The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell(25)
So, she risked lowering her shields a bit further. “My greatest passion is for music. I agree music gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, charm and gaiety to life…and to everything else, I wager.”
His approving nod had her relaxing in his arms. “Thank you.”
She returned his smile. She tried to warn herself not to sink into the sensual invitation that radiated from him. He was a fantastic dancer, lissome, but with a raw, untamed power.
“So, the sincerest way to your heart lies in dancing and music? How is it your legions of suitors have not discovered this?”
Was he interested in the way to my heart? She studied him carefully and only saw teasing and objective interest. She relaxed further still, banishing the warning bells that clanged in her head. And her heart. “None of them understand my spirit.”
He tilted his head. “Your spirit? Pray, tell me.”
“Sometimes London is so…stuffy. Stiflingly so.” She chortled. “Just once I would love to dance something scandalous and exciting and play a bawdy tune on the pianoforte.”
Anthony barked out a laugh. “Good God, gel.”
Lord, he was so different from Lord Hoyt’s staid and quiet composure that she wondered if Anthony were real. Some months ago, she had regaled a small gathering at Hoyt’s house with a rowdier version of Czerny, for which she had received the severest of tongue-lashings from her aunt. She’d been shocked to see that she had embarrassed and mortified Lord Hoyt’s mother. She was actually surprised she was still welcomed in their home.
“The waltz is not scandalous enough for you?” Anthony queried.
Phillipa gave an inelegant snort. “The waltz, Anthony, is certainly not scandalous. It may have been considered indecent a few years ago, threatening the morality of innocent women, if you can believe that. But it is now as banal as the two-step. I fear I may have been born in the wrong time. I either belong to the past…or to the future.”
“The past?” Anthony asked, seeming enthralled. “Elaborate.”
“Like the primitives I’ve seen pictures of. Even in Boston I could immerse myself more in dancing and music than in England. It is as if the joy of the rhythm that pulses in the body has been crippled here. There is no adventure. Dances should be exciting and creative,” she said firmly.
“You don’t find the country-dances creative?” he asked.
“Are they? I’ve never been to a country-dance in England. I have attended a few London soirees, and the only things danced are the cotillion, polka, and frequently the waltz. It is as if all the exuberance has been choked under puritanical rules. One day, I hope to experience a dance that is wickedly indecent and adventurous. Failing that, I shall have to dream of being transported to the primitive past in my imagination. Or perhaps the future will be less strictly laced.”
She held her breath in an agony of anticipation for his response. She felt as if Anthony’s reaction to her treatise was the single most important thing she had ever waited for. Never had she wanted so desperately to trust a lord.
And prayed this one was not like all the rest.
Chapter Eight
Phillipa’s golden eyes glittered, alight with excitement, intoxicating Anthony in the most curious of ways. Nothing else could account for the light-headedness he felt.
He shook his head to clear it of his fanciful notions. She waited for his reaction, and at his lack of response, vulnerability seeped into the depth of her eyes as she lowered them in embarrassment.
He tipped her chin back up with a finger. “Your passion for music is inspiring. I would love to dance the mazurka in private with you,” he drawled. “And anything else you desire. The more exciting the better.”
She gave him a radiant smile, and he accepted then and there he would court her. He would delve beneath her reserves, strip her layers, and whatever she wished for, he would offer to her gladly.
“I’m afraid I have always been scandalous, Anthony. I’ve ridden in several buggies without a chaperon.” She nodded as if he’d said something. “Shocking, I know.”
He liked that she teased him. “Very.”
“Oh, dear. I’ve mortified your noble sensibilities.”
They chuckled together, and more than a few frowns of disapproval were thrown their way. Anthony liked her so much like this. The icy wall of reserve had thawed to reveal a woman of warmth and passion. Need slammed into him instantly, and he cursed his weakness for her.
“I assume this explains your banishment to our rigid soils.”
Shadows chased her face, only to vanish as quickly.
His curiosity deepened. “Ah, I see I’m right. Tell me, what scandal did you leave behind in Boston, my sweet?”