The sound of his voice startled her, and she sucked in her breath—was her skin red from the heat inside her? She fanned herself, turning slowly and madly wondering if Drake’s kiss could be as provocative as Ardencaple’s.
He must have seen the flame in her skin because he was looking at her curiously, one dark brow rising above the other.
“I, ah… good evening, Mr. Lockhart,” she said, smiling unsteadily, and dipped into a curtsey.
“Are you quite all right? You look rather flushed.”
That was all she required—her panic was instant and furious. “Flushed?” she demurred, and averted her gaze, lest she look as guilty as she felt. “It’s rather warm, that’s all.”
“Are you well enough to stand up with me? I had hoped for a space on your dance card,” he said, moving a little so that he was in her line of sight.
“Did you?” she asked coyly, slanting a glance at him, and almost laughed out loud with hysteria. Having wished so for this moment, all she could seem to think of was Ardencaple—who, incidentally, had danced as if on a cloud, what with all the effortless twirling. Unthinkingly, Anna glanced across the crowded dance floor where the quadrille was ending, and she saw him in the company of Miss Netherton.
“I beg your pardon, but shall I take that as a yes or a no?” Drake drawled.
Anna jerked her gaze to him again and forced a smile. “You know very well that I would be honored, sir.”
He smiled confidently, took her hand, and led her onto the dance floor as a minuet began. He took her through the steps, smiling down at her, his gaze boldly wandering the length of her, lingering on her bosom.
Anna didn’t shy away from it; she stood straighter. A soft giggle escaped her, and she wondered what sort of unmarried woman went about kissing men here and there on darkened verandas. A happy one, certainly.
“If I may be so bold,” Drake said during one pass as he pointed his right foot at her, “I would ask if you might do me the pleasure of walking about the Valtrain gardens.”
Anna responded to his toe point with one of her own, bowing perfectly. “Goodness, Mr. Lockhart! You ask after that pleasure so often that I think you merely delight in the asking.”
He laughed as they stepped sidelong in perfect unison. “I must beg your forgiveness, as I was unavoidably detained at the Darlington ball.”
Anna twirled about and faced him again with a toe point. “Come now, sir! You must think me a foolish girl.”
“Not foolish. Patient,” he corrected her.
“Patient!” She laughed. “And why should I wait patiently for a silly walkabout?” she asked as she bowed and stepped and twirled again.
“You know very well why, Miss Addison. You desire the pleasure of my company so I might regale you with tales of your beauty and wit and charm.”
She couldn’t help herself; she laughed at his banter and glanced gaily about, saw the Scot smiling charmingly at Miss Netherton, and quickly turned her gaze to Lockhart again. “Perhaps you confuse me with my sister,” she said daringly.
“Surely I do not,” he said pleasantly. “Your sister is lovely, but she pales in comparison to you.”
“Mr. Lockhart, your flattery is obvious!”
“Flattery? How could I possibly flatter you? You are far too clever for it.”
Really, she was, but she nevertheless enjoyed the playful talk, and laughingly shrugged, twirled about, stepped to her right, and glanced about. Her gaze inadvertently landed on Ardencaple again. This time he was looking directly at her, wearing a very knowing smile on his face. Damn him!
Anna pretended not to notice at all as she faced Drake again. “Very well, you have succeeded, Mr. Lockhart. I should very much like to stroll about the gardens with you,” she said, and went about the rest of the minuet without looking once at Ardencaple.
When the dance ended, Drake escorted her into the gardens, where several of the guests had come out for air, including, she noticed with mild interest, Mr. Fynster-Allen and Miss Amelia Crabtree, who walked along slowly, obviously caught up in deep conversation.
Who could blame them? It was a fabulous night for strolling along—a rare cloudless night in London. A cool breeze kept the air clean of soot, and the torch-lit gardens looked magnificent. Anna and Drake walked down the center path, remarking on the many rosebushes in full bloom.
They paused at a wrought-iron bench beside a hedgerow that had been cut to resemble giant chess pieces. Beneath the bishop they sat, side by side, admiring another stand of roses, until Drake looked up at the moon and said, “Moonlight is very becoming to you.” He lowered his gaze and smiled warmly at her.
Anna’s heart fluttered. “Thank you.”
“You are indeed a handsome woman,” he added with a smile.
Handsome? Her heart stopped fluttering—why did that remark always make her feel like someone’s spinster aunt? Why couldn’t she be beautiful, or, at the very least, pretty?
Drake put his hand lightly on her knee, and Anna stared down at the hand in surprise, willing it higher.