“They do,” Marianne said, a wistful tone in her voice that David didn’t care for.
He scrunched up his nose and narrowed his eyes on the couple. Unfortunately, there was no doubt they made a striking pair. Was it his imagination, or did the marquess miss a step in the dance? He clearly wasn’t an expert at the waltz. Annabelle deserved a better partner.
Before he had a chance to examine his motivation, David pressed his glass in his sister’s hand. “Hold my drink,” he said, before stomping off in the direction of Annabelle and her marquess.
Annabelle didn’t know exactly what happened, but one moment she was dancing with Lord Murdock, trying to remember precisely why she’d thought he was petulant, and the next she was in David’s arms.
She blinked at him several times as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. “David, what are you—?”
“I cut in,” he answered, pride in his voice. “Murdock didn’t seem your match for a waltz.”
She stared at him as if he’d lost his senses. “Didn’t seem my what?”
“He missed a step,” David insisted, leading her perfectly in the one-two-three cadence of the waltz.
“I didn’t notice,” Annabelle shot back.
“He also had his hand too far down your back.”
“Are you mad?” She eyed him carefully. “One doesn’t just cut in on a dance floor at a ball in London.”
“Yes, one does, apparently. If one is me.” He gave her a smug smile.
Annabelle glanced around at the partygoers standing on the sidelines. There were already people whispering behind their hands. She would have to work diligently to fix this after the dance ended. “Listen to me, David. Such things are not done. I didn’t mention it during our lessons because it didn’t occur to me that you might do something like this, but you simply don’t interrupt a couple’s dance.”
David’s face went blank. “Perhaps that’s the difference between an earl born in a cottage in Brighton versus one born in London with a silver spoon sticking out of his mouth. I do what I please.”
Annabelle glanced around again. In addition to the commotion they’d caused on the sidelines, now some of the other dancers were watching their conversation become more heated. This was not good, and getting worse by the moment.
Plastering a fake smile on her face, Annabelle lowered her voice. “Very well. We’ll finish this dance, for appearance’s sake. But we’ll need to talk about this more tomorrow morning at our next lesson.”
David plastered an equally false smile on his face too. “Oh, good. I cannot wait.”
Annabelle kept the fake smile on her face as she allowed herself to relax into the waltz. Just as he’d done in the salon at home, David spun her around the floor as if he’d been born to waltz. A much more fluid and confident dancer than Lord Murdock had been, David danced as if he’d invented the steps.
She tried not to notice how good he smelled, or the feel of his muscles beneath his coat or the heat spreading through her entire body from his hand touching the small of her back. She met his gaze and their eyes remained locked. For the remainder of the dance, it was as if the entire ballroom had fallen away and they were the only two people left in the world.
When the dance finally ended, David escorted Annabelle back to their group as if nothing untoward had happened at all.
Annabelle immediately began thinking of ways to mitigate the gossip. She searched the crowd for Murdock. How had he taken the slight of having been sent packing from the dance floor? Lord Murdock was already dancing with another young woman. Thank heavens. That would surely help. If the man was pouting in a corner, the gossip would be unmanageable.
Next, Annabelle again scanned the crowd along the sidelines of the dancing. How had the mothers and chaperones felt about David’s cutting in? Was he already garnering a reputation as an ill-mannered clod? She desperately hoped the ton would be kind, and grant him some leniency. But when had the ton ever been kind, or ever granted leniency? Word of this social slight would be in the papers tomorrow, no doubt.
Lady Elspeth came sliding over to David just then and declared, “Lord Elmwood, you’ve made cutting in all the rage this Season. I do hope you’ll pay me the same regard when next I’m dancing with another gentleman.”
The other ladies and gentlemen, who had followed Elspeth and were hanging on her every word, all laughed and declared the same thing. By the time a quarter hour had passed, everyone was talking about either cutting into a dance or being cut in upon.
Annabelle stared with her mouth open at the people she’d known her entire life. In the span of one evening, they’d decided that both Lady Elspeth and David were to be emulated in every particular.
Nauseating, as far as Lady Elspeth went. But welcome and wonderful when it came to David. Annabelle nodded resolutely. Fine then. She’d done her duty. She’d set him off to a fair start. Why, he might already be the most eligible bachelor of the Season, and if he wasn’t, he was well on his way.
Lord Murdock was finishing his dance with the other young lady and appeared to be headed toward her again. Annabelle previously may have had a momentary lapse in judgement in which she accepted his offer to dance, but she didn’t relish an awkward conversation with him now. She retrieved her champagne flute from her mother and ducked to the side. “I’m going to take some fresh air in the gardens. I’ll be back soon.”
Watching Annabelle go, David whispered to Marianne. “I don’t think she appreciated my cutting in.”
Marianne shook her head at her brother. “Are you jesting? You’ve started a new trend. And your first time at a London ball, at that.” Marianne lifted her champagne glass in silent salute. “I heard no less than half a dozen young ladies say they hoped you’d cut in on their next dance partner.”
“I’m done with dancing for the evening,” David muttered, taking a reluctant sip from his glass.
“Don’t tell the young ladies that,” Marianne replied in a singsong voice. “You want to be the catch of the Season, don’t you?”
David shook his head. “This catch is going out for some fresh air, too, but not in the gardens. Far, far, away from the gardens, actually.”
“Have fun,” Marianne replied, still smiling.
David made his way toward the French doors on the far opposite side of the ballroom than the ones Annabelle had left through moments earlier. The last thing he needed was more gossip about himself and Annabelle. When he’d cut in on her dance with Murdock, David had merely been trying to save her feet from an incompetent dancer. That was all. But apparently, these people turned every small gesture into gossip. Annabelle had taken him to task for it. Fine. Next time he’d allow her slippers to be stomped upon. She’d chosen to dance with Murdock, hadn’t she? Even though she claimed she had no interest in being courted. Why did she say one thing and do another? And even more maddening, why the bloody hell did David care? He tossed back the final bit of his champagne before taking a fresh glass from a footman’s tray and leaving the ballroom.
The chilly spring night air hit David in the face the moment he stepped outside. He breathed it in gladly. It had become stuffy in the ballroom with all the candles, the dancing, and the bodies pressed together along the sidelines.