The Apothecary's Daughter Part 46

She stared at him, mesmerized by his unusual eyes. One a shade darker than the other. Or was one green and the other brown?

"Miss Haswell?"

"Oh! " She started. "Forgive me."

He leaned down. "Here, now you may examine me more closely."

For a moment, she did just that. Studied his eyes, his dark lashes and brows. His prominent cheekbones and pinp.r.i.c.ks of black whiskers beneath fair skin.

"Anything amiss?" he asked. "A sty, perhaps?"

She shook her head, still regarding him, his thin lips and sharp nose, the nostrils which seemed to flare at her close inspection.

When she returned her gaze to his eyes, she saw that they gleamed with suppressed laughter. "Have I need of an apothecary, or might a kiss suffice?"

She bit her lip. "I cannot give you leave to kiss me."

He sighed dramatically. "Which is why I never ask first."

She squared her shoulders. "But perhaps I might kiss your cheek, Mr. Marlow. For saving my brother."

His brows rose. "A grat.i.tude kiss? Not my favorite sort."

Feeling foolish, she began to turn away. "Never mind, then."

He gently turned her back to face him. "No. Please never mind me. I dearly long for a grat.i.tude kiss from you, Miss Haswell."

She realized he was likely mocking her, but her thankfulness overwhelmed every other emotion.

He bent low again, face near. She would not have reached him otherwise. His hands, she surmised, were now safely behind his back. Safe enough, she hoped.

She leaned forward slowly, aiming for his cheek. He s.h.i.+fted and she kissed his lips instead. Their lips touched for a lingering moment. One heartbeat, then two. When she pulled away, the laughter had altogether gone from his eyes.

The fas.h.i.+on hails from countesses to queens,

And maids and valets waltz behind the scenesa.

LORD BYRON.

CHAPTER 41.

n the coffeehouse dining room, Lilly helped Mary with the heavy task of pus.h.i.+ng all the tables to one side and stacking chairs, preparing to mop the entire floor. Surveying the open s.p.a.ce, Lilly dramatically stood her mop straight, head up, and curtsied before it.

"I would be delighted to dance with you, sir," she said. With a bend of her elbow, the mop-haired "gentleman" tilted toward her in a bow. Grasping her stick-thin partner with both hands, Lilly performed a spinning dance around the cleared room.

Leaning on a second mop, Mary grinned and shook her head. "You can take the lady out of London a" She let the words trail away. She studied Lilly's whirling steps. "I have not seen that dance before."

"It is the dreaded turning waltz."

"No," gasped Mary in feigned shock. "Not the scandalous dance condemned by all the papers."

Lilly halted and propped her mop against the wall. "The very same. Might I tempt you into learning it?"

"Never," Mary said coyly. "I am far too proper for such wickedness.

Lilly raised an eyebrow. "The Mary Mimpurse who spied the cricket team swimming in the Owens' pond? I think not."

Tugging the mop from Mary's hand and standing it beside her own, Lilly grasped Mary about her waist and pulled and spun her around the room, until they nearly collided with the stacked chairs.

"Please, Lill, stop," Mary gasped. "I am dizzy!"

Lilly halted abruptly, still holding on to Mary as her friend regained her balance and breath. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.

Breathing hard, Mary said, "I am not having a fit, if that is what you mean. Unless you mean a fit of the vapors."

a.s.sured her friend was all right, Lilly released her.

"That dance will not be performed at Wilcot, I a.s.sure you," Mary said, refastening a hairpin that had come loose whilst spinning.

"Even so, how I look forward to the country dance." Lilly retrieved her mop and dipped it into the bucket near the hearth. She slanted a glance at Mary. "And I know a certain surgeon-apothecary who looks forward to dancing with you."

Mary bit back a smile of pleasure. "I own a certain gleeful antic.i.p.ation of that myself."

After the trying days of Charlie's imprisonment, they were all looking forward to Wilcot's end-of-summer fete, which was to include both a fair and a dance. She and Mary planned to attend with Charlie, Dr. Graves, and Mr. Shuttleworth. No doubt Francis and Dorothea Robbins would attend as well.

But on Sat.u.r.day, her father awoke with a fever, and Lilly felt obliged to stay with him.

"Then I shall stay as well," Mary said, though her countenance was decidedly downcast.

"And leave all those fine partners to Miss Robbins alone? I think not. You know Mr. Shuttleworth and Charlie will be exceedingly disappointed if you do not attend."

Mary grinned. "They would, would not they?"

"Of course. Now go and be danced off your feet, my lovely, as you well deserve."

