Page 4 of Once a Scoundrel

She sighed gratefully. She seldom waltzed and so could safely remain at the side of the room, enjoying both her punch and the moment’s respite to gather herself from—

“Good evening, Faith.”

The glass slipped from her fingers.

A hand shot out and grabbed it before it could smash against the floor.

She whirled around, her mouth falling open. Her heart stopped.Stephen. For one pained moment as she stared at him the world froze around her.

She should have hated him, should have scratched his eyes out, should have screamed! All these years, she’d thought about what she’d say to him when this moment came, what cutting remark she’d level on him, what sophisticated and urbane wit she’d unleash on him...

But now that he stood in front of her, in flesh and blood and gazing back at her with the same wary unease that swirled through her, she couldn’t find any words through the riot of emotions inside her.

Then he reached past her to set down the glass, and the moment shattered. Her heart lurched to a start, and the rushing blood roared deafeningly in her ears.

“Hello, Stephen,” she forced out.Why did you simply leave, as if I meantnothing to you? Did you think of me at all while you were gone? Did you know that I loved you?Thousands of questions swirled inside her. But too overwhelmed in the moment to put voice to one, she lifted her chin and accused instead, “You’re late.”

“Still better than never.” He gave her that devil-may-care grin that had fluttered hearts across England...and broken hers. “I wouldn’t dare miss Strathmore’s birthday party. Or the chance to catch up with the Westovers and Mattesons.” His gaze searched her face, just as uncertain as she about how they would go forward. “I missed you, Faith.” He hesitated, carefully selecting his words. “I