Hadrian by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

“Dance with me.”

Hadrian’s voice came from the shadows to Avis’s left, and she wasn’t sure he was even speaking to her. The evening had been long, but busy enough that she hadn’t had to think much—to feel much.

“In the garden shadows?” Avis replied when Hadrian stepped closer. “Enough people are strolling that we’d be recognized.” Enough people had also stolen off into the garden to engage in behaviors Avis could only envy.

“Dance with me here, on the terrace, in full view of our neighbors.” Hadrian ambled forward, and by torchlight his blond features had a resolute, Viking quality.

“I have much to do, Hadrian,” she replied, rearranging empty glasses on the punch table. “If I tarry on the dance floor, it will cause talk, and ensure the help has to stay up that much later.”

“The help,”—Hadrian took her hand in his—“is hanging back, lest they get in your way as you make excuses to avoid mingling and enjoying yourself.”

Avis was so shocked at that bluntness she let Hadrian tug her from behind the punch table while—blast and damnation—several footmen and two maids hovered nearby, apparently waiting for her to take herself elsewhere.

“I’m right,” Hadrian went on, “and you haven’t danced once this evening.”

“Because the last time I did dance, Fenwick heard endless sermons about getting above his station.” While Avis had heard a few from Lily about not knowing hers.

“I’m your almost-fiancé,” Hadrian said as the little orchestra tuned up. “You belong in my arms, at my side, and not among the servants, longing for this night to be over.”

She’d been praying for that, between aiming false smiles in no particular direction and ignoring Lily’s anxious surveillance between every dance.

“Hadrian, I know you mean well—”

She allowed him to arrange her in waltz position—the last dance of the evening would be a waltz—because she could not dissuade him without creating a scene for which she would be more than lectured.

He held her a hair closer than he should, and she submitted to this presumption because it wasn’t nearly as close as she wanted to hold him. The music was slow, lilting and sweet, and perfect for ending a summer night’s revelry.

“You have to be exhausted,” Hadrian said near her ear. “You’re letting me lead.”

“You’re more subtle about it than Fen,” Avis said, stifling a yawn. “I fit you better.”

“You fit me perfectly.” He fell silent, as if expecting her to argue, but she let him pull her particularly near on a turn. For the duration of this dance, she was best served by not making a fuss, and if she enjoyed not making a fuss, well, the dance would soon be over.

“People are staring,” Hadrian noted moments later. “Do you ever get used to it?”

“I haven’t, though it’s gone on for years.”

“Do you recall when it started?”

“Started?”

“I can’t believe anybody would say or do anything to insult Benjamin and Vim’s sister. While you and Alex recuperated at Landover, Harold would have beaten to a pulp any man who tried.”

“The men aren’t the problem,” Avis said, sad—and relieved—that Hadrian was seeing the truth of her situation.

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