[Previously: Lavinia and Cedric are finally getting some quality time together. He has returned from an extended trip to Kentham's outlying farms and the two of them are in his office talking and getting to know one another while the Earl and his guests are below stairs at the party.]
His French was as stilted as ever, but there was in his voice a hint of the sense of humour she'd witnessed in the stable yard a week ago. She felt herself become more light-hearted at the memory of his laughter and sketched a curtsy in his direction as he rose to his feet again, making use of her fan by hiding her smile behind it. "Perhaps I will pardon you, monsieur."
Cedric noted the position of the fan, and also the twinkle in the eyes above it, and attempted an elaborate bow in response. "I await my fate, mademoiselle, and pray you will not deal too harshly with a poor country lad, such as myself."
Part 11 ...
"If you were to receive the punishment you deserve, monsieur," she teased him, "you would be forced to dance one of your country dances with me, but that would be too cruel. Tonight, I have stepped upon the toes of each of my partners."
He laughed, but shook his head. "I cannot believe such a thing to be true, mademoiselle. Anyone who moves as gracefully as you do could not help but be a good dancer."
It pleased her to hear that he'd taken the time to notice her, but it wouldn't do to let him know that. "I think, monsieur, that you flatter me."
"No, Mademoiselle Lavinia, I leave that to those who are better suited to it than I."
His sincerity was evident, so she curtsied again and said, "In that case, Monsieur Cedric, merci beaucoup."
There was an undercurrent of emotion between them now. Both felt it--each in their own way--and neither was certain of what to do about it.
Finally, as if he could not bear to be still any longer, Cedric returned to the desk and opened the satchel lying there, fumbling with the papers inside. "Besides, mademoiselle, you look so lovely tonight, that I-I'm certain any partner of yours would not mind ... even if you did tread upon him."
His back was to her, but his voice was as expressive of his state of mind as his face would have been. There was tiredness at the edge of it, yes, but beyond that were happiness, curiosity, wonder and amusement. She smiled to herself--how could she have ever thought him dull?
"Merci du compliment, monsieur. But, if what you say is true, then I shall be forced to wear this dress to every ball or party I attend, for I fear that I cannot seem to learn the dance where the hands go thus," and she positioned her arms to show him what she meant.
He turned at her words, and stood transfixed. She was so beautiful, there in the glow of the candles and the fire, poised as if in the midst of dancing, that Cedric could not take his eyes off her, nor could he recall his very worthy resolve to keep her at arm's length until he knew for certain the depth of her involvement with his uncle. For all he knew, she might have fallen further under Lucius' spell since he'd seen her last. Although, what Jacques would have termed his "foolish optimism" was pointing out to him that her presence here, at this moment, would seem to indicate that she had not.
"Perhaps, mademoiselle," he ventured quietly, "that is because you did not have the right teacher." He couldn't believe he was saying this ... doing this! He really needed to be cautious. Not only that, he had no right to look for happiness with any woman until he had more to offer her.
Lowering her arms, Lavinia stared at him intently, wondering if she'd heard correctly, and feeling a blush spreading across her cheeks which she hoped the soft lighting would keep hidden from him. Somewhere, way in the back of her mind, a tiny voice was trying to get her attention: to warn her, to urge caution, to remind her that young ladies should not visit a young gentlemen's room unchaperoned ... even if that room was an office, but somehow she couldn't quite catch what it was saying. Was it the beating of her heart, or her quickened breathing, which drowned out that little voice?
"Perhaps, monsieur," she replied softly.
"Perhaps ... I could show you it ... someday ...." His voice died away, along with his courage, for she was looking at him so strangely he didn't dare go on.
She heard the tremor in his voice as he spoke and realised he was nervous. Most men she'd encountered were very sure of themselves and of their abilities where the weaker sex was concerned. Cedric's own uncle, the Earl, had been no exception to this, taking her attraction to him as a given and, just this evening in fact, beginning to act as if there were, already, an understanding between them.
Lavinia, unsure in her own mind as to what she should do about the Earl's manner towards her, found this hesitancy on Cedric's part reassuring, and very appealing.
She moved closer to him. "Perhaps, monsieur, instead of perhapsing, we should just dance. It would be," she told him, with an enchanting smile playing about her mouth, "a kindness to your fellow Englishmen, n'est-ce pas?
A low chuckle answered this sally, and he nodded his agreement. "One might even say that it's my patriotic duty, then?"
"Oui, monsieur," she agreed, laughter just below the surface of her words, "it is your duty."
He bowed gravely, as befitted the occasion, and then offered her his hand.
As their fingers touched, the teasing atmosphere seemed to fade away, and they were left staring into one another's eyes, momentarily forgetting what they'd intended to do. That touch, which should have been so casual, or even insignificant, was anything but and they both knew it. It felt so natural and yet so charged with intriguing undercurrents, familiar and yet unknown, inevitable and at the same time unexpected.
Lavinia recovered first. "The dance, monsieur," she murmured reluctantly, and a bit breathlessly, "you were going to show me the part with the hands."
"Yes ... of course, mademoiselle. I'm sorry."
She felt his hand tremble slightly as he pulled her into the step, and she smiled reassuringly up at him. All thoughts of her father, Lucius, the guests downstairs, even the chill of the room, were forgotten as they took that first step together, surrounded by the things he loved--gifts from an adored grandfather--and it was as if the old Earl himself were smiling down upon them.
