“Well, goodness, how things have changed!” Tilly said brightly. Then she looked up at him and smiled the old Tilly smile. “You must bring her to see us, Gil. I want to extend the hand of friendship, of course. It must be so difficult for her, entering society for the first time.”
He returned her familiar smile with one of his own, fond and indulgent. “That’s very kind. I’d be grateful, and I’m sure Rose will be too.”
She beamed, like a schoolgirl given praise. “A dinner,” she decided. “I was planning one soon anyway and can easily make it larger. You can be the guests of honour.”
“I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“Don’t be silly. It’ll be a pleasure!”
“Then, thank you. We will be delighted to come.”
Her attention was snared then, by something across the room. “Oh, bother,” she said, though she smiled. “Dray wants me.”
Gil glanced in the direction of her gaze, and sure enough, Dray was beckoning her. He tipped his head at Gil when their eyes met and smiled a greeting but then beckoned Tilly again.
“I’d better go,” she said. “Dray and I have to look in at Lady Lennox’s rout before we go home, and it looks as though our carriage is waiting. But perhaps I’ll call on your wife tomorrow? I really ought to be introduced to her before I invite you both for dinner.”
“She’ll be pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.” Gil smiled.
It was only a minute or two after Tilly took her leave that Rose returned to his side. She had young Thorpe in tow and they made a striking couple, being of a similar height and build, both dark-haired and fair-skinned. Rose rested her arm on Thorpe’s as they walked. He was talking animatedly, and she was smiling at him. Gil gritted his teeth. By the time they came to a halt beside him, Thorpe was beside himself, all puffed up from her attention. He bowed over her hand with a flourish.
“My lady’s hand is as white as the new-fallen snow,” he declared, even though said hand was encased in a silver satin glove that went all the way up to her elbow.
Gil glared at him. “Your lady?” he muttered irritably.
Thorpe glanced nervously at him and quickly let go of Rose’s hand. The puffed-up look vanished.
“Would you excuse me, Lady Stanhope?” he said quickly. “Miss D’Aubney has promised the next set to me.”
“Of course, Mr. Thorpe.” Rose smiled, and he hurried away as though he had a pack of foxhounds at his back.
“Did you have to be quite so rude?” Rose asked mildly once he was out of earshot.
“All that damned poetry,” Gil grumbled. Then he looked at her narrowly. “I thought you hated poetry.”
A reluctant laugh burst from her. “I do,” she confessed and then laughed again, more freely this time. God, she was lovely when she laughed, with her clear, bright eyes dancing and her mouth quirking up like that. It was good to see her smile again, and smiling at him. It was like being in the sunshine after a long, bleak winter.
“Oh, he went on and on,” Rose said. “I don’t think he said one sentence that wasn’t in iambic pentameter.”
Gil laughed at that, and so did she. When their eyes met, it seemed to him that she was all lit up from within, and all at once, he felt so close to her. He wanted to stretch his hand out and touch her. Just a brushing little contact. Nothing at all compared to what they did in bed together each night—but he didn’t feel he had permission for that sort of public intimacy.
Just then, the orchestra took up their instruments again, and couples began to take their places on the floor. When the music began, Gil realised it was a waltz—and that no partner had come to claim Rose. Well, perhaps there was a way to touch her after all?
He turned his gaze back to her. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Her face fell a little. “I promised this waltz to that tall red-haired fellow whose name I’ve forgotten.”
George Latimer.
“To my way of thinking, the gentleman has lost his chance,” Gil replied. “He should have arrived before the music started.”
“He’s probably been looking for me. We are a little out of the way over here—”
Gil glanced over Rose’s shoulder and saw Latimer bearing down on them. When the man saw Gil notice him, he raised his hand and gave a smile, as if to say, I’m just coming.
Gil knew he should tell Rose.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he shrugged apologetically at the other man, took Rose in his arms and danced her onto the floor, leaving Latimer staring angrily after him.
Rose didn’t notice, thank God. She just looked up at Gil with sparkling eyes and said, “Sweeping me off my feet?”