disillusion you and make you believe you had crossed from good to evil?”
His spine went rigid. “I didn’t ‘believe’ it. It’s a fact. And I do not deserve forgiveness.”
She shook her head. “That’s not an answer.”
“You won’t get an answer.”
“Then you owe me a boon.”
His muscles tightened. Famous. He could either divulge his darkest regret or open himself up to making new ones. “The boon can’t be lovemaking, or forcing me to answer a question I already refused to answer.”
She leaned back in her chair. “You don’t get to decide the boon or the question. You simply answer, or not.”
His heartbeat sped in frustration. He rubbed his temples. “What’s your boon, Miss Downing?”
She met his eyes. “Jane.”
He blinked. “What?”
“My name is Jane. Now that we’re friends, I ask for leave to call you Xavier.”
His stomach fluttered. “First-naming each other is your boon?”
She smiled back at him sweetly. “If that’s too intimate, we can always try the lovemaking instead.”
“My turn to ask a question,” he said quickly. She was incorrigible. He couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Jane.”
Her cheeks flushed becomingly.
He angled toward her. “You explained how you got here. Why did you do it? You’re intelligent enough to realize illicit affairs aren’t romantic. They’re illicit, and then they’re over.”
She exhaled slowly. “Perhaps for you, liaisons are illicit and then they’re over. I don’t have affairs at all.”
Xavier doubted that was for lack of interest. Jane was exquisite to look at and only became more beautiful whenever she opened her mouth and spoke.
Her thumb teased her lower lip. “I’m not a wallflower because it’s diverting. I’m a wallflower because nobody notices me. I slip through their minds before I can finish reminding them of my name.” She wrapped her arms about her chest. “I try to make it a game, to say or do things impossible to ignore. But even at my most outrageous, I never earn a second glance.”
Impossible. He would never be able to put her out of his mind.
She looked away. “In truth, I hate society events. I’m invisible in every crowd. It’s torture. I can barely sit through an orchestra performance despite my love of violins above all instruments, because every such outing is wrapped inside an hour or three of ignominy. And no one will notice but me. Almack’s is even worse.”
He pushed to his feet. “Get up.”
“What?” She blinked up at him in confusion.
He held out his hand. “Come here.”
She placed her hand tentatively in his. “Why?”
“We’re dancing.” He coaxed her up from her chair.
She glanced over her shoulder at the dimly lit parlor. “Right here?”
“Right. Here.” And he pulled her into his arms.
Chapter Twelve
Jane couldn’t breathe.
She’d lost all control of her lungs—and her wobbly legs—the moment Captain Grey pulled her to him. The moment Xavier welcomed her into his embrace.
He wanted to dance. How could they dance? There was no music. She couldn’t even feel her knees. Not with her hand in his and his other arm about her waist, holding her close. She closed her eyes. He smelled of sandalwood and citrus. Everything about him was rock hard and hot to the touch.
“Know any danceable melodies?” he murmured into her ear.
She shook her head, disappointed. Their dance was over before it began. “I’m afraid my savant abilities are limited to literature.”
To her surprise, he began to hum and guided her in time with the rhythm.
She tilted her head to the side and followed his lead. Why was the song so familiar? She was certain she’d heard the melody before. From a violin, perhaps. It almost sounded like… Her breath caught as she recognized the tune.
“It’s from Antigona .” She gazed up at him shyly. “The opera we saw together.”
He smiled. “I wanted to dance with you then, too.”
Her throat dried. Could it be true?
His spine went rigid. “I didn’t ‘believe’ it. It’s a fact. And I do not deserve forgiveness.”
She shook her head. “That’s not an answer.”
“You won’t get an answer.”
“Then you owe me a boon.”
His muscles tightened. Famous. He could either divulge his darkest regret or open himself up to making new ones. “The boon can’t be lovemaking, or forcing me to answer a question I already refused to answer.”
She leaned back in her chair. “You don’t get to decide the boon or the question. You simply answer, or not.”
His heartbeat sped in frustration. He rubbed his temples. “What’s your boon, Miss Downing?”
She met his eyes. “Jane.”
He blinked. “What?”
“My name is Jane. Now that we’re friends, I ask for leave to call you Xavier.”
His stomach fluttered. “First-naming each other is your boon?”
She smiled back at him sweetly. “If that’s too intimate, we can always try the lovemaking instead.”
“My turn to ask a question,” he said quickly. She was incorrigible. He couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Jane.”
Her cheeks flushed becomingly.
He angled toward her. “You explained how you got here. Why did you do it? You’re intelligent enough to realize illicit affairs aren’t romantic. They’re illicit, and then they’re over.”
She exhaled slowly. “Perhaps for you, liaisons are illicit and then they’re over. I don’t have affairs at all.”
Xavier doubted that was for lack of interest. Jane was exquisite to look at and only became more beautiful whenever she opened her mouth and spoke.
Her thumb teased her lower lip. “I’m not a wallflower because it’s diverting. I’m a wallflower because nobody notices me. I slip through their minds before I can finish reminding them of my name.” She wrapped her arms about her chest. “I try to make it a game, to say or do things impossible to ignore. But even at my most outrageous, I never earn a second glance.”
Impossible. He would never be able to put her out of his mind.
She looked away. “In truth, I hate society events. I’m invisible in every crowd. It’s torture. I can barely sit through an orchestra performance despite my love of violins above all instruments, because every such outing is wrapped inside an hour or three of ignominy. And no one will notice but me. Almack’s is even worse.”
He pushed to his feet. “Get up.”
“What?” She blinked up at him in confusion.
He held out his hand. “Come here.”
She placed her hand tentatively in his. “Why?”
“We’re dancing.” He coaxed her up from her chair.
She glanced over her shoulder at the dimly lit parlor. “Right here?”
“Right. Here.” And he pulled her into his arms.
Chapter Twelve
Jane couldn’t breathe.
She’d lost all control of her lungs—and her wobbly legs—the moment Captain Grey pulled her to him. The moment Xavier welcomed her into his embrace.
He wanted to dance. How could they dance? There was no music. She couldn’t even feel her knees. Not with her hand in his and his other arm about her waist, holding her close. She closed her eyes. He smelled of sandalwood and citrus. Everything about him was rock hard and hot to the touch.
“Know any danceable melodies?” he murmured into her ear.
She shook her head, disappointed. Their dance was over before it began. “I’m afraid my savant abilities are limited to literature.”
To her surprise, he began to hum and guided her in time with the rhythm.
She tilted her head to the side and followed his lead. Why was the song so familiar? She was certain she’d heard the melody before. From a violin, perhaps. It almost sounded like… Her breath caught as she recognized the tune.
“It’s from Antigona .” She gazed up at him shyly. “The opera we saw together.”
He smiled. “I wanted to dance with you then, too.”
Her throat dried. Could it be true?
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