“And I’ve never looked favorably upon the ridiculous notions of society that make absolutely no sense whatsoever.” He held out his hand. “So, let’s cause a stir, shall we?”

A waltz had just begun and Henry was quick to catch her up in the lively rhythm of the dance. His efficiency made it evident he’d had plenty of practice, but it helped make up for Amala’s lack of practice. He swept her effortlessly around the dance floor while Amala was aware of her full taffeta skirt swirling around her and brushing against that of other ladies, who were all wearing skirts far too full to be practical for any purpose except this.

When the dance was finished everyone applauded, although the lace, fingerless gloves Amala wore prevented her hands from making any sound whatsoever. Unwilling to make any presumptions—or even the appearance of them—in regard to the attention Henry had so kindly offered, she hurried back to where she’d been seated and picked up her fan from the chair in order to sit down. But she was barely seated when she heard Henry say, “Did I frighten you? I must confess I was hoping for more than one dance.”

“Perhaps later,” Amala said, fanning her face. She truthfully stated, “I must confess that it’s terribly hot in here.” She didn’t add that she thought it would be far better if he wasn’t seen spending too much time with her. A vast collection of difficult memories supported her concern. “But . . . thank you, Mr. Beckenridge,” she added in order to be polite. “You have been most kind.”

“Please call me Henry,” he said and again sat beside her. Amala felt concerned but couldn’t force him to go away. In truth she was enjoying his company and couldn’t help feeling pleased—however foolhardy his spending too much time in her presence might be. “And let me call you Amala . . . since you’ve not given me a proper surname I might use.”

“Most people call me Miss Hepworth . . . even if it’s only a formality.”

“That all sounds very well and proper,” he said, “but I prefer to call you Amala, and I would very much like to have a conversation with you.”

“About what?” she asked as if he’d proposed something scandalous.

He chuckled with a sparkle in his eyes that made her stomach flutter, and she increased the speed of her fan.