When they returned to their chairs, the only ones seated were Mr. Pankhurst and the elder Mrs. Blankenship, who were locked in lively conversation.
“I wonder if Papa will ask Mrs. Blankenship to dance,” Dot said.
“What about his leg? Or is it his foot?”
“It seems to vary.” She had a distasteful look on her face. “But it seems to vanish in Mrs. Blankenship’s presence.”
As, indeed, it did. The very next set, Mr. Pankhurst led the lady out onto the dance floor.
Appleton turned to Dot. “Forgive me, my love, for not telling you how splendidly you waltz.”
“It’s my dancing master who’s to be commended.”
He ran a seductive finger along her nose. It was a perfect nose. “You’re too modest. You were wonderful.”
As his friends, including the newly arrived Sir Elvin, closed around him, he watched with a mixture of pride and jealousy as Dot became a figure of other men’s admiration.
Not once during the remainder of the night was he able to claim her for a dance, not even for the Sir Roger de Coverley that closed out the night.
He stood back sulking as she merrily danced with a fashionably dressed young gentleman who’d just come from London and appeared to be taken with his fiancée. When he heard Glee comment on what a fine-looking man was dancing with Dot, Appleton was overcome by the urge to spar with said man during his sparring session the following morning. He would take great pleasure in knocking him to the floor.
On the way home that night, Mr. Pankhurst was effusive in his praise of Mrs. Blankenship. “Did you not think she was the most handsome of the older women there tonight?”
“Undoubtedly,” Dot said.
“She regrets that I’ve still not met her son,” Mr. Pankhurst continued. “He’s a scholar, you know.”
“So I’d heard,” she said. “As is Sir Elvin’s twin brother. I should like to meet them both.”
“As would I,” her father concurred. “As I told the good lady. She promised that she would present me with a copy of her son’s latest book.”
“How delightful. Did you know, Papa, his bride helps him with his research?”
“I didn’t, but Mrs. Blankenship did say they were both very bookish and not inclined to attend assemblies.”
Mr. Pankhurst soon resurrected the topic of Mrs. Blankenship. “And was Mrs. Blankenship not an excellent dancer?”
“Frightfully good,” Annie answered. “But I was awfully impressed with your unfaltering
skill, Mr. Pankhurst. I cannot credit that it’s been more than twenty years since you’ve danced.”
He shrugged. “I suppose it’s one of those skills that always comes back to one.” When they reached Dot’s house, Mr. Pankhurst left the coach first.
As Appleton moved toward the house, he slowed and whispered to Dot. “As You Like It is being performed at the theatre. I should like to take you tomorrow night.”
Her eyes shimmered. “I should love to see a Shakespearean play above anything!”
He stopped halfway between his coach and her front door. “I can think of one more thing,” he said in a low, husky voice, his head dipping as he drew her close. He’d intended to gently settle his lips on hers, but once he found the velvety warmth of her compliant mouth, he was powerless to tame his hungry yearning. He devoured her in the rhythm of the moist, spiraling intensity of the kiss.
He could have gone on endlessly, kissing a trail to her enticing breasts, but for the proximity to her father and his sister bringing him back to his senses. “Oh, my love, I am most eager to make you—and only you—my wife.”
Still breathless, he stood back and regarded her. She was even more captivating than the Italian opera singer who’d so mesmerized him several years earlier. And this woman would soon be his.
Though she faced him, her dark lashes lowered, hiding her reaction to their kiss. But she could not hide the fact she was as breathless as he.
When he returned to the coach, he was so stunned by the powerful effect of Dot’s kiss he completely forgot that he was sharing the carriage with Annie. They were half way to their house when he remembered she sat across from him. Then he remembered he was out of charity with her. He glared. “I am unhappy that you’ve danced with Henry Wolf again.”
“Really, Timothy. You’re being quite the ogre. The man couldn’t be nicer to me. And he’s sinfully rich. I don’t know why you dislike him so.”
“I have my reasons. In the past, you’ve always trusted my judgment.”
She stomped her slipper. “I think you’re being an ogre.”
Being head of the family was no easy task.
Chapter 13
“Where’s Annie?” Dot asked as Forrester showed her into the coach the following night. Would this be the first time she would be alone with him at nighttime?
“She had promised to attend a musical with Sir Elvin’s sister.”
Dot frowned. “I shall miss her.” As fond as she was of Annie, though, she didn’t really mean it. Truth be told, Dot was thrilled to have Forrester all to herself, especially after the intoxicating intimacy of the kiss they had shared the previous night.
“You’ll be seeing much of my sister the rest of your life. I, for one, am happy to be alone with my intended.”
His statement delighted her. “We’ve been alone a good bit during our investigations.”
He put an arm around her. He smelled of sandalwood, and she was acutely aware of his breathing—things she’d not noticed when they were accompanied in the carriage by her father or Annie.
“But it’s different at night,” he whispered hoarsely.
Her pulse accelerated. His tone was intimate. She was not accustomed to Forrester speaking in such a tender voice. She wondered if he were going to kiss her again. Even though nearly four-and-twenty hours had elapsed since that heavenly occurrence, its magical effect was as vivid now as when she’d felt the first brush of his lips on hers and had nearly unraveled.
How puzzled she’d been later in the dark comfort of
