Chapter Eleven
The music bore no resemblance to the waltzes he was used to dancing in London. It was wild and fast, almost Bacchanalian. The musicians’ exuberance was infectious. Nicholas heard the music in his ears, felt it in his blood. Dance faster, it urged. Faster. Lady Isabella must have felt the music, too; she matched him step for step as he led her into one flamboyant turn after another. They were both laughing by the time the musicians laid down their bows. Their hands clung together for a moment as they steadied one another. Nicholas dragged air into his lungs and bowed. “Thank you, Lady Isabella.”
“Not at all,” she said, fanning herself with a hand. “You’re an excellent dancer.”
“As are you.” He offered her his arm. “A drink, ma’am?”
“Please!”
The line to the punch bowl wa
