The Victorians Collection

Chapter 7

What a tremendous crush. It will be difficult to find room to breathe, let alone dance, in this environment. He took in the sweaty mass of rarified humanity and sighed. The heat already clenched him like a fist, despite the icy wind blowing outside. I hate this. Oh, for a smaller, more intimate kind of entertainment: a few friends, a good meal, some interesting conversation. At least I could hear the music.

What a tremendous crushIt will be difficult to find room to breathe, let alone dance, in this environment.I hate this. Oh, for a smaller, more intimate kind of entertainment: a few friends, a good meal, some interesting conversation. At least I could hear the music.Flickering gaslights in the room provided better illumination than candles, but the compressed carbide flames only added to the warmth. A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek.

Feet pounded on the polished wood floor of the ballroom as he picked his way around the edges, near the hand-painted wallpaper. Christopher had seen some terrible wallpaper commissioned by those whose wealth exceeded their taste. In this home, an attractive pattern of the eyespots on peacock feathers embossed on a rich silver background embellished the walls from the polished wooden wainscoting to the ceiling. Christopher traced one oval with the tip of his finger.

It took Christopher fully half an hour to find his mother in the mass of milling, sweaty bodies. Had he been thinking more clearly, he would have found her sooner. Wisdom would have dictated he look near the open doors to the balcony, where blasts of wintry air lightened the sultry atmosphere. Julia Bennett stood with her back to the door, letting the wind ruffle her skirt.

A brown-haired woman beside her turned out to be one of her closest friends, Colin"s mother Mrs. Turner. After her marriage to Viscount Gelroy when she was extraordinarily young, she had remarried, not another nobleman, but a soldier, tossing her title away like rubbish.

Christopher approached. Tonight, his mother wore a lovely dress in a shade of soft blue that complemented her rich, fiery hair. She had just celebrated her fortieth birthday and had a few silver streaks at her temples, a few crow"s feet around her eyes, but that made her no less lovely.

Standing with the matrons was a taller, younger woman. This must be the one I"m supposed to meet. She certainly looks Italian, with her dark brown hair. Her skin, a darker shade than Julia"s, had a hint of warmth to its tone, which spoke of foreign shores and stronger sun. She has quite a pretty face, he noted. Her nose was a trifle on the bold side, but not unpleasantly so, and her teeth flashed white and straight.

This must be the one I"m supposed to meetShe certainly looks Italian, with her dark brown hairShe has quite a pretty faceHe arrived at her side, and she met his eyes for a frozen moment. In that heartbeat of connection, Christopher discovered something extraordinary. She"s more than pretty. She"s lovely. Something undefinable flared to life between them, riveting him to the spot.

She"s more than pretty. She"s lovely. .The young woman sucked in a breath and her gaze skated nervously away. Her retreat broke the spell, and Christopher turned, masking his startled reaction by feigning normalcy. “Good evening, Mother,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Mrs. Turner.” He reached out to clasp her hand.

“Good evening, Christopher.” His friend"s mother, who had always been more like an unofficial aunt, greeted him warmly. “How are you?”

“I"m well, thank you,” he replied. “Your son sends his regrets.”

“I"m sure.” Disappointment tightened her face.

“Good evening, son,” Julia said, directing attention away from Colin"s hopeless mess. “May I introduce you to a friend of mine?”

“Certainly, Mother.” Christopher"s gaze turned from Mrs. Turner to the lovely woman his mother wanted him to meet.

“This is Miss Katerina Valentino. Katerina, my son Christopher Bennett.”

He took the delicate, long-fingered hand and lifted it to his lips, and then raised his eyes to hers. She met his gaze for another long, unguarded moment, and then a wave of nervousness visibly washed over her, and she dropped her eyes to the floor.

As Colin said, powerfully timid. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Valentino. How do you like the party?”

As Colin said, powerfully timid.She replied so softly he couldn"t hear her.

“Katerina,” his mother said gently, “It"s very loud in here. You needn"t screech, but do raise your voice a little.”

