And she was a part of it all.

Ah, she was a part of it all.

She would perhaps have felt some disappointment when the set came to an end except that Mr. Raycroft had already asked her before it began if she would dance the second with him. And the earl claimed the third set.

By the end of that she was feeling flushed and warm and breathless-and wanted the evening never to end. Mr. Finn approached and asked for the fourth set, but when he came she was seated beside Miss Honeydew, who was fanning herself and looking rather faint and admitted when Susanna asked that she had not eaten anything since luncheon. Susanna thanked Mr. Finn and asked if he would excuse her and then took Miss Honeydew into the refreshment room, fetched her a cup of tea and a plate of food, and sat with her while she ate, her foot tapping out the rhythm of the dance music coming from the other room.

But she did not mind missing the dance. Mr. Crossley had already asked for the next, and the one after that was to be the waltz.

Viscount Whitleaf was looking extremely handsome tonight in a brown tailed evening coat with ivory satin breeches, a dull gold embroidered waistcoat, and white, crisp linen. He was also, Susanna had noticed, a graceful dancer and one who looked as if he were enjoying himself. Whenever she glanced at him, he was smiling, his eyes on his partner. His partners, of course, were ecstatic.

Mr. Crossley led Susanna toward Mrs. Raycroft at the end of the next set and stood conversing with them there while Viscount Whitleaf and Frances, who had been dancing together, approached across the floor. Susanna fanned her hot cheeks and watched him come. How very much she liked him.

“Goodness,” Frances said, “that was a vigorous dance. I am quite robbed of breath. Thank you, Lord Whitleaf.”

“Ma’am?” He bowed. “It was entirely my pleasure.”

“But I simply must recover my breath quickly,” she said. “The waltz is next and I have been looking forward to it for longer than a week. So has Lucius.”

The Earl of Edgecombe was striding across the floor toward them, his eyes on Frances.

Viscount Whitleaf made Susanna a slight bow.

“This is my dance, Miss Osbourne, I believe,” he said.

“It is, my lord.” She curtsied and discovered that the evening really could turn brighter and even more exciting.

“ Do you waltz, Miss Osbourne?” Mr. Crossley asked her, sounding surprised and even perhaps a little disapproving.

“I know the steps, sir,” she said. “I learned them at school-from a dancing master who is a stickler for doing all things correctly.”

“He is indeed,” Frances agreed.

“I have even given permission for Rosamond to waltz with Mr. Moss,” Mrs. Raycroft said, “since both my son and Viscount Whitleaf have assured me that it is danced at Almack’s. And if you are to waltz, Lady Edgecombe, then it must be unexceptionable.”

“We fell in love with the waltz the first time we danced it together,” the Earl of Edgecombe said. “It was in an assembly room not unlike this, was it not, Frances?”

Mr. Crossley was silenced.

Viscount Whitleaf held out a hand and Susanna placed her own on top of it. He led her out onto the empty dance floor. They were the first there. They could probably have waited five minutes longer, but, oh, she was glad he had not waited. This was the moment she had anticipated eagerly ever since he had asked her yesterday. She was going to waltz. With him. The happiness of it all was almost too much to bear.

“Well?” he said when they were alone together-though they were, of course, surrounded by their fellow guests. “What is your verdict on your first assembly? Not that I really need to ask, I believe.”

“It is that obvious?” She pulled a face. “But I really do think it is splendid, and I do not care how gauche I sound to you. This is my very first ball-at the age of twenty-three-and I am not even going to pretend to be indifferent to it all.”

“Ah, but it is splendid,” he said, holding her eyes with his own-as he had done with each of his partners. “Far more splendid, in fact, than any other ball or assembly I have ever attended in my twenty-six years.”

Which was a Banbury tale if ever she had heard one. She laughed again.

“Oh, but I believe you did not complete that thought,” she said. “Were you not supposed to add that it is more wonderful because I am here?”

“I was going to say that,” he told her, “but I thought you would accuse me of flattery and flirtation.”

“Indeed I would,” she said. “But really, are you enjoying yourself? I know that all the other young ladies are thrilled that you are here.”

“The other young ladies,” he said, setting one hand over his heart. “Not you too?”

But she laughed and fanned her face. Talking nonsense, even mildly flirting, could be enjoyable after all, she thought, when both parties were well aware that it was nonsense they spoke.

“I will remember this,” she said, “all my life.”

“This assembly?” he asked her. “Or this waltz?”

The smile was arrested on her face for a moment.

“Both, I hope,” she said. “Unless I fall all over your feet during the waltz. But then I suppose I would remember all the more.”

Other couples were gathering around them. The orchestra members were tuning their instruments again.

“If you fall over my feet,” he said, “it will be because of my unpardonable clumsiness and I shall atone by going home and burning my dancing shoes. No, correction. I shall atone by burning my dancing shoes and then walking home.”

She laughed once more.

And then stopped laughing.

He had set his right hand behind her waist and taken her right hand in his left. She lifted her left hand to set on his shoulder. She could smell his cologne. She could feel his body heat. She could hear her heartbeat throbbing in her ears.

His violet eyes gazed very directly into her own-they smiled slightly.

Ah, she thought, the magic of it.

The sheer wonderful magic.

Then the music began.

It occurred to her afterward that a number of other couples had taken to the floor with them. She even had one fleeting memory of seeing the Earl of Edgecombe twirling Frances about one corner of the room, holding her rather closer than Mr. Huckerby would approve of. She could recall the swirling colors of the ladies’ gowns, the warm glow of the candles, the sounds of voices and laughter, the sight of a number of people gathered at the sidelines, watching.

But at the time she was oblivious to it all. She was aware only of the music and the dance and the man who held her. She performed the steps faultlessly if a little woodenly for the first couple of minutes, and she held her body stiff and as far distant from his as the positioning of their arms allowed. But then came the moment when she raised her eyes from his intricately tied neckcloth to look into his own eyes-and he smiled at her and she relaxed.

“Oh,” she said a little breathlessly, “I do remember how.”

“And so,” he said, “do I. I hope I live up to the exacting standards of your Mr. Huckerby.”

She laughed. “Yes, I would have to say you do.”

They did not speak after that, but it seemed to her afterward that they gazed into each other’s eyes the whole time they danced. It ought to have caused intense discomfort. Gazing into another person’s eyes from such a short distance even when conversing always gave her the urge to take a step back or to glance away from time to time. But she felt no such urge with Viscount Whitleaf. They danced, it seemed to her, as if they were one harmonious unit.

She remembered the quickly suppressed mental image she had had almost two weeks ago of waltzing in his arms. That dream had come true after all.

And, ah, it was exhilarating beyond words.