A Secret Consequence For The Viscount. Sophia James

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      ‘But they have not the luck to dance with the most beautiful woman in the house.’

      ‘I think your eyesight must have suffered with your injury.’

      ‘Gold suits you.’

      She was quiet.

      ‘So does silence.’

      At that she laughed, because thus far since meeting him again she had voiced her opinion without reserve. He made her talk again. He made her take risks.

      He was quickly catching on to the rhythm of the dance and manoeuvred her easily about the room despite the number of others on the floor. She could feel hardness in his body where before there had been softness. He smelt of lemon soap and cleanliness, the lack of any other perfume refreshing.

      At five foot six she was quite tall for a woman. With him she felt almost tiny, her head fitting easily into the space beneath his chin. Breathing him in, she allowed him to lead her, closing her eyes for a second just to feel what she once had at the Bromley town house the night before his disappearance. The night Lucy was conceived.

      She had sent Lucy away today, back to Millbrook, just so that as a mother she might understand the road she must now travel.

      Towards him or away? The quick squeeze of his fingers against hers brought her eyes up to his own, an emotion there she could not interpret.

      ‘A lack of memory is a hard taskmaster,’ he whispered, ‘because sometimes I imagine...’ He stopped.

      ‘What? What do you imagine?’

      ‘That I have danced with you before.’

      She looked away and hated the lump that had formed in the back of her throat.

      The night lights of the city had glowed through the large sashed windows of his town house as he had taken her into his arms and danced her to his bed.

      Please remember, she thought. Please remember and love me. Then Mr Dromorne’s face at the side of the floor came into view, watching with eyes that held no warmth whatsoever and as the music ran down into the final notes Nicholas escorted her back to her brother.

      She did not see him again that evening, but knew he had gone into the card room because the whispers of his luck there began to float into the salon.

      An hour later when Rose pleaded tiredness, Eleanor was more than grateful to accompany her home.

      * * *

      Nicholas sat with a whisky in his room and listened to the clock strike the hour of five. The fire in the grate was still ablaze for he had fed it for all the small hours of the early morning with the coal piled near the hearth in a shining copper holder.

      Eleanor Huntingdon was asleep somewhere in the house and close. He wished they could talk again. He wished he could see her smile and hear her clever honest words.

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