She took a deep breath. “It"s… crowded. The hosts must be quite popular.” Her voice had a delicate and well-modulated pitch, and the sound sent an agreeable shiver up Christopher"s spine.

I could listen to this woman talk for hours, he thought, enjoying the sensation. Wait, what? Get ahold of yourself, man. “Yes, they are,” he said, returning to the mundane conversation.

I could listen to this woman talk for hours, Wait, what? Get ahold of yourself, man.“I was… glad to be invited,” she commented idly, though the force of will required for her to utter the simple phrase made it seem more important than it was. She tugged on her hand.

Christopher blinked, suddenly realizing he"d forgotten to let go. Her fingers fell from his grip. “I am also glad you were invited,” he said, trying to be charming.

A hint of color stained her cheeks.

So, she"s susceptible to a compliment. Good.

So, she"s susceptible to a compliment. Good.She glanced up at him again, meeting his eyes briefly. “The violin is… out of tune.”

Christopher listened. “You"re right. I suppose hiring the highest level of musicians isn"t necessary in this din. Do you like music then, Miss Valentino?”

“Yes, very much.” She raised her head at that, and he saw a hint of passion in her eyes.

“Do you play any instruments?” he asked, thankful to have stumbled upon a means of prolonging the conversation.

“The pianoforte,” she replied.

“Well?” he pressed.

Her eyes met his. “Yes.”

He raised his eyebrows. While most young ladies did learn to play the instrument, admitting right out that one played well—rather than well enough or some other self-deprecating comment—might be considered immodest. However, given how shy she was, she might be giving a modest assessment of her talent. How interesting it would be to hear that hint of passion expressed in music. I hope she isn"t too shy to play for me sometime.

How interesting it would be to hear that hint of passion expressed in music. I hope she isn"t too shy to play for me sometime.Wait, what? Why am I thinking of another meeting? This is a favor to Mother, nothing more. His internal argument distracted his attention, allowing his mouth to carry on flattering the girl without his full consent. “I would enjoy hearing it. I love music. Alas, I have no talent.”

Wait, what? Why am I thinking of another meeting? This is a favor to Mother, nothing more.“He exaggerates,” Julia interjected. “He sings rather well.”

Christopher shrugged. “Perhaps.” Only in your mind, Mother. I sing like an amorous bullfrog. “Well, Miss Valentino, would you care to dance?” Though the invitation escaped before he could consider its wisdom, he could feel no regret. The opportunity to touch Miss Valentino was not to be missed.

Only in your mind, Mother. I sing like an amorous bullfrog.The young woman looked up at him again briefly and then nodded once, returning her gaze to the floor while her cheeks flamed.

“Very good.” He extended his hand into her field of vision.

Hesitantly, she placed her palm in his and let him lead her onto the floor.

“My dear,” he told her as the waltz began, “I have a singular problem making conversation with your hairline. If you"re a musician, then I"m sure you have enough rhythm to take your eyes off your feet and look at me. Can you do that?”

She raised her face. This close to her, he could see the luscious curve of her lower lip. She had a mouth made for kissing. Her slender body fit perfectly in his arms; tall enough that their position aligned naturally with no need for him to stoop.

“Thank you for asking me to dance,” she said softly. “I know your mother put you up to it.”

Christopher inhaled in preparation to speak and the soft aroma of lilacs teased him. In the heart of icy winter, this woman smelled like spring. He answered her honestly. “Not at all. She put me up to meeting you. I asked you to dance because I wanted to.”

That hint of color darkened her cheeks again. “Why on earth would you?”

“You"re quite… pretty, you like music, and you"re interesting. Why would I not?”

Her blush darkened further. “Never mind.”

It appears her susceptibility to compliments is limited. “Right. So, let"s talk about something.”

It appears her susceptibility to compliments is limited.She gave him a considering look but remained silent.

He cast about for a topic. “Since you like music so much, do you have any favorite composers?”

“Beethoven,” she replied promptly. “I also like Chopin very much.”

He acknowledged her comment with a brief nod. “Not surprising. Do you play other instruments besides pianoforte?”

