He froze, then with infinite slowness spun back to her.
She held her breath, fearing and hoping he would say yes. A loud roaring sounded in her ears, but she did not break his gaze. She was being inexcusably reckless, but she wanted to feel something instead of hopelessness, however fleetingly.
A frown chased his features. “You would like to dance?”
“Yes.”
She moved closer to him, halted a few steps away, and cleared her throat of the ball of nerves that had lodged there.
He looked down on her, his face neutral, but she sensed he was struggling to decide whether or not to leave. That intrigued her. According to all the hushed whispers that circulated the ballroom, he should have been taking ruthless advantage of her virtue. But the Lord of Sin had not even tried to steal so much as a kiss.
It struck her suddenly…perhaps he did not find her appealing? Horror burned through her whole body at the notion. She could only blame her momentary idiocy on the three glasses of champagne she had consumed earlier to bolster her nerves.
She opened her mouth to apologize for being forward, poised to flee his presence.
He reached out and pulled her to him, melting her words in a soft gasp.
She shivered as a shattering sense of awareness surged though her. Of his height, his strength…his delicious scent.
“I would be delighted to dance with you, Miss Hastings.”
“Thank you,” she murmured as he swept her into the waltz. Pleasure suffused her. She had not danced in months, and she loved to dance.
She wanted to question why he had accepted her brazen offer. He must think her incredibly forward. But instead, she relaxed, feeling secure in her anonymity. She had already decided she would not venture out again after tonight’s farce. She would not abide society’s disdain any further, but would insist on returning to Dorset, or to Norfolk, to visit Sebastian and Jocelyn at Sherring Cross.
Therefore, she would make the most of this midnight fantasy, dancing with the Lord of Sin, and hold the memory close, until she felt brave enough to venture into society again.
He twirled her with authority and a surety of steps. He was a graceful dancer, a strong partner, and she felt free as she soared with him. She held his gaze, a smile bursting on her lips. The entire situation was dreamlike—dancing with the Duke of Mondvale as though everything were normal in her life, and he an interested gentleman suitor.
She suddenly wished she had not lied about who she was. Would he have reacted the same way if he knew her to be the infamous Lady Constance, the Beautiful Bastard? She couldn’t help wonder if he was aware of the rumors, and if he would have stayed in the conservatory with her had he known. Let alone dance with her…
She forcefully pushed such thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the joy of waltzing. As they twirled, they spun into a pocket of shadows, which coiled around them, cocooning them intimately. The moonlight glanced off the sharp angles of his face, and she could clearly see the dark glitter in his eyes as he gazed down at her. Above them, the night sky shimmered with thousands of stars, and the smell of roses and jasmine perfumed the air. The entire moment was magical, surreal.
When the last strains of the violin filtered through the air, regret curled inside her. She wished the waltz had not ended. But though she badly wanted to, she could not stay out here forever. Phillipa would be coming to look for her any moment.
“Thank you for dancing with me,” she said softly, hating to break the quiet intimacy by speaking.
He tilted his head. “Why does a beautiful lady need to seek dance partners in the conservatory?”
Her heart lurched in her chest. He thought her beautiful? It had not sounded like empty flattery.
She lifted her hands to encompass her surroundings with a laugh. “I only wanted a few moments away from the crush. I was told that Lady Lawrence’s gardens and conservatory are magnificent and wished to see them for myself.” She smiled at him. “Then we met, and I heard the strings of the orchestra…and I could not help being impertinent.”
“Ah, so the lady knows she is being bold,” he said teasingly, moving to walk beside her.
She was. And she was also very conscious of her gown intimately brushing the length of his trousers as they strolled past a vast flower arrangement displayed on the central table.
“The blossoms are breathtaking,” she murmured, caressing the petal of a flower she could not identify. She bent and inhaled its perfumed scent. “There are times when I am awed by nature’s beauty.”
She was startled when he dipped his head and inhaled deeply as well, his eyes closing in appreciation of the sublime scent. She glided along the table, and he stepped with her. He ran the tip of his fingers over a yellow flower, and she imagined what his touch on her would feel like.