She looked out over the crowd. No one seemed to even notice that the eldest Chadwick girl stood in an intimate conversation with the notorious owner of a gambling hell. Being a spinster wallflower had its perks.
“Is it dancing in general you object to or just dancing with me?”
The dark tone of his voice brought her attention back to him.
“I have not danced all Season. Everyone knows it. Given your…reputation, dancing with you now would cause an instant scandal.” Her gaze softened as she willed him to understand. “Scandal is something I must avoid at all costs.”
Emma hated having to play into the prejudices of society. She was coming to understand that very few members of the haut ton actually possessed the virtues they insisted upon feigning while under the glitter of ballroom lights. Yet, like Lady Winterdale, very few would hesitate to condemn another for behavior deemed the slightest bit inappropriate.
It was all a game of secrets and deceit.
She, especially, fell in with the hypocrisy. Didn’t she spend her days in a pursuit entirely unacceptable to her station while insisting her sisters remain devoted to a society that would shame them for their destitution?
But not Roderick Bentley. He did not pretend to be other than he was, whether in his club or out amongst those who would reject him for the state of his birth yet strive to be connected to him in finance. Roderick accepted himself as he was and accepted others in the same generous and forthright manner.
If she possessed such courage and confidence, what would she do?
If she were not responsible for her sisters and there was just herself to consider…
The moment became too quiet as they stared at each other. He studied her. Seeking something.
Her heart ached within the restraints she could not break.
After a bit, he smiled. Mischief flashed in his eyes and swirled there with something else she would not have recognized before that morning.
“Admit it,” he said. “You don’t want to dance with me because you know you would enjoy it.”
His voice had lowered again into those intimate tones that flowed so warmly across her skin, making her feel like they were the only two people in the room.
Her limbs felt heavy and weak. Her blood rushed faster through her veins and her heart picked up speed.
“I will admit no such thing.”
“But you do not deny it either.”
Emma glanced away again. He was right—she couldn’t.
They stood in silence for a moment. Then she felt him step up beside her until he stood close enough for his coat to brush her bare shoulder. She looked up and saw something anticipatory in his gaze. Something that set her nerves alight with delicious sensations.
“Walk with me in the garden.”
His voice was dark and seductive. Tingling awareness spread through her, and a delightful chill rose on her skin, contrasting sharply with the warmth in her blood. The muscles in her abdomen tensed as heat flowed to the apex of her thighs.
The memory of his lips pressing against hers, his hand covering her breast, and his hips cradled between her legs rushed through her in a consuming wave. She swayed a bit and her hip bumped softly against him as her gaze fell to his mouth.
“I cannot,” she answered reluctantly.
“You can if you want to.”
“Roderick,” she began, but did not say more as something beyond her in the ballroom caught his eye and he glanced up.
She watched his features tense sharply before he slid his hand around her waist and, without explanation or preamble, drew her through the doors onto the terrace.
“Wait,” she protested, but he held her tightly to his side, walking them purposely into the shadows. If she were to struggle, it would draw notice, and that was the last thing she needed. “What are you doing? You must return me to the ballroom,” she whispered.
He stopped at the edge of the terrace where stone steps led down to the garden. Then he pressed into an alcove created by the angles of the house, drawing her with him. His arm remained around her waist, his hand warm over her hip. “I will. Just not yet,” he whispered.
“Have you lost your mind? If anyone saw us—”
“No one saw us,” he answered in a low murmur. “Your reputation is secure.”
His attention was focused back along the terrace toward the doors through which they had just exited.
“What has gotten into you?”
He pulled her in against him, bringing his other arm up around her shoulders. “Hush,” he whispered against the outer curve of her ear. The warmth of his body surrounded her. She was overwhelmed by his scent, his heat, the thud of his heart against her palm. She was so quickly distracted by him it took her a moment to hear the lady’s voice calling quietly.