“Harpsichord. I"m afraid I"m useless on the organ. Those foot pedals defeat me.” A hint of a smile teased the corners of her mouth.

Christopher considered what playing the organ must be like. “No doubt. If I"m honest, I have to admit that despite years of lessons, I"ve never even managed the pianoforte. Do you also sing?”

“I sing well enough.”

Now there"s the expected response. “Alto?” he pressed, not ready to abandon such a promising topic.

Now there"s the expected response“Soprano.”

Their progress had led them to the open balcony door and a waft of welcome coolness washed over the couple. “Hmmm. I would like to hear that as well.”

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head and regarding him with confusion.

“You"re Italian, and you"re a soprano. Sounds like opera to me,” he teased.

She grinned. “Nothing like that, I assure you.”

At the sight of her shy smile, Christopher became even more entranced. She"s more than lovely. She"s… glorious. Between one heartbeat and the next, the vague thought of finding an opportunity to meet her again crystallized into a firm intention. I"m far from finished with getting to know Miss Valentino. He sighed internally. Mother was right.

She"s more than lovely. She"s… glorious.I"m far from finished with getting to know Miss Valentino.Mother was right.The conversation died, and they continued to dance in silence, but not the uncomfortable kind of silence that speaks of a desire to get away from each other. Instead, they engaged in a wordless exchange of attraction.

Christopher studied the details of his dance partner… the curve of her ear, the smooth line of her jaw, the slender column of her throat, the softness of her shoulder where it disappeared into her gleaming white dress, the dip of the bodice where it created the tiniest hint of cleavage. He could see her bosom was small, but on her slender frame, it only looked proportional. In fact, she was rather more than slender, almost emaciated. Her body felt fragile in his arms. A surge of protectiveness welled up, and he squashed it down. It won"t do to become enamored so quickly.

It won"t do to become enamored so quickly.She shifted her fingers in his grip. The hand in his captured his attention; dainty, but strong, with long, slender fingers; the hand of a keyboard player. What would it be like to have those lovely hands caress my body?

What would it be like to have those lovely hands caress my body?Christopher shook himself. What"s wrong with you? This is no time for lewd speculations. Forcing his mind into safer territory, he savored his dance with his unexpected companion.

What"s wrong with you? This is no time for lewd speculationsThe music ground to a halt with a long trill on the out-of-tune violin. Katerina winced.

“Thank you, my dear, for dancing with me,” he said as he took her arm in his and led her back to his mother. “May I claim another, later this evening?”

She looked at him, startled.

“Oh, is your card full?” he asked.

“Heavens, no,” she replied, as though the answer were obvious. “Don"t you think you"ve fulfilled your duty to your mother?”

“Yes,” he agreed easily. “She asked me to meet you. I did. Wanting to dance with you again has nothing to do with her.”

Katerina blinked. “Are you… joking?”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “Will you consider it, Miss Valentino?”

“I will,” she replied.

“Consider it?” he pressed.

“Dance with you.” Her cheeks flamed, but she met his eyes steadily.

He smiled at her. “By any chance, do you have the supper dance free?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes, if that"s what you want.”

“It is,” he said, allowing a hint of intensity to filter into his voice. “Shall we plan on it?”

“Yes.” Her smile turned shy and she looked away.

He accepted the retreat with easy confidence. She doesn"t trust me yet, but I"ll show her she can. “All right then, here"s my mother, and I shall be back to claim you later.” He kissed her hand again and headed out of the room.

She doesn"t trust me yet, but I"ll show her she canThe crowd thinned in the hallway, dropping the temperature significantly. Christopher sighed in relief. His eveningwear felt uncomfortably hot, and his sudden arousal further intensified the sweaty closeness.

“Blast,” he muttered. The last thing he wanted was to be struck by a mad attraction. On the other hand, not exploring this feeling would be much more foolish. Miss Valentino is delightful, and I want to know her. I will know her. There really is no help for it.

Miss Valentino is delightful, and I want to know her. Iknow her. There really is no help for it.