Mary's eyes sparked with mischief. "I shall benefit from your absence in that regard, shan't I?"

"Oh!" Lilly winked. "I can see how much I shall be missed!"

That afternoon, Dr. Graves called on her father, prescribed fever powder, fluids, and bed rest. He was disappointed to learn she would not be attending the Wilcot fair. "I would not go either," he said sheepishly. "But Dr. Foster requests it. Says I should make the acquaintance of as many potential patients as possible. But I shall not dance, Miss Haswell you may depend upon it."

"I do not wish to depend upon it! I hope you will dance, especially should gentlemen be scarce and ladies be in want of a partner."

She thought of her own first dance with Dr. Graves and hoped no lady would have to endure such a reluctant performance.

He said quietly, "I did not come all this way to dance with other ladies, Miss Haswell."

She smiled shyly up at him. "Just don't enjoy it overly much and I shall be satisfied."

He grinned. "When have I ever?"

Lilly looked up from her book to the sitting room clock once more. Two hours had slowly pa.s.sed. It felt like more. Her father was sleeping peacefully and the novel was not engaging. Perhaps she should just give it up and go to bed.

An unexpected knock sounded on the sitting room door. Before she could react, Francis stepped in, looking masculine and handsome in his dark coat and trousers, hat in hand.

She rose. "Francis. What are you doing here?"

"I could not enjoy myself, knowing you were not."

She was pleased and anxious at once. "You needn't have come. There is no use in the both of us missing out."

"I don't mind."

"But Miss Robbins mentioned you were quite the accomplished dancer."

"Mr. Shuttleworth has taught me a few things, I own." His eyes gleamed. "Now, there's a sight not to be missed. Mr. Shuttleworth in purple coat and gold waistcoat, prancing the fancy steps of a cotillion."

She chuckled. "I can well imagine. But I should have liked to see you dance as well. No doubt Miss Robbins was counting on you as a partner."

He shrugged easily. "She was dancing with Mr. Marlow when I left, Mr. Shuttleworth awaiting the next."

She wondered if he was disappointed. Was that why he had returned?

He said kindly, "You have had little entertainment since returning, Miss Haswell, and far too much work. I am sorry you had to miss it. I hope your father is better."

"Yes, the fever has broken. He is resting comfortably."

"Good. Good."

They stood awkwardly for a few moments, until Francis said, "Mary told me about the dance lesson you gave her. That I was sorry to miss."

Lilly screwed up her face. "I would never have done so with an audience."

He smiled, a warm glint in his chocolate-brown eyes. "As you said, there is no point in both of us missing the evening's entertainment. We might have a dance here."

"Here?" She looked skeptically around the small room.

"Why not? We could try that turning waltz Mary described. Though I am surprised your aunt and uncle allowed such a scandalous dance."

Her cheeks heated. "There is really nothing scandalous in the side-by-side position, only in the closed."

He took a step nearer. "And what is the 'closed' position?"

She knew she ought to refuse and back away but felt oddly drawn to him, touched that he would return, surprised to find she wanted to touch him.

She tentatively reached out. "I would place my hands herea." She lightly gripped his upper arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath his coat sleeves.

He looked into her eyes and asked in a low voice, "And where do I place mine? "

She drew in a long shallow breath, nerves tingling, throat tight. "On my a waist." She was relieved her hands were not in his, for he would no doubt have felt how damp they were.

His large hands pressed warmly around her waist, though his eyes never left her face. She had difficulty holding his gaze at such close proximity. "Then you would step forward, and I back."

He stepped forward as directed, but his hands held her fast, keeping her from stepping back, keeping her close to him. His jaw tensed, his brown eyes sparked with longing.

She looked away, focusing on her hand on his arm. "Partners must keep a proper distance apart," she said, parroting the admonition of the Viennese dancing master. "Bodies must not actually touch."

"Pity," Francis breathed, his sweet breath warm on her temple, her ear. He leaned close, his face dipped toward hers, but still she averted her gaze. She did not want this, did she? This was Francis what was she doing? She knew she had but to look up and he would kiss her. Her heart pounded at the thought.

"Lilly," he urged hoa.r.s.ely. "Tell me it is not too late for us. That you and Graves are not-"

The door opened behind them, and Lilly pulled away.

Dr. Graves stood there, hand on the door latch, expression startled, bearing rigid. "I came to see how you and your father were faring, but I see I am interrupting." Eyes dull, he backed from the room.

"No, Dr. Graves, please come in! I was merely demonstrating the waltz to Mr. Baylor."

He stared at her, flicked a glance at Francis, then returned cool eyes to her. "Do you think that wise, Miss Haswell?"