coughed into his hand appearing to hide a smile, while another looked genuinely afraid. Gabriel glanced at Meade and saw that his secretary was equally ashen. He had blundered again. Time to remove himself.
Just at that moment a group of young women passed by. He didn't know any of them but that never mattered. He was the host and could introduce himself. Smiling with all the confidence he could muster, he bid the group farewell.
"I find myself ready to dance, gentlemen. And I see a lovely accomplice right over there. If you will excuse me?"
They all nodded as he gave them a small bow and backed away, disappearing into the crowd. He would have to dance now. A young woman who would be more nervous than he would be the best choice. He scanned the crowd and then saw the group and strode over to them. Four women of differing degrees of attractiveness. All in their first or second year of being "out" and still blessedly naïve. Perfect.
He stood near the group and waited . . . one . . . two . . . three.
One of them gasped and the others turned their heads toward him. Just the response he'd been hoping for. He took another step toward their group, not looking directly at them and then, as if just noticing them from the corner of his eye, he turned his face toward them and bowed his head. "Ladies."
They just stared, which was perfect.
"Do you see my sister over there?"
They gazed to where he was pointing and then nodded, still looking dazed and a little terrified.
"As you can imagine, she and my mother are insisting I cast about for a wife. Tedious business, but I'm thinking to mollify them for the moment by dancing. Any volunteers?"
The petite blonde batted her lashes, her quick breathing making her bosom rise up and down so fast Gabriel thought she might faint. Another darker blonde just stared at him as if he was a statue come to life and was asking her to dance. But the brunette, not the pretty one, took a bold step forward and had the courage to touch his sleeve. "I'll dance." She lifted her chin with a determined air.
Gabriel gave her a bland smile and held out his arm. He hoped she'd had the necessary lessons.
Once on the dance floor, he started to feel nervous again but was determined not to show it. He took the young woman into his arms in the proper stance and watched the orchestra. As soon as the man's bow touched the strings of the violin, he began to move with the crush of dancers on the floor. One, two, three—one, two, three—one, two, three—turn. It wasn't so hard. If he concentrated he could feel the vibration of the music enough to give him the timing of the beat. Astounding really, that vibration traveled through the air. Or maybe it was the floor that vibrated, he wasn't sure, but it seemed to be enough.
Round and round they swept along on the notes of the waltz. If the woman in his arms tried to talk to him, he didn't notice. He was too busy making sure he didn't misstep. When it was over, he took her back to her friends, who began babbling at her with excited faces the minute he backed away.
He needed a break, a rest, from this emotional and mental fatigue that was still new to him. He made his way past groups of smiling, waving acquaintances to the French doors at the back of the ballroom and slipped outside into the garden. The night air soothed his hot cheeks. He sucked in breaths, exhaustion overcoming him. The thought of the midnight dinner to come made his stomach twist into knots. Too much conversation. He couldn't do it. He was starting to fail and had possibly already made a spectacle of himself. Too risky. He would have to make some excuse. He would retire. Send Meade a note and let him take care of it.
Thinking of the note, he realized he could circle around to the other side of the house and let himself in another set of doors that led to his library. Feeling strangely like a thief in his own house, he hugged the brownstone and clung to shadows as he edged toward the doors under