The Chance of Love (The Book of Love 7)

by Meara Platt

  “What?”

  “Josh, if you stare at Violet’s cousin any harder, you are going to burn a hole straight through her.”

  “That makes no sense. A look doesn’t burn.”

  He calmly drank his glass of champagne. “I beg to differ. A fiery look will do just that. You are lit up like a torch. What’s going on with the two of you?”

  “Nothing.”

  Ronan clapped him on the shoulder again. “Right, why don’t you tell that to Lady Miranda. She’s headed straight for us. Ah, she’s added henna to her hair again. Flame red this time.”

  “If you value your life, you won’t remark on it. Bollocks, the last thing I need is our mother’s meddling. Cut her off before she reaches me. Distract her,” he said, beating a hasty retreat to the card room.

  Robbie was seated at one of the card tables playing vingt-un with Joshua’s brothers Finn and Tynan. He waved Joshua over. “Come join us. Fill yer brothers in on what ye’ve been doing.”

  “Shut up, Robbie.” But he settled in the open chair.

  “Good evening, tadpole,” Tynan said, smirking at him. “Lady Miranda is looking for you.”

  He nodded. “I saw her coming and managed to avoid her. Why is she looking for me?”

  Tynan shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Finn chuckled. “Perhaps a mother’s sense that her baby boy needs her.”

  Tynan, Earl of Westcliff, was Joshua’s eldest brother. Finn was the next. Then him. Ronan was the youngest of the four, but they were all fairly close in age. They were also all as tall as oak trees and had the muscular build of battle-hardened warriors. There was not a baby boy among them. In truth, he was amazed their mother had managed to survive delivering four sons the size of oxen.

  Well, Lady Miranda was a force to be reckoned with in her own right. And while they all loved her dearly, she simply wasn’t the quiet, sit by the fire and knit scarves, motherly sort.

  No, indeed. They were all convinced she’d been Queen Boudica in a prior life, for no one could rampage, pillage, and burn through London as efficiently as her.

  Joshua seemed to be having luck at cards even though his concentration was not what it ought to have been. He couldn’t wait for the first dances to end to take his turn at the waltz with Holly.

  The sight of her earlier, sitting amid the gray-haired, elderly widows still made his blood boil. She’d looked beautiful seated there, her hair loosely drawn back in an elegant coil and pinned at the nape of her neck. Her gown was another of those drab confections, but on her, the pale gray silk appeared luminescent. The simplicity of the gown only served to enhance her beautiful body.

  At last, he collected his winnings and rose. “My apologies, gentlemen. Duty calls.”

  “This I have got to see,” Robbie muttered, rising with him.

  Finn and Tynan tossed aside their cards. “Who’s the lucky girl, tadpole?” Tynan asked.

  “Holly Farthingale,” Robbie said.

  Finn pounded him on the back. “When’s the wedding?”

  “There isn’t going to be one. Just because you married Belle doesn’t mean I must be next.”

  Finn ignored him and spoke to the others. “Belle knew it. She and her sister gave Holly that book. Just go with it, Josh. You don’t stand a chance.”

  “Yes, he does,” Robbie said. “Holly gave him the book.”

  Joshua let out a string of invectives. “So much for your vow of silence.”

  “What? I promised not to damage the book or mock what was written in it.” He held up his hands as Joshua started toward him. “Stop, Josh! Where’s the harm in telling your brothers? Isn’t Finn the latest Brayden to fall because of that book? And I never promised to keep quiet about your having it. But I will now. My lips are sealed. I won’t mention it again.”

  “Why did Holly give it to you?” Tynan asked, his gaze now thoughtful.

  Joshua turned to Finn. “Did Belle say anything to you about it?”

  “No, only that she and Honey were determined Holly should have it next. Why did she hand it off to you?”

  “She didn’t want it. I caught her trying to hide it. She stuffed it in my hands and told me I could read it if I wanted to. That’s what I did this afternoon.”

  “And?” Finn appeared ready to burst into laughter.

