Free The Wedding Trap by Tracy Anne Warren Page B

floor with a partner. But blister it, I didn’t think this plan through very well, did I? We’ve no one to play for us.”
    He set a hand at his waist. “Here we are in the music room and we’re to have no music. You don’t suppose Mrs. Litton knows the pianoforte, by any chance?”
    “No, I wouldn’t imagine so,” Eliza said, still eyeing him quizzically.
    Kit ignored her look as he considered ringing for the housekeeper to ask the woman if she could pick out a waltz on the keys. But just as fast as the thought appeared, he discarded it. Coaxing Eliza into an easy conversation was going to be difficult enough without there being an audience present to eavesdrop on every word they said.
    “I suppose we ought to have gone to the ballroom despite our lack of music,” he continued, “but the space is so massive I thought we’d feel lost in there with only the two of us. Besides, the mirrors might put you off your stride.”
    When she gave no reply, he made her an elegant bow then extended his right hand. “Miss Hammond, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
    She shook her head, making no move to accept his hand. “My pardon, but I do not see how dancing will help me learn to be more at ease in my speech. I already know how to dance.”
    “Indeed you do, which is why I thought of it. You are an excellent dancer, Eliza. A shame more gentlemen do not realize what they are missing.”
    Her cheeks turned a becoming pink at his compliment.
    “Have a bit of faith. I’m your mentor, remember?” he teased, shooting her a grin. “Come let us see if this will work.”
    Once more he offered his hand. This time she accepted.
    He wore no gloves.
    Eliza trembled, her pulse bounding at the sensation of his warm, naked flesh curving around her own. Her bare palm fit small and unsteady within his hold, his controlled strength evident in his touch.
    Dear me.
She hoped her hand didn’t begin to perspire. How mortifying that would be. She wished she could pull away and rub her palm against her skirt but knew the gauche gesture would only make matters worse.
    At least Kit didn’t seem to notice her heightened apprehension as he set his other hand upon her waist, his grasp firm yet undemanding. With a small tug, he drew her closer, careful to leave the proper distance between their bodies. She fixed her gaze upon his firm jaw and square chin, tracing the faint dimple that creased its center.
    Her pulse thumped again.
    Swallowing sharply, she lowered her gaze to his cravat.
    He took a step and propelled her into a waltz. Moving on blind instinct, she followed his lead.
    “Dah-daa-Dum, dah-daa-Dum, dah-dah-Dum, dah-dah-Dum, dah-dah-Dum…”
    Her eyes flashed upward as he swung her in a circle, a small giggle escaping her lips.
    The improvised melody ceased, Kit’s striking eyes alight with humor. “No good? I was trying to provide some music for us.”
    She couldn’t prevent a smile. “It is fine. Just unexpected. Pray continue.”
    “No, I can’t now, you’ve muddled the mood. But it’s all for the best, I suppose, since I can’t very well hum and talk at the same time, now can I?”
    He led her easily around the floor, her feet gliding in a smooth, effortless rhythm.
    “May I compliment you on your gown, Miss Hammond? It is a lovely shade of blue, if you don’t mind my saying so. Is it new?”
    This was it, she realized. The lesson had officially begun as Kit shifted the conversation into more formal territory, keeping his words light with just a touch of flirtatiousness.
    “Yes,” she said. Her monosyllabic response sounded stiff and dry as a slice of day-old toast, her neck muscles tightening as nerves returned. He waited politely for her to continue, but as usual she could think of nothing further to say.
    “Acknowledge the compliment with a slight inclination of your head,” he instructed in a gentle tone. “A blunt ‘yes’ won’t lead to further discussion.”
    Obediently, she dipped her chin.
    “Good.