“It is funny.” John gazed at Eleanor’s tightly pressed-together lips quivering in suppressed mirth and wanted to kiss them. He had not particularly wanted a love match. Yet he had the distinct feeling that if he wanted Eleanor, that was what it would take. How would he even know if he was in love? He had lusted over women. He lusted over her. But love? Questions began to form in his head. Chief of which was how he would know if he was in love. Who could he ask?

The set came to an end and, once again, he realized that dancing with Eleanor was so easy he did not need to think about the steps at all. And he didn’t want to let her go. He would have been perfectly happy to waltz with her all evening.

“We will be the last couple on the dance floor.” Her soft voice made him drop his hands.

“I was thinking.”

“I had a feeling that was what you were doing.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Shall we go to supper?”

“Yes.” He had to be quick enough to select her food for her. They reached her family as they were making their way down wide stairs. “Is there anything particular you would like?”

“Always lobster patties”—Eleanor smiled, as if she was savoring the taste—“and asparagus if they have it. No soup.”

“I shall see what I can do.” He led her to the table several footmen were putting together for their group. “Does everyone always sit together?”

“I do not know.” She stared at the tables. “I think so. I recall hearing about it in previous years.”

“Ah.” He noticed Lady Worthington speaking with his mother, who shook her head. What was that about? “Let me find our seats.” He picked two chairs in the middle of the tables. Hopefully, that would give him more time to talk with Eleanor. “Do these suit?”

“Yes.” She sank gracefully onto the chair he held out for her. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I will be right back.” John was happy he was one of the first gentlemen to reach the table.

“How is it going?” St. Albans was at John’s elbow.

“Well, I think.” How would he even know? “You?”

“I’m not sure. There are times I think she is warming to me, then I think she wants me to go away. Far away.” That was the first time he’d heard St. Albans doubt himself. Yet John had noticed Lady Alice’s coolness to the man.

“Perhaps you are being too forward.” Or arrogant. Lady Alice did not seem like the type to like arrogance.

“A faint heart never won a fair lady.” His friend motioned to the footman serving the lobster patties.

John quickly indicated that he would like some patties as well. “This fair lady might have a different view.”