  He shrugged. “And nothing. It’s only a damn book. I read it.” He strode out of the gaming room and went in search of Holly. He’d last seen her with Lady Dayne and Lady Withnall. But she wasn’t beside them now. Bloody, bloody hell. She and her sisters were standing with Sophie Farthingale, Finn’s wife, Belle…and his mother.

  The damn woman had a nose like a bloodhound.

  He took a deep breath and strode over to them.

  His mother cast him a broad smile. “Ah, here’s my son now. But I believe you all know him, so introductions are unnecessary.”

  “Good evening, ladies.” He dutifully bussed his mother’s cheek.

  She stared at him in silence as though waiting for him to say something more. Ha! He was keeping his mouth shut. But his gaze warned his mother to keep out of his affairs. She was staring back at him, in effect telling him to go stuff it and he’d better choose one of these Farthingales to marry before her hair turned gray, which it would never do because Lady Miranda was forever forty, had barrels of henna stocked in her cellar, and no son of hers had better comment on it if he wished to live to see tomorrow’s sunrise.

  He turned to Holly. “I believe this dance is mine.”

  Holly’s cheeks turned to flame. “Is it? Are you certain?”

  Wordlessly, he held out his arm to her.

  She made no move to take it.

  Everyone was staring at them, including Lady Withnall, who had the ears of a bat, the eyes of an eagle, and the instincts of a jungle cat hunting prey. She was headed straight for their little group, the thuck, thuck, thuck of her cane causing panic in everyone she passed.

  Joshua took Holly’s hand and placed it on his arm, keeping his own hand over hers on the chance she attempted to draw it away. “Miss Dahlia. Miss Heather. I shall see you later.”

  They giggled.

  He led Holly onto the dance floor. One would think he was leading a lamb to slaughter. He sighed. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know how to waltz. It wasn’t all the rage in our quieter social circle in York. I didn’t think you were serious about claiming me for it. I haven’t danced a single dance in over five years. Please, Joshua. Don’t make me do this. Take me back to Aunt Sophie.”

  He sighed. “No, but come with me. I have another idea.”

  Her sparkling eyes widened in surprise. “What? Where are you taking me?”

  “Onto the veranda. We’ll dance there, out of everyone’s way.” He glanced at her, saw she was nibbling her lip and fretting. But her lower lip was plump and quivering in a manner he found surprisingly arousing and erotic.

  “People will talk!”

  “Let them. We’ll only be dancing. Anyone can see us from the ballroom and know this is all we are doing.”

  “Promise me that’s all we’ll be doing.”

  “What more do you think I intend to do?” He noticed her chest was lightly heaving, and her gaze was on his lips. He cast her a wickedly lazy smile. “What more would you like me to do?”

  Chapter Four

  Wretched man!

  Holly was not going to do anything with Joshua but dance. Wasn’t this bad enough? Her knees were knocking, and her entire body was shaking as he led her onto the veranda.

  “Is it too cold for you, Holly?”

  The veranda was sheltered from the cool breeze, and without the wind to cut through her bones, she was fairly comfortable. Not to mention the heat radiating off Joshua’s body had somehow found its way into her blood, causing it to bubble like a pool of lava. “No, I’m fine.”

  He looked so big and splendid in his uniform, he made her wits scatter. She was going to melt in his arms if she wasn’t careful.


  He smiled at her. “Relax. I am not about to toss you off a cliff.”

  Perhaps not, but she still felt as though she were falling. Tumbling. Reeling.

  Was it a sin to want to be held close and made to feel special tonight? This is what she’d wanted to do, wanted to feel ever since meeting Joshua.

  The butterflies in her stomach began to flutter, just as they had last night when he’d stood before her in his bronzed glory.

  Apparently, he affected her in the same dizzying way whether he wore clothes or not.

  Oh, drat.

  She had finally managed to scrub away the vision of him emerging naked from his bath, and now it had popped right back into her head.

  He cupped her chin and raised her gaze to his, still smiling as he regained her attention. “Put your hand on my shoulder.”

