Chapter 21

twenty-one

A NGELINE COULDN'T BELIEVE she'd fallen asleep again.

Surely, lovers had some kind of etiquette, and falling asleep right after the act had to be frowned upon. Royston had done everything to pleasure her and take care of her, and the moment she'd found her release, she'd collapsed and slept.

She rubbed her eyes and huffed. "Bother."

He was putting on his shirt but turned towards her with a smile. "Hello, beautiful."

"I'm really sorry," she whispered, shifting in the bed because she was a little sore.

"About what?" He crawled over the bed to lie next to her.

"I fell asleep again. I'm sure lovemaking has some rules of etiquette I keep breaking."

He barked out a laugh, full and charming. "I like holding you when you sleep although…" He rummaged through the pocket of his trousers. "You fell asleep, but I… I wanted to give you this."

He handed her a small velvet box with the golden G of Garrad's Jewellery.

She hitched a breath, propping herself up on her elbows. "Royston."

He opened it, revealing a lovely ring with a blue stone. "It's a topaz. Its meaning is about happiness, love, and family. No, it's not family but something else. I don't remember what now. I'm too agitated. But I'm sure about the love and joy. If you prefer a diamond, I'll buy you one. But the topaz has such a pretty colour?—"

She shut him up with a kiss. "It's perfect." She gave him her hand, and he grinned as he slipped the ring on her finger, his chest expanding.

He punched the air. "It's official. We're engaged."

The kiss they shared was different from the others. It was slow and sweet. No more battles or struggles to dominate. No more feverish passion.

They kissed with tenderness and the hope of sharing a long, happy life. She moved her hand up his firm thigh to the falls of his trousers. From the moment she'd touched him, she wanted to touch him again and hear that low growl he made deep in his throat. The need to touch him was a combination of curiosity and need.

He sucked in a breath and stopped her hand. "It's not a good idea."

"I won't do anything. Just a caress."

"A caress is already too much." He flashed a boyish smile. "It's late. I have to escort my bride-to-be home."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm already home."

He beamed so widely, even his eyes brightened. "That's the most beautiful thing you could ever tell me."

She caressed his cheek. "Are you ready to dance at the next ball?"

He kissed her inner wrist. "I guess we aren't going to dance a tango."

"Unfortunately. But Royston…" She waited for him to stare at her. "Whatever is going to happen, I'll be by your side. You aren't alone now. You have a family."

His new smile was less bright but more intense.

He kissed her hand. "Then I'm ready."

The customary twenty-eight balls of the Season were nearly at their end. Thank bloody goodness.

Usually, there were more than that, but twenty-eight was the standard number. Royston was glad the torture of the balls and social events would soon change into more sombre and less dancing gatherings.

He'd been so busy he hadn't had the time to plan a proper engagement party for Angeline. He absolutely didn't want to give the announcement at someone else's house as a passing moment of entertainment. She deserved a night for her only.

Also, her mother hadn't given them her blessing, which posed no small problem. Not that Angeline couldn't get married without her mother's blessing, but he didn't want to start his new life with Angeline with tension in the family.

But no matter. The bloody dancing challenge came first. Getting a seat would also be his score to settle with Havisham.

So here he was, dressed in his best evening suit; his valet had spent a week, choosing the outfit and putting it together. Oddly enough, the shirt, waistcoat, and trousers had been just fine when he'd left the house. Smooth, fresh, and soft. Plenty of space to move. Now that he stood at the edge of the ballroom in Lord Redvers's house, his clothes had turned into instruments of torture, chafing, restricting, and tightening.

He fiddled with his tie to give more room for his throat to work.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.

Angeline stood next to him. "I'm looking forward to showing everyone how the baron who never dances has become a great dancing partner."

"I don't share your enthusiasm."

Lord Redvers walked over to them, his face tense as if he were the one who had to dance. "Are you ready, Wharton?"

"More or less. Yes. As ready as I can ever be."

"They're all here," Lord Redvers said.

Yes, Royston could see that. From Mr. North, Miss Taylor, Mr. Wright to Havisham and the other ladies and gentlemen who had attended the ball where he had fled., They were all there. And last but not least, Mrs. Haywood; she shot him daggers with her gaze whenever he glanced at her.

