Scandal's Reward by Jean R. Ewing

the contrary, Miss Hunter, you alone have every right. If nothing else, I owe you something for your brave warning on Eagle Beacon when we first met. It was my behavior which stands very little scrutiny on that occasion. And in the grotto, I caused you an unwarranted ducking. I can hardly apologize for kissing you, because I cannot find it in my black heart to regret it. But I have abused your trust, and put you in an untenable situation with your employer. Though you have twice caught me in the house, you have not betrayed me. Surely you can agree that it is I who am in your debt.”
    He was moving aside some of the small pieces of furniture which cluttered the room, until there was a clear space of polished boards beside the piano. The distant band had struck up the strains of a waltz. Dagonet came back to her and with a disarming smile, swept her an elegant bow.
    “And now,” he said with a flourish, “may I have the honor of this dance?”
    “How can you be so absurd, sir?”
    “You don’t like dancing?”
    “That’s not the point.”
    “Then it is my dissolute self? Can you not forgive me? Miss Hunter, you break my heart. Now I do regret everything. You are afraid of me?”
    She was laughing. “Of course not!”
    “Good, for though I may be practiced in the art of seduction and abandonment, you are quite safe. I have the greatest respect for your father, and even I am unfortunately too much the gentleman to kiss you again in the drawing room. So you have no excuse. We may be outcasts from the revelries, but there is no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy the music.”
    He took her hand and swept her into his embrace. Instantly they whirled into the steps of the waltz. As she might have expected, he was a perfect partner. His hold at her waist was no more than courteous. Her hand lay lightly in his. Catherine relaxed and allowed herself to follow his lead, her plain skirts eddying behind her. She had never felt so graceful or light before. Around and around they spun together in a delicious partnership of joy. She was floating on the wind. The waltz had never flowed like this with any of the bumbling young men of her father’s parish. At last the music died away, and Dagonet released her and bowed. The spell was broken. The next measure was a lively country dance.
    “Alas,” he cried. “We need at least four others to make up the figure.”
    Within moments, he had placed the piano stool, the fire screen, an occasional table, and a large vase in the appropriate spots to represent the missing dancers. He swept her another gallant bow, and Catherine, thoroughly caught up in his mood, collapsed into helpless giggles.
    “Do not give way, dear Kate, to unseemly emotion! The country dance is that most sensitive of occasions, where the parties stepping past each other in stately dignity, yet may exchange the speaking look, the longing glance. Hearts have been won and lost in the country dance, and many a young lady’s future happiness destroyed, because the measure did not bring her a chance to throw an arch look at the gentleman of her fancy.”
    “Though the men, of course, have planned their siege of the most eligible heiress like a military campaign. They jostle for the honor of some notice from her limpid eyes or a soft wave of her fan. The winner has his name on her card for the dance. He gets the curtsy at the beginning of the measure, yet then must see her handed down through the ranks of the losers. All his effort doesn’t win him much.”
    “If she will but look at him under her eyelashes, all is forgiven and forgotten.”
    He began to weave between the side tables and the firescreen in a perfect satire of the most pompous members of the parish. The dreadful Mr. Crucible came instantly to mind. Helpless with laughter, Catherine joined in. Their dance became a pantomime, yet it was one performed with grace and wit, and to her immense surprise, the most innocent joy. She followed his movements, playing her