you mind terribly if
I...?”
“No, not
at all.” Josephine had barely uttered the first syllable before Diana bustled
across the ball to accost the tall gentleman.
She
grimaced inwardly. Diana was a fine looking woman, but she didn’t have much
wealth. Her connections to a wealthy aunt might bring her some prospects,
however, it was clear Mr Lonsdale was after a much bigger fish.
“Would
you like to dance?”
She
nodded her thanks. “Yes, that would be lovely.”
It had
been a while since she’d danced. She tried not to recall the last event she had
attended and how it had been on Dante’s arm. Damn him. Too many of her memories
involved him. No wonder it was so hard to let him go. Where was the man anyway?
She had continued to survey the large ballroom in the hopes of at least being
aware of where he was, but he appeared to have vanished.
Robbie
took her into his arms and they slipped in amongst the other dancers. He
whirled her around with such grace that she knew many women would be envious of
them. Perhaps they would think he was her new lover. How wrong they would be.
This
also bothered her. What if people assumed her success was simply down to her
becoming Robbie’s mistress? She tried to ignore the burning frustration
building in her stomach. How hard it was to become successful without a man.
For all the progress they had made as the fairer sex, too many women still
depended on a man to even survive.
“May I
cut in?”
The tap
to Robbie’s shoulder came near the end of the dance. Josephine hadn’t even
noticed Dante approach, too lost in thought was she.
Robbie
bowed out, ever the gentleman, and smiled. “Of course.”
And
with that, she was handed over to her old lover. Aware of people watching, she
made no protest and found herself firmly ensconced in Dante’s arms. His cologne
surrounded her in a blanket of familiarity whilst his powerful arms and warm
hands sent a thrum of excitement down to her lower body.
“You
look wonderful, Jo-Jo.”
“Thank
you,” she replied huskily.
His
eyes crinkled at the corners while their dark depths searched her face. Would
it always be this way, she wondered. Would he forever affect her like this,
leaving her feeling as though her knees were sponges and her limbs had detached
themselves from her body?
Dante
danced as he always had. With less grace and more recklessness. She remembered
the first time he’d taken her into his arms how thrilled she’d been by it. No
more staid dancing for Mrs Josephine Beaumont. Here was a man with whom she
could indulge in her artistic, outrageous side.
“How
are you?” he asked, leaning close to be heard over the music and swishing
skirts.
“Very
well.”
“And
your paintings? Have you sold anymore?”
“Yes,
actually. Robbie has arranged the sale of two more. It is his hope that we
might be able to put on a small exhibition at some point.”
“Robbie
has?” His expression hardened. “Of course he has.”
While
his face grew hard, so did his body. Hard and unyielding. He clamped her to him
as though fearful she might stumble and fall, or perhaps even escape him.
“How is
everything going with the coffee business?” she prompted—anything to bring back
the admiring look in his eyes and erase that clouded one.
“Well.”
A smile returned to his face. “You’ll be astonished to know that I have been
putting in a full day’s work every day this week. Julian couldn’t quite believe
it.”
She
shook her head. “No, I’m not astonished. You’ve always worked hard when you’ve
put your mind to it.”
He had
just never had the option, she supposed. It was common for second sons to
become useless wastrels because they had no aim in life. She didn’t count Dante
as a wastrel, however. Just a little lost. Maybe this separation had been good
for both of them. It seemed he might have found his way if the slight
straightening of his posture was anything to go by.
“You’re
proud of yourself, are