The last thing he needed was to have an argument with her before the dancing started. He'd stay out of her reach for as long as possible.

"I don't mean to worsen the situation," Lord Redvers said, "but North started a round of bets on you. He thinks you aren't going to finish the dance."

Which is likely .

"Very unlikely," Angeline said, seemingly reading his mind. "Lord Wharton will show everyone how elegant and skilled he is."

"Let's not exaggerate." Royston scrubbed the back of his neck.

Murmurs spread when the master of ceremonies announced the dances would start soon. Young couples drifted towards the centre of the room. Sideways and curious glances were thrown in his direction.

"Good luck, Wharton." Lord Redvers gave him a paternal pat on the shoulder.

He was so nervous he couldn't say anything.

"Let's go." Angeline tugged at his hand. "Don't be too anxious. I know you can do it."

He followed her, dragging his feet onwards. The deep breaths he kept taking didn't seem to help, and he became dizzy while the lights were too bright.

"Look at me," Angeline said. "Focus on me only."

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Ouch!" She wriggled her fingers. "You're crushing my hand."

"Sorry. I'm nervous."

When he and Angeline found their spot among the other couples, following the social ranks, a combination of mutters and whispers swept the room. Some shook their heads. Others nodded their approval. A few smiled, either in encouragement or mockery. Then the music started.

"Royston," Angeline whispered. "You recognise the type of dance, don't you?"

"F-flat major."

She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't understand a word you said. I mean that this is a polonaise. It starts with a sweeping step, then we form a circle with the other couples. We'll head right while the others… just follow me."

"Yes."

"Let's begin."

"Yes. Don't leave my hand."

She gave him a warm smile. "I have no intention to."

The music of the Polish dance began; it was lively and strong, masterfully played by the orchestra, but a buzzing noise rang in his ears, threatening to drown out the music.

He needed to focus on Angeline's smiling face because Mrs. Haywood and Lady Redvers looked like they wanted to murder him with their fans.

"To the left," Angeline said, guiding him. In fact, she was leading because he might have improved, but he wasn't ready to lead. "Right and backwards."

He stared at her, and slowly his muscles loosened a bit. When the dance reached its climax and the couples at the front of the line formed the circle, he and Angeline kept performing the sweeping steps, and he caught himself having fun.

Maybe fun was the wrong word. If he kept his dark memories down, and ignored his crazy heartbeat, he could enjoy Angeline's sweet smile and soft hands.

"We're nearly finished the first round," she said. "We'll make another one. You're doing great."

"I love you, Angeline," he said for no particular reason other than it was true. "I'm looking forward to being your husband, and I hope I'll make you as happy as you make me. You're like the light of a clear dawn after a long winter night. With you, my new days have started."

"Royston—" She tripped.

He caught her by the waist, but they missed a beat, and now they weren't following the music.

"Sorry," they said together before laughing.

She beamed so widely her eyes brightened the whole room. "We need to hurry."

They sped up to catch up with the couple in front of them. From the crowd, Lord Redvers gave him an encouraging nod.

"I love you, too," she said. "I want to marry you because I love you, not because having a family has always been my dream, although I know I'll realise my dream with you and we'll be happy."

He nearly tripped, too. She did her best to hold him up, but the result was that they skipped another beat and were far behind the music again.

They had to nearly run to close the gap with the couple in front. Not the best performance. Still, better than no performance at all.

Angeline and Royston stared at each other as they had to speed up again, and something absurd happened. They burst out laughing at the same time. She laughed so hard she nearly hiccupped.

The weight oppressing his chest lifted, leaving him finally free from the ghosts. His mind got free from the shackles of the past, and he could finally breathe and dance without choking on his memories.

When the polonaise finished, a few people clapped. He'd danced. Danced! The woman he loved was next to him. Life was wonderful.

Angeline leant closer, clapping with the other couples at the end of the dance. "Now Lord Redvers will become your champion."

He'd nearly forgotten about Lord Redvers's promise. He clapped at the orchestra and smiled.

The viscount walked towards them with long strides, a wide smile on his face. "Lord Wharton." Lord Redvers shook Royston's hand vigorously. "Congratulations. You've found your champion."