He leaned close to hear her words, and she caught the scent of spices, something musky and dark. “You looked as if you were close to tears before. You did not think I would come for you?”
She looked down, staring at the place where her white glove lay in stark contrast to his dark coat. “The dance was to begin, and I had not seen you at the ball.”
“I was merely waiting for the right moment to claim your hand. A man would be a fool to miss the opportunity to dance with you.”
“I think you have that backward, monsieur. You are the accomplished dancer.”
He gave her a nod. “I will tell my stepmother all of the money she threw at my dancing masters was well spent.”
Collette glanced at his face again, trying to ascertain whether he was serious. “I think you already know you are an excellent dancer.”
“It’s easy to dance well with a beautiful woman on my arm.”
Her face heated again, and she could have cursed her body for blushing at her every small discomfort.
“I have embarrassed you?” he asked.
“I am not used to so much attention,” she answered, her voice low, which forced him to lean close again. She had to stop whispering. Every time he leaned close, her belly fluttered, and she felt even more light-headed. She had the urge to turn her head and bury her face in his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelled so wonderful.
“And you do not care for attention?”
She smiled. “Not as much as you, monsieur.”
“Oh, very few people crave attention as much as I do, but I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. Your cheeks are red as cherries.”
How Collette wished she had something cold to press against her heated face. She searched for something to say to cover her awkwardness. “It is the exertion of the dance,” she said. “Did you know that the lengthy courtship rituals of the Erinaceus europaeus are considered a means for the sow to determine which boar is the most fit to serve as a mate?”
Beaumont flashed her a smile that made her heart tumble and roll.
“Are we speaking of hedgehogs again? I believe that is my new favorite topic of conversation.”
Collette was mortified. “I would rather not speak of hedgehogs. But when I am nervous I sometimes say things before I can think.”
“Such as?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me,” he drawled. “How does a male hedgehog know when a female hedgehog is attracted to him?”
She shook her head again. She would not answer this question. He danced them into the center of the ballroom, so the light from the chandelier shone directly on her. There was no denying every single eye in the ballroom was on her.
“Does the female hedgehog wink at the male or flutter a fan?”
“No. Sh-she—”
He raised a dark brow.
“The boar may be attracted to scent cues produced from females in estrus.”
“Scent cues from…?” He gave her an innocent look, but she imagined he looked as innocent as Lucifer fallen from heaven. “Her lips? Her skin? Her—”
“The music is so loud, my throat is quite hoarse,” Collette said. The only way to avoid this topic was to pretend she could not speak.
“Fortunately, I can remedy the problem and give us a chance to speak privately.”
She did not like the look on his face. “The waltz will be over soon,” she objected.
“Not soon enough. Now, just follow my lead.”
Collette’s heard thudded in her chest. Now what did the man plan to do? She could not allow him to make more of a spectacle of the two of them. “But monsieur—”
Too late. With exaggerated movements, Beaumont twisted to the side and grimaced in pain. “My ankle!” he cried. Keeping one hand in hers, he bent and touched his ankle with the other. “I fear I have sprained it,” he said loudly.
Collette felt her mouth drop open, but when she bent to examine his ankle, she caught him staring at her.
He winked.
The scoundrel! His ankle was perfectly fine. But if this was his plan to remove her from the center of attention, he had not thought it through. This little play was only earning them more attention.
“Are you hurt badly?” a lady who had been dancing near them asked.
“Do you need assistance?” her partner inquired.
“No, no.” Beaumont waved a hand. “I think a few moments’ rest is just the thing. Miss Fournay, may I escort you to the terrace? The fresh air will do us both good.”
“O-of course,” she said. Her face was so hot she could have touched a wick to it and lit a candle. But Beaumont was playing his part for all he was worth. He draped an arm over her shoulder and hobbled beside her. Collette was forced to put an arm around his waist to maintain her balance. The other guests made way for them as Beaumont steered her toward the terrace doors. He bent his head, as though in pain, and his warm breath fell on the bare patch of skin between her neck and shoulder.
“You needn’t make such a show,” she said, speaking without moving her lips.
“Oh, but I like making a show. Even more, I like having your arm about me. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”
Collette held her tongue until they finally reached the terrace. She pushed the door open and led him outside, where she released him as though he were the handle of a hot pan. If his ankle had really been injured, he would have stumbled. But he caught himself easily and leaned negligently on the stone balustrade. Collette walked to the other end, only a short distance away. This was no country house, but a London town house and the terrace was only five or six feet across. But even if she could not distance herself from Beaumont, she was grateful for the cool air on her face. She lifted her face to catch the breeze and closed her eyes as it washed over her.
“I take it you did not appreciate my little piece of theater.”
She flicked a glance at him. “Truthfully, monsieur, I would have preferred to simply finish the dance and exit the floor unobtrusively.”
“You are very good at being unobtrusive.”
She froze, her arms on the balustrade going quite stiff. She chose her next words carefully. “It must appear so to you. You are very good at creating a spectacle.”
He laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
Collette let out a sigh of relief. She was reading too much into his words. He did not suspect her. He was a flirt and hungry for attention. He didn’t mean anything more than what he said.
“And how are you enjoying your stay in London, Miss Fournay?”
Collette bit her lip. Now she would be forced to make conversation with him, a skill for which she amply shown had no talent. But it would not last long. Dinner would be served soon, and they would have to go in. “London is…” What should she say? It was not nearly as beautiful as Paris, but she did not want to invite speculation about any time she might have spent in Paris.
“London is rainy. I think it must have rained every day since I have been here.”
“And it never rains in Paris?”
“Of course, it rains in Paris, but…” She trailed off. She had given away more than she’d planned. “I mean to say, but I have not spent much time in Paris and cannot adequately compare the two.”
“There is no comparison,” Beaumont said casually. “Paris is architecturally stunning and eminently more sophisticated than London. A simple stroll down Bond Street will tell you it pales in comparison with the Champs-élysées.”
“I have not strolled on the Champs-élysées in years,” she said. “I am surprised you have had the opportunity.”
He smiled. “I can be unobtrusive too.”
She had seen the truth of that tonight, when he’d seemed to come out of the woodwork to claim their dance.
“If you did not live in Paris, where did you live?”