist tightened a fraction. “Good. I’m glad, Juliet.”
The music ended and he led her to the side of the room where a table had been set out to serve lemonade. She took the cup he offered her and sat in a nearby chair. Something was off. Drake was never this nice to her. Never. Sure, he hadn’t been quite the jackanapes she’d previously thought him to be these last three weeks of their marriage. And actually, if she were being honest, she’d even admit he’d been nicer to her than before, especially during this past week. But tonight…tonight was unexplainable.
He’d held her hand at dinner. Then when Caroline, their hostess, suggested they make use of an unused drawing room to dance, he’d practically dragged her down the hall.
“What’s your rank of choice?”
Juliet started, nearly spilling her cup of lemonade. “Pardon?”
Drake gestured to all the other men in the room. “Every rank from a duke down to a second son who became a vicar is available for your choosing. Any rank strike your fancy?”
“I believe you’re incorrect,” she said, looking over all the men in the room. “I see one second son-vicar, one baron―” she turned to him―“one viscount, two earls, and one duke. But alas, no marquis.”
His brown eyes lit with mischief. “I’d say that I stand corrected, but I do not. There is a marquis on the premises. If you’d like to dance with him, I’ll see if a servant can fetch him from the nursery.”
Juliet smiled at his logic. He was right of course, the duke and duchess’ oldest son, who carried the courtesy title of marquis, was sleeping up in the nursery. “How about we call this a tie?”
“Fair enough,” he agreed. “So who will it be, Juliet? Whose wife do I need to go charm?”
“Pardon?”
One of his long, blunt-tipped fingers reached up and pushed a loose tendril of her hair behind her right ear. “Who do you want to dance with?”
“This viscount,” she whispered, her face growing warm.
His hand engulfed hers and he led her to the middle of the floor. “I was hoping you’d choose him. I think I should like to dance with his wife.”
“I shouldn’t have chosen him, though.”
He tightened his grasp and pulled her closer to him. “And why is that?”
“It’s not proper.”
He leaned his head back and gave a harsh bark of laughter. “That is the last thing you should be thinking about tonight.”
The music started and Juliet froze. It was a waltz. She could dance any country reel or quadrille, to perfection, but a waltz? No. She’d only attempted it once and her poor dancing partner limped the rest of the night. She opened her mouth to protest but didn’t get a word out before Drake’s smooth, rich voice drifted to her ears.
“Is that the only reason you shouldn’t choose the viscount?”
“Of course,” she lied. Being improper by dancing with her husband twice―in a row, at that―was the lesser of the two reasons she should have chosen to dance with another man. The stronger reason was one she didn’t want to admit even to herself.
“Then dance,” he promoted, his rich, silky voice washing over her like satin.
She hesitantly moved her feet to the music, taking extra care not to step on his toes. His movements were not so hesitant, however. With each step he took forward, his warm body connected with hers. She forced a smile. “Perhaps―”
“Just move, Juliet. I’ve got you, you won’t fall.”
“I’m not afraid of falling.” She took a step back that almost matched his stride, but not quite. “I’m afraid I’ll bruise your toes.”
The hold he had on her shoulder tightened. “Bruise them.”
A shiver ran down her spine and her heart tripled its pace. The heated look in Drake’s eyes was different, darker, primitive―intoxicating. Yes, that’s what it was. Seeing him look at her thus was intoxicating. Heedless of the couples around her, she let her fears go and gave into his command, gliding back, then to the side, then back again. All worries abandoned, she followed Drake’s lead as he guided her all over the floor during the waltz and continued long after the music ended.
Drake pulled to an abrupt stop, and Juliet almost stumbled. His hands tightened their hold. “Sorry,” he murmured, helping her regain her balance.
“Distracted, Patrick?” Lord Sinclair teased, after Drake had escorted her to the edge of the room.
The tips of Drake’s ears pinkened. “Of course, Juliet is a thing of beauty, is she not?”