Accidental Fiancee by Mary Moore

Author:Mary Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon
Published: 2015-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The night seemed interminable to Grace, and they were only halfway through dinner before the ball. As she pushed a lobster patty around her plate, all she could think of was how even a quarter of the price of the excessive food here could have bought a month’s worth of healthy, nourishing supplies for all the Janes at the orphanage on Baxter Street. Brandon gently nudged her knee with his, an action that would have shocked her only two months ago. But she recognized it as a signal to let her know he was thinking the same. “Soon, my sweet life,” he said quietly. She was so preoccupied that it never occurred to her to wonder that they could be so in tune to each other’s thoughts.

Brandon’s sisters were delighted to welcome Lord Pennington, and Lydia was delighted that the privilege of the first dance would go to her father. Grace thought that her sister’s happiness was complete with their father there, and she no longer begrudged it to her. Perhaps his presence would be the catalyst to end all the subterfuge. Perhaps it was God’s plan all along.

But she forgot all that when Brandon claimed her for the first dance. The minute the musicians began a waltz, Grace knew it was of Brandon’s doing; however, she did not care. Permission to dance the waltz had come weeks before, yet during the entire Season, she had never once danced a waltz with him. Sometimes she’d bit her lip in vexation as someone else asked, seconds before him, and other times she’d thought he purposely avoided it. But when he took her into his arms this night, all other thoughts flew from her head. She relaxed in his embrace and all the nervousness surrounding the ball drifted away in the music.

“Grace?”

“Yes, Brandon.”

“We are back to Brandon. I thank you.”

They circled lazily, sometimes avoiding another couple by mere inches, but she followed where he led, and smiled as she realized that a rake must be an exceptional dancer. He led her so easily that her body responded naturally, moving in whichever direction he chose. And he smelled so good.

“I believe I could get used to holding you in my arms.” He pulled her toward him just a fraction. “You dance as gracefully as you do everything in your life. Shall we dance toward those open doors and finish the song out on a moonlit balcony?”

She smiled up at him in pure pleasure, and could see admiration in his eyes. “I think not.” How she wished she could say yes. “As we are being watched by a thousand eyes, it would only cause a dust up, and I am quite happy where I am.”

“Then we shall remain here.”

He pulled her close enough to clasp one of her hands against his chest. She could have laid her head against his shoulder and remained there all night. She knew at last why chaperones and dowagers thought the waltz was scandalous. But as his betrothed, she was allowed this small intimacy.

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