Read Online Vienna Waltz (The Imperial Season Book 1) by Mary Lancaster - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Lancaster
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already melted into the crowd moving in the opposite direction.
Chapter Five
L izzie, on her latest foray through the ballrooms and the riding school, had found no trace of Johnnie. She did see her cousin James mooning after Madame Fischer, in the company of some men she instinctively knew to be unsavory. She even began to approach, to extricate him and warn him to stop making a cake of himself over the Viennese beauty, before she remembered she shouldn’t even be here.
Instead, she decided to leave the riding school and return to the main ballroom where she could keep her eyes on her aunt. Only where the devil was Johnnie?
Perhaps he’s been arrested over the other necklace or for something else entirely.
On this unhappy thought, she swung abruptly away from the sight of James, leading Madame Fischer towards the dance floor, and cannoned into the hard body of a military stranger in a scarlet domino cloak.
“Oh goodness,” she exclaimed, flustered by the force of their meeting. “I’m sorry!”
The officer, steadying her with a hand on either arm, said, “Don’t be. I’m not. I’ve been trying to speak to you all night.”
Something about his foreign voice sounded familiar, but though she peered up at him in the dazzling white light of the candles, the mask made him a mere stranger with black hair, steady, lazily smiling dark eyes and sculpted lips.
“Why?” she demanded, surprised by the unexpected tug of attraction. After all, she’d been gazing at masked military men for most of the evening and none of them had even momentarily distracted her from her mission.
The smile in his dark eyes intensified, spreading to his lips. “To ask you to dance, of course.”
“I don’t dance,” she said hurriedly and added the excuse she’d been using all night. “I’m looking for my aunt.” She began to slip away from the polite hands which hadn’t quite released her, but although he let one hand fall away, his other slid down her cloak-covered arm to the fingers holding the domino closed around her.
“Why not?” he countered. “Why come to a ball not to dance?” When she opened her mouth to reply, he said it for her with quiet humor, “To look for your aunt. I know. Dance with me and I’ll restore you to your aunt immediately.”
It was, she knew, time to pull away into the crowd, forcefully if necessary, particularly since the orchestra had struck up a waltz. But as his fingers drew hers into his hand, his arm was already circling her waist.
There was nothing rough or coercive about it. She could still have got free quite easily and left him standing there looking just a little foolish. In fact, she tried to tell herself that was the reason she gave in, but in truth, something about his familiarity, about his voice and his person, all made her want to dance with him. He was a tall stranger in a mask, a foreign officer with his own life story far removed from her own, and he intrigued her.
And then the music, melodic, rhythmic and insistent, inspired her to recklessness. Or it might have been the novelty of the stranger’s embrace. She’d only ever waltzed with Michael and her sisters; it was much too fast a dance for a country neighborhood.
“I’ve never waltzed in public before,” she said bluntly. “I’ll stand all over your feet.”
“No you won’t,” he said with certainty, spinning her onto the dance floor.
She gasped, more with fun than fear. His head lowered slightly. “The mysterious Mademoiselle Noire should not watch her feet as she waltzes.”
“Gauche?” Lizzie suggested ruefully.
His eyes lit with laughter. “Sadly. And then you don’t really want to draw attention to your outdoor shoes.”
“Oh dear. You have found me out.” She squared her shoulders and confessed, “I wasn’t invited.”
“You’re in good company,” he excused.
“You, too?”
“Sadly, I was bidden.”
“Why sadly?”
“Your way is more adventurous,” the stranger pointed
Chapter Five
L izzie, on her latest foray through the ballrooms and the riding school, had found no trace of Johnnie. She did see her cousin James mooning after Madame Fischer, in the company of some men she instinctively knew to be unsavory. She even began to approach, to extricate him and warn him to stop making a cake of himself over the Viennese beauty, before she remembered she shouldn’t even be here.
Instead, she decided to leave the riding school and return to the main ballroom where she could keep her eyes on her aunt. Only where the devil was Johnnie?
Perhaps he’s been arrested over the other necklace or for something else entirely.
On this unhappy thought, she swung abruptly away from the sight of James, leading Madame Fischer towards the dance floor, and cannoned into the hard body of a military stranger in a scarlet domino cloak.
“Oh goodness,” she exclaimed, flustered by the force of their meeting. “I’m sorry!”
The officer, steadying her with a hand on either arm, said, “Don’t be. I’m not. I’ve been trying to speak to you all night.”
Something about his foreign voice sounded familiar, but though she peered up at him in the dazzling white light of the candles, the mask made him a mere stranger with black hair, steady, lazily smiling dark eyes and sculpted lips.
“Why?” she demanded, surprised by the unexpected tug of attraction. After all, she’d been gazing at masked military men for most of the evening and none of them had even momentarily distracted her from her mission.
The smile in his dark eyes intensified, spreading to his lips. “To ask you to dance, of course.”
“I don’t dance,” she said hurriedly and added the excuse she’d been using all night. “I’m looking for my aunt.” She began to slip away from the polite hands which hadn’t quite released her, but although he let one hand fall away, his other slid down her cloak-covered arm to the fingers holding the domino closed around her.
“Why not?” he countered. “Why come to a ball not to dance?” When she opened her mouth to reply, he said it for her with quiet humor, “To look for your aunt. I know. Dance with me and I’ll restore you to your aunt immediately.”
It was, she knew, time to pull away into the crowd, forcefully if necessary, particularly since the orchestra had struck up a waltz. But as his fingers drew hers into his hand, his arm was already circling her waist.
There was nothing rough or coercive about it. She could still have got free quite easily and left him standing there looking just a little foolish. In fact, she tried to tell herself that was the reason she gave in, but in truth, something about his familiarity, about his voice and his person, all made her want to dance with him. He was a tall stranger in a mask, a foreign officer with his own life story far removed from her own, and he intrigued her.
And then the music, melodic, rhythmic and insistent, inspired her to recklessness. Or it might have been the novelty of the stranger’s embrace. She’d only ever waltzed with Michael and her sisters; it was much too fast a dance for a country neighborhood.
“I’ve never waltzed in public before,” she said bluntly. “I’ll stand all over your feet.”
“No you won’t,” he said with certainty, spinning her onto the dance floor.
She gasped, more with fun than fear. His head lowered slightly. “The mysterious Mademoiselle Noire should not watch her feet as she waltzes.”
“Gauche?” Lizzie suggested ruefully.
His eyes lit with laughter. “Sadly. And then you don’t really want to draw attention to your outdoor shoes.”
“Oh dear. You have found me out.” She squared her shoulders and confessed, “I wasn’t invited.”
“You’re in good company,” he excused.
“You, too?”
“Sadly, I was bidden.”
“Why sadly?”
“Your way is more adventurous,” the stranger pointed
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