‘You should speak to my sister,’ Cecily said urgently.
‘I should?’ Mr de Lacy asked reluctantly.
‘Yes. I hope you can forgive her,’ Cecily said fervently. ‘I know it all seems strange, and that she has behaved most confusingly – but she does love you, Mr de Lacy.’
‘She does?’ he yelped in a voice suddenly falsetto. ‘Oh Lord.’
Cecily saw the silhouette of Montagu in the next room.
‘Think on what I have said,’ she instructed Mr de Lacy portentously, before leaving him.
‘Lord, I will – don’t you worry about that,’ Archie groaned.
Kitty could not be sure of her purpose, as she walked through the ballroom. She supposed she could tell herself she was looking for Pemberton – though in truth it was not his figure her eyes were searching for. She spotted Lady Radcliffe across the room, and the Dowager Countess waved at her. Kitty returned the gesture – noticing Mr de Lacy standing beside her, though he paled when he met Kitty’s eye. Strange. Lady Amelia was there too – her hair up, and her skirts let down. Lady Radcliffe must have felt it a good moment for her daughter to experience something of the Season, before her coming out next year. Lady Amelia looked very fine indeed, standing next to her mother – though the militant sparkle in her eye felt like trouble.
The music struck up, signalling the imminent beginning of the next set – and couples milling about suddenly began to circle one another, ladies picking up skirts, gentlemen holding out their hands. And she saw him, only ten feet away – he must have been waiting for her gaze to fall upon him, for when it did he raised his eyebrows quite mockingly, as if to say, ‘You’re late.’
She narrowed her eyes back in question. He held out a hand, inviting, and she moved forward without a second thought.
‘I shouldn’t have thought your rules about dancing would allow this,’ she told him, once she was standing in front of him.
‘I decided to make an exception,’ Radcliffe promised. ‘Would you dance with me, Miss Talbot?’
It was their last chance. After tonight, she might never allow herself such a moment again – but at least, at least they would have this. She took his hand as answer. They glided silently onto the middle of the floor. The music started; it was to be a waltz, it seemed. Her first.
His hand moved to her waist, and hers to his shoulder. It was different from when they had first danced – so very different. Then, there had been a veritable ocean of distance between them, whereas now, now they were standing very close to one another. It was much closer than she could have ever imagined it being. Kitty could feel the warmth of Radcliffe’s body next to hers, the friction of the smooth fabric of his tail coat against her dress, the press of his hand upon her back – even, though the music should have made it impossible, the sound of his breath in her ear.
She did not – could not – look at him as they began to move in one long circle around the room, spinning every dozen steps in formation. This was not at all what she had expected, and for once in her life, she had not a plan of what to say – of how to turn this to her advantage. This seemed to have occurred to him as unusual, too, for after a few moments he hummed in amusement.
‘It is not like you to be silent,’ he commented, smiling down at her.
She met his eyes for a moment before skittering them away, afraid of what she might see in them. It was the most nervous she had felt in his presence in weeks.
‘I do not know what to say,’ she admitted quietly. ‘Believe me, it is as strange to me as it is to you.’
He twisted her into a spin, the room flashing around Kitty as his arm guided her smoothly, and then they were back in their embrace once more, hands firmly clasped.
‘Perhaps I should speak then,’ Radcliffe said. He took a deep breath. ‘I have learnt … much, in these past few months, speaking to you – arguing with you, I should say. You have made me face all my hypocrisies, challenge all my views, made me realise all the ways in which I am still – after all these years – fighting with my father.’
If a few moments before Kitty could not look at him, now she could not look away. His words seemed straight from a dream, but she could almost not bear to hear them – it was too much, too close to everything she had ever wanted but never allowed herself to contemplate. They spun again – she was not paying a single ounce of attention to their steps, all of it fixed upon him, but somehow their feet were moving in quick synchronicity anyway.