Storm and Silence(125)

‘Come,’ I said, grasping Ella by the hand. ‘We could…’

‘Miss Linton? Miss Lilly Linton?’

I turned and stiffened. In front of me was standing none other than Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh, smiling at me as if I were another continent to be added to his empire.

‘It is Miss Lilly, isn’t it?’ The charm-factor of his smile went up another level or two. ‘I’m afraid I might have confused all these lovely Lintons.’

‘Yes, um… yes,’ I muttered. ‘My name is Lilly.’

‘Very well, Miss Lilly. Would you do me the honour of granting me the next dance?’

You could have struck me down with a feather. A piece of fluff would probably have sufficed as a cudgel, too. I stood there, mute, staring up at him.

‘Lill? Lill!’

Somebody was tugging on my arm and whispering in my ear. ‘Lill, answer him! For goodness' sake, please answer him!’

Who… oh yes. Ella. That was my sister’s name, wasn’t it? Lord Dalgliesh. Dancing. Hell’s whiskers! Had he just really asked me to dance with him? The owner of an entire continent wanted to dance with me? Something was wonky in this world!

From somewhere I heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like my own say: ‘Certainly, Lord Dalgliesh. I would love to dance with you.’

A hand grasped mine. It was firm but smooth. The skin of an aristocrat who had never done manual labour. As if in a dream, or maybe a nightmare, Lord Dalgliesh led me onto the dance floor with small, elegant steps.

I heard it around us: voices hushing, then whispering, the clatter of my aunt’s jaw as it hit the floor. But I didn’t see any of it. I only saw my own feet, and thought: In half a minute, those will have to start dancing.

Then the music started. Lord Dalgliesh gripped my hand, and suddenly we were whirling around each other with unearthly grace. He was tugging on my hand, throwing me this way and that, too fast for me to do anything about it.

Ha! I had thought the other men on the dance floor tried to lead when dancing? I had known nothing. This was real leading. Not pushing me forward, but pulling me into following him with masterful moves. I was powerless to resist. Part of me didn’t even want to.

We went through the forms of the dance, stepping away from each other, marching down the line of dancers. He passed out of my sight. But in passing, I saw the look in his eyes as he gazed at me. In that look was something I hadn’t seen in the face of this paragon of power: curiosity.

At the end of the line I turned, facing him again. Normally, I went down the line slowly. I was a careful dancer. But he rushed towards me, so I had to follow. Grasping me by my arm, he whirled me around once again.

I met his curious gaze.

‘Why did you ask me to dance with you, Lord Dalgliesh?’

The question, uttered low but distinctly, was out of my mouth before I knew I had opened it. Some central, unchangeable, nosy part of me must have shoved it past my teeth in spite of the mesmerizing effects of his presence. It was good to know I was still myself somewhere in there.

We danced another turn.

‘Why on earth should I have a special reason?’ he enquired as we passed again. ‘Is not the pleasure of your company enough?’

‘Not really, no.’ And he actually gave a little laugh. It rang like bells, pleasant to the ear.

‘You do not think much of yourself?’

It’s not that. It’s just that I think you think a lot more of yourself than you do of me.

‘Oh please.’ I looked down, demurely. Tonight was play-acting night, after all. ‘I am only a simple gentry[37] girl, not such an exalted personage such as yourself, My Lord.’

He flashed his brilliant smile again and began pelting me with a hundred little compliments, all perfectly arranged to melt the heart of any maiden. The compliments themselves did not get to me. The skill which with they were delivered, on the other hand, did.

What does this bloody fellow want with me? He could have dozens of women mooning at his feet!

Of course, there was always the possibility that he had fallen madly in love with me at first sight. But that was the kind of thing Ella might have believed, not I. And even if he had, he’d better fall out of love again right speedily!

Slowly, the flow of niceties ebbed. We continued to dance, and I had to admit he was an excellent dancer. Lord Dalgliesh led in a way that made me not even feel I was being led: it was effortless, graceful, and enthralling. And that was exactly why I hated it. He didn’t make me feel like being led - but in fact I was, very skilfully. And I didn’t take kindly to people trying to fool me.

Oh really? a tiny voice inside me asked. Not even when it’s done as magnificently as this?