Dancing at Midnight by Julia Quinn Read Free Book Online

to the thought. What on earth was this chit thinking? You only
    pushed a man so far. Still, he couldn't deny
    that her words had a ring of truth. He did rather like her. So, trying
    to steer the conversation out of dangerous waters, he said deliberately,
    "You are correct. I am not very good at making polite conversation."

    Belle took the hint. She smiled prettily and said, "I wouldn't worry
    overmuch. I still have hope for you."

    "Imagine my relief."

    "That hope is dwindling by the second," she said between clenched teeth.

    John looked over at her as he chewed a bite of scone. Somehow she
    managed to look sweet and desirable at the same time.
    God help him, she was already breaking through the protective wall he
    had erected around himself years ago. She certainly
    didn't deserve the kind of treatment he'd been dishing out. He swallowed
    his food, slowly and deliberately wiped his mouth
    with a napkin, stood up, and took her hand.

    "Will you allow me to start over this morning?" he said elegantly,
    raising her hand to his lips. "I fear I arose on the wrong
    side of the bed."

    Belle's heart did a little flip at the feel of his lips brushing along
    her knuckles. "It is I who should apologize. I'm afraid that
    any side of the bed would have been the wrong one at this hour."

    John smiled at that and sat back down, reaching for another scone.
    "These are delicious," he commented.

    "Our cook's mother was from Scotland."

    "Our cook?" John questioned her choice of words. "Have you become a
    permanent part of the household, then?"

    "No, I shall be heading back to London when my parents return from
    Italy. But I must admit that Westonbirt is starting
    to feel like home."

    John nodded and then held up his half-eaten scone. "Ever been to Scotland?"

    "No. Have you?"

    "No."

    There was a moment of silence and then John said, "How am I doing?"

    "How are you doing at what?" Belle asked with a perplexed expression.

    "Making polite conversation. I've been trying very, very hard for the
    last few minutes." He flashed her a boyish smile.

    Belle couldn't keep down the gurgling laugh which welled up in her
    throat. "Oh, you're making /great /strides!"

    "I shall be ready for a London season in no time." He popped the last
    bit of scone in his mouth.

    Belle leaned forward excitedly. "Are you planning to come to town for
    the season, then?" The thought thrilled her. She was starting to get
    bored with the social whirl, and John would certainly liven things up.
    Besides, she found the idea of dancing in
    his arms strangely erotic. An electric tingle traveled up her spine just
    at the thought of being so close to him, and she blushed.

    John noticed the color in her cheeks and was wildly curious as to what
    scandalous thought could make her blush after she'd brazenly come to his
    home at nine in the morning. He had no desire to embarrass her by
    asking, however, and so he merely
    said, "No. I haven't the blunt."

    Belle sat back, surprised at his forthrightness. "Well, that's no
    matter," she tried to joke. "Half the /ton /hasn't the blunt. Most
    simply manage to get invited to parties every evening and thus never
    have to pay for their own food."

    "I've never been one for parties every evening."

    "No, I didn't think you were. Neither am I, as it happens."

    "Really? I would have thought you'd be the belle of the ball, if you
    pardon the pun."

    Belle smiled wryly. "I won't be falsely modest and say that I haven't
    enjoyed a measure of social success—"

    John chuckled at her careful choice of words.

    "But I must admit, I'm growing weary of the season."

    "Is that so?"

    "Yes. But I suppose I'll have to go back next year."

    "Why go if you find it so dull?"

    She grimaced. "One's got to get a husband, after all."

    "Ah," was all John said.

    "It isn't as easy as you might think."

    "I cannot imagine finding a husband would be especially difficult for
    /you, /Lady Arabella. You must know that you are
    extremely beautiful."

    Belle