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He gave her an encouraging shove in the right direction. “Ricborough, eh?” She heard him mutter. “Well there’s an interesting development.”
    “You don’t believe her, do you father?” Tom probed. “She’s never even met the man. She’s not spoken to a soul since she set foot in this room.”
    “Aye, well, all will be apparent soon enough.”
    Viola sensed her father’s gaze burning a hole in her back as she crossed the room to reach Lord Ricborough. For once she was pleased when the folks surrounding him retreated as she approached.
    “Miss Marsh.” His elegant brows lifted as he greeted her. Close to, he looked even more magnificent in his finery than he had done from across the room.
    “You have to dance with me,” she blurted. “I told my father that you’d asked me, so that I wouldn’t have to dance with Sir Hutsby-Mede. You will, won’t you?” He’d asked for her hand in marriage, surely he wouldn’t balk at turning her about the salon.
    “Not because you wanted to dance with me, then?”
    “Well…I…” She peeped up at him, to find him smiling. “Actually, yes I would. Very much so.”
    He held out his hand to her.
    Viola heard the gasps of those around them as she accepted it.
    “Do I need to watch out for my toes?” he asked, as he slid his arm around her waist. “I saw what you did to poor Tom.”
    “It was no more than he deserved.”
    “Then I’ll endeavour to keep my remarks civil. Here. You need to put your hand here.”
    Oh, my! Viola gulped, realising they were to waltz. She ought to have realised it would have been included in the roster. Her mother had grown up in Vienna, and dearly loved the Spinner or Walzer , as she’d called it. They’d often danced it together, but this was the first time she’d been crushed so close to a man. William was joyously light on his feet, but it raised her pulse every time his leg brushed her skirt, and she was hyper aware of every inch where their bodies touched. She wallowed in the scent of him too. Cinnamon and cloves, mixed with that heady masculine scent all of his own. If only he was prepared to take her for his own, without any addendums to his proposal.
    “I believe you may have a few takers after this,” he remarked a few minutes into the movement. “Please promise you’ll save a space on your dance card for Percy, and one or two more for me.”
    “People will talk if we dance that many times.”
    “Sweet Viola, people are talking already. We’re causing quite a stir. I fear they may already have matched us and married us off. We’re not going to disappoint them, are we?”
    Even the potential threat of being forced into wedlock with Sir Hutsby-Mede wasn’t enough to make her plunge feet first into a different murky pool. As Aunt Clara had rightly said, they both needed to look at this with clear vision. “I can’t accept, not yet, not without telling you something first.”
    “Then tell me.”
    She shook her head. “Not here.” There were too many people close by, and she was wise enough to the ways of her peers to know they liked nothing more than to repeat things they just happened to have overheard. In any case, Percy really ought to be present too.
    “Very well, but you should know that nothing you tell me will make any difference. Not to me, and not to Percy either. We know you’re the right woman for us, Viola. I can feel it in here.” He briefly held her hand to his heart, so she could feel its thud through her fingertips. “If it were possible I would make you mine now, so that we could both love you at once.”
    “You oughtn’t say such things. What if you’re overheard?”
    He shifted his hold, so that he could stroke the bare skin of her neck with his fingertip. Immediately, her nipples tightened to sharp points that punched against the bones of her stays. “I don’t care if they do. My intentions are entirely honourable.”
    Perhaps not quite entirely.
    “Do you have any idea how much I