  “Like this?” She must have done it right because her entire body was now tingling. Oh, good gracious, his shoulder felt so good beneath her palm.

  “Perfect,” he said with a raspy softness, placing his hand on her waist to draw her closer. He took her other hand, gently clasped it in his, and held it out so that they were now in the proper stance. “When I move forward, you’ll take a step back. Just follow the flow of my body, and let my hand at your waist guide you. Shall we give it a try?”

  “Yes, I’m ready.” She stared at their feet.

  “Look up at me, Holly.”

  She dared not, but he was insistent. When she finally did, she almost swooned in response to his devastatingly tender smile. “You look beautiful by moonlight.”

  She shook her head. “That’s because you cannot see me clearly.”

  “I can see you perfectly. I think you’re the one who refuses to see who you really are.” But he gave her no time to protest before he began to lead her through the steps with unexpectedly fluid grace.

  She felt as though she were floating on a cloud.

  “That’s it, just look at me. Remember to let your body move with mine.”

  This. This is how it should have been with Walter and never was. He’d never transported her to magical heights. True, they’d never danced the waltz or ever danced after they were married. But taking this lesson with Joshua made her realize that not everything wrong in the marriage had been her fault.

  Walter had to share in the blame. They’d attended many parties after they were wed. He’d never indulged in a dance with her. Usually, he went off with one or two of his closest friends, only to appear later to escort her into supper. It was not long into their marriage before he no longer did even that.

  The realization upset her, causing her to accidentally stumble over Joshua’s booted foot. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me, Holly. You’re doing beautifully.”

  She glanced at her toes before raising her gaze to his once more. “I am?”

  He nodded. “Close your eyes if it feels easier to follow the movement of my body without looking at me.”

  She fluttered them closed.

  “It is easier,” she said with some surprise. “This is amazing. Even though I cannot see you, I can feel the subtle changes in your body. It’s as though we are connected, soaring together, our feet no longer touching the ground.” She gasped. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you mean. When you turn off one sense, that of sight, the other senses seem to take over, don’t they? Now your sense of us is heightened. You can tell by the merest touch of my hand that we’re about to turn, and now follow me as I take a step back.”

  “This is wonderful, Joshua. Thank you.” Her eyes were still closed, and she was taking in each glorious sensation. She breathed him in, loving the sandalwood scent of his skin. Tingles shot through her whenever he spoke, for his voice was deep and resonant.

  His touch burned through the silk of her gown.

  His lips were whisper-soft against her ear, and she thought she would expire on the spot when he accidentally grazed her cheek.

  Perhaps not an accident.

  Was it possible he enjoyed touching her?

  “You are most welcome, Holly.”

  Was it possible this dance was as thrilling for him as it was for her? He did not seem at all bored. Not that she could be sure, for she really knew nothing about men. But he made her feel as though his time with her was something special.

  As she became more proficient, he quickened their pace. “Look at that, you were born to dance.”

  She opened her eyes and laughed. “What rubbish. But thank you again. I’m having fun.”

  She cast him a warm smile, one he could barely see under the moon’s glow, and yet she thought she heard his breath hitch. “Finally,” he said in a husky murmur that sent more tingles shooting through her. “A genuine smile out of you.”

  Perhaps he had been able to see her, after all. He had the keen eyes of a trained soldier. In addition to moonlight, there was a little candlelight filtering out from the ballroom and some more from the lit torches lining the garden paths. But they were distant and faint.

  She was happy, and she hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. Indeed, in so long a time, she’d forgotten how to laugh.

  When the music finally came to an end, she hesitated to let him go. He felt so solid and divine. How many times had she thanked him? She’d lost count. But as he was about to release her, she thanked him again. “I cannot remember having quite so much fun ever. I hope I wasn’t too awful.”

  His eyes seemed to absorb her, seemed to draw her in, and drag her under like a dangerous whirlpool. Was he going to kiss her?

  Please, kiss me.

