The Notorious Countess. Liz Tyner

His voice barely reached her ears.

      She considered her goal and then thought of him. ‘Andrew. If you don’t dance with me, you might not be connected to me. Let us part now.’

      She hadn’t called him Lord Andrew, but he had not seemed to notice, which she appreciated. Riverton would have shot her a killing glare.

      ‘No. I am desperate for a waltz with you.’ His lips didn’t smile, but happy crinkles appeared at his eyes and his voice was just a touch more resounding, possibly able to carry to others. ‘A waltz, Beatrice?’

      She kept her words for his ears only. ‘Don’t say you were not warned.’

      ‘Is your dancing that bad?’ His face tipped near hers, words soft.

      She raised her chin. ‘It’s quite grand.’

      He clasped his hand over her gloved fist and pulled it to his lips for a quick brush, then opened the door for her. ‘Then I will not give you an opportunity to refuse.’

      When she stepped into his arms for the waltz, she did not care what was said about her, even in the past. It had led to this moment and this dance, and she looked into the eyes of her muse.

      ‘Andrew. You must pose for me. We did get along quite well the other night and we do now.’

      ‘I cannot be blamed for that. You looked so lovely in the spectacles and mob cap. I was overcome with madness,’ he whispered, but his eyes sparked humour. ‘And the name... I’ve always had a penchant for women named Tilly. Sadly, I was misled.’