And then he began to dance. He moved so smoothly, she didn't have to think about what her feet did. All by themselves, they seemed to know the steps. She forgot to hum.
His smile seemed as intimate as a kiss—that second kiss she was craving but knew she would never get. "Now you can follow me around," he said playfully, "instead of me following you."
"I'm sorry about yesterday. I was in an odd mood."
"I understand."
The fact that she believed he did understand didn't make her feel any better.
His gray eyes watched her so intently, she feared she might lose herself in their depths. She couldn't have torn her own gaze away if she'd wanted to. She fit perfectly in his arms, the two of them moving together as though they'd been born to share a dance floor. Where his hand rested on her back, heat seemed to penetrate his glove and her dress, warming her all over.
The song came to an end. Corinna and Juliana stopped humming. The incessant rain pounded on the hammerbeam roof. Tris kept dancing, his gaze still fastened on Alexandra.
She felt rather than saw Griffin's glare. "Switch!" he called, shoving himself between them. He handed Tris a sweet. "Time for another chocolate cake, isn't it?"
"Thank you," Tris said and stepped back, allowing Boniface to take his place.
For the next minute or two, Alexandra danced in a daze. Boniface had improved slightly. He actually held her hand, and he trod on her toes only once.
"Switch!" Tris called.
Alexandra noticed Juliana sweetly hand him a cake as she joined him. Sometimes her sister grated on her nerves.
"Why are you frowning?" Griffin asked, holding her a little too tightly. "You're supposed to pay attention to your partner."
"Thank you for the advice. You could write a book and call yourself A Gentleman of Distinction."
"Stop watching him," he growled low.
"I'm studying his technique. He's good, isn't he?"
"How would you know?" He swung her farther away. "You've never seen anyone waltz before in your life."
"Switch!" Tris called.
Not to be outdone by Juliana, Alexandra rushed to grab one of the little cakes before meeting him. Her sisters laughed, but the smile Tris gave her made her knees turn to jelly.
Yet when his arm came around her, his sure guidance kept her twirling in perfect rhythm. She felt giddy, lightheaded. As their gazes held, she wondered whether to attribute that to the motion or to him.
Him. Definitely him.
Wishing he'd never let go, she searched for a neutral topic of conversation. "If you never go out in society, when did you learn how to waltz?"
"Directly after my uncle died, when I first inherited the marquessate."
Before the scandal broke out, then. "Did a dancing master teach you?"
"No." When she just looked at him, he added, "A woman taught me."
If she hadn't turned green before, she surely did now. "A woman? Who?"
It was possibly the rudest question she'd ever asked.
"It doesn't signify," he said, somehow managing to sound both evasive and blithe. "Just someone who hoped to dance with me at many balls."
He spoke in past tense, Alexandra consoled herself. Quite obviously, that woman's hopes had ultimately been dashed. But she hated her, regardless.
Even though she couldn't remember hating anyone before.
"Switch!" Griffin yelled, sounding so annoyed she was glad her next partner was Boniface instead of him.
She gave the butler a big smile. "You're surely improving, Boniface."
"Thank you, my lady." He stumbled. "Pardon me."
"No, no, you're doing fine." Since he didn't seem to be leading her, she led him instead. "Just think, you'll be able to waltz at the next servants' ball."
"I think not, my lady. I don't believe waltzing is my forte."
"Oh, bosh," she said, although she agreed. "You're doing just fine."
"Switch!" Tris called.
Griffin started twirling her with a little more gusto than necessary. "What were you two talking about so intently?"
"Boniface fears that waltzing is not his forte."
"Not Boniface. You and Tristan."
"Goodness, Griffin. That was a good two minutes ago. I cannot remember the conversation, but I'm certain it wasn't anything significant."
"He was holding you too close."
"No, he wasn't. You're not holding me close enough. There's a reason some people think the waltz is a scandalous dance, I'll have you know."
"Switch!" Tris called. While Alexandra headed to fetch him a chocolate cake, he added, "You're all doing splendidly."
"Good," Griffin said. "Because we're all finished."
Alexandra turned to protest, her gaze swinging past her brother and over to Tris. As she met his eyes, she felt that connection slam into her once again.
Her knees started shaking.
Sweet heaven, Griffin was right. Tris had been holding her too close. And she'd been encouraging him, not to mention flirting and acting jealous.
All wrong, so wrong. Tris was wrong for her, wrong for her family, wrong for her sisters.
She took the plate of remaining cakes and held it before her like a shield. "I'll go put these in the dining room," she said, keeping her tone as casual as possible. When Tris gave the sweets a longing glance, she released a tense laugh. "Don't worry; we'll save them for you. They'll go well with your port after dinner."
She didn't breathe until she'd escaped, leaving the sweets on one of the dining room's side tables and her heart in the great hall.
NINETEEN
WITH ONLY A day and a half left before the ball—and less than that before Tris departed—Alexandra was finding it hard to sleep. Still lying awake in her bed well after midnight, she sighed and lit a candle, leaned back against her pillows, and slid a copy of Mansfield Park off her night table.
Then sat with it unopened on her lap.
Unless one could count fleeting glances, she hadn't seen Tris in the two days since the dance lesson. He'd ordered his meals brought to the workshop, where he was building the second pump. But his rush to finish