  She knew very well he couldn’t since they were in sight of the ballroom. They must have provided amusement for at least a dozen guests who were seated by the doors.

  “Holly.” His voice was as smooth as melted chocolate, his gaze smoldering. “I want you to close your eyes another moment.”

  She inhaled lightly. “Are you going to kiss me? You can’t while everyone is watching.”

  “I know. I’m not going to kiss you. Close your eyes.”

  “What are you going to do?” Her heart was beating so fast, she could hardly breathe. But she obeyed him, hoping he would toss caution to the wind and seek her lips.

  He ran his thumb gently across her lower lip. Then he slowly traced it along the curve of her mouth. “I know it isn’t the same as a kiss.”

  No, but it felt divine. Almost as though his mouth was on hers. She’d never been touched like this before.

  “Blessed saints, you’re so beautiful.” His whispered words sounded reverent, as though spoken in wonder. “I’m going to kiss you if we stay out here a moment longer. I had better take you inside. Save the supper dance for me.”

  She opened her eyes, not bothering to hide her surprise. “You want a second dance with me?” If he did not stop being nice to her, she was going to fall in love with him. Oh, this was a disaster. She couldn’t allow it.

  He raked a hand raggedly through his hair. “I would claim a dozen dances with you if I could,” he said with a pained laugh.

  Oh, heavens!

  This was not him speaking.

  “Oh, dear. Joshua, I know what this is. You’ve read that book, haven’t you? And now you think you’re feeling something for me. But it is only because I was the one who gave the book to you.”

  “I have read it,” he said with a nod. “Now that I have, I’m more convinced than ever you ought to read it, too.”

  She eased out of his grasp. “I won’t.”

  “Fine, keep on hiding. But you need not worry about my feelings. I have no intention of giving my heart to the wrong girl.” He led her back to her Aunt Sophie. “Until the supper dance.”

  She stared at his back as he walked away.

  And died a little inside when he claimed Dahlia for the next dance.

  Despite having waltzed in the outdoor chill, her body felt overheated. Since her aunt was busy chatting with friends, she moved away unnoti
ced and walked over to the punch bowl. She was waiting for those ahead of her to move on when someone called her name.

  She turned, and the color drained from her face. “Mr. Gleason. Mrs. Gleason. I…I hadn’t realized you were in London. When did you get in? Where are you staying?”

  “Do you often dance outdoors with uniformed soldiers?” Mrs. Gleason intoned, her disapproval obvious.

  But this is how it had always been with Walter’s parents. They’d disapproved of their son marrying her. They’d disapproved of the way she ran his household. Most hurtful of all, they’d quickly cut ties with her, asking her to leave their marital abode even before his body had turned cold in the grave. They owned the house, not Walter.

  “Captain Brayden is family. He was kind enough to teach me how to waltz. I didn’t know how since Walter never saw fit to dance with me.”

  Walter’s father frowned at her. “Ah, I see nothing has changed. Still blaming our son for your failures as a dutiful wife.”

  She tipped her chin up, trying to maintain her dignity. “Well, it has been lovely running into you again. I see my aunt is summoning me. If you will excuse me.”

  She hurried back to the safety of the Farthingale fold, still thirsty. Still aching to be held in Joshua’s arms. But her one moment of beauty had been shattered by Walter’s parents. Could they not let her forget how badly she’d failed their son?

  She felt herself about to burst into tears but had too much pride to allow anyone to see her cry. There were only a few people on the veranda. She didn’t wish to be seen by them either, but surely no one was in the garden. She could hide there while she cried.

  That’s all she needed, a quick burst of tears, and then she’d be all right again. Well, never all right. But sufficiently composed so that she could return to the party with no one the wiser. Even if someone noticed her red eyes, she could always blame it on someone’s perfume.

  She tried not to run out but merely walked with purpose onto the veranda. Several couples were out there. No one bothered to pay her any attention. The wind bit her cheeks when she walked out of the shelter of the veranda and fled down the steps to lose herself in the garden. In truth, it was cold outside.