Crossing the threshold, he shut the door behind him. Now that they were both standing inside, the storage room seemed incredibly small. Perhaps it was just that his presence overwhelmed the space. She’d noted it before, the manner in which he dominated his environment with such ease, as though it was his right to be in command. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any spirits on hand to offer you.”

“I’ve had enough scotch for the night.” She could feel the intensity of his gaze as it roamed over her, as if he was searching for wounds. “Your coming out was a success, then.”

Statement, not question, and yet it demanded a reply. She gave a tiny scoff, hating that it sounded so hard and bitter. “No, not really.”

Feeling the burn at the back of her eyes, she refused to give in to tears.

“What happened?” His tone was that of a man displeased, a man on the verge of calling others out to answer for their actions.

“My family had such hopes, but I fear they were rather dashed. I danced with my brothers, my brothers-by-marriage, the brothers or good friends of my sisters-by-marriage—always some relation in one manner or another. When they’d all had their turn, I wandered among the guests for several dances. Observed, but not approached, not spoken to. Very much like an exhibit at the zoological gardens. Or some theater of curiosity. Come see the girl born out of wedlock—”

“Fancy, no.”

He’d never called her by her given name before, nor had his palm ever cradled her cheek so lovingly. She wasn’t quite certain which of those two occurrences were responsible for making her feel as though her heart were made of candlewax and slowly melting.

“People fear what they do not understand,” he continued.

Slowly she shook her head, grateful his warm, gentle fingers stayed against her skin. “The worst was yet to come. Of a sudden, gentlemen began asking me to dance. But I sensed they were simply going through the motions. So I began making inquiries.”

If his thumb had not begun stroking the curve of her cheek, she might not have found the strength to confess the rest. “It seems my brothers were offering favors to those who took me on a turn about the room. I was beyond mortified because I’m certain everyone knew. The aristocracy adores gossip, and tonight I provided it.”

“Those lords are fools, every last one of them. I would not have needed a bribe to ask you for the honor of a waltz.”

She gave him a sad smile. “But you weren’t there. And you’re my friend.”

Something—an irritation, an anger—flashed across his face. He looked up to the ceiling. His jaw tautened, relaxed, and as though he’d reached some conclusion, he lowered his gaze to her. “Waltz with me now.”

Her laugh was soft, gentle. “We have no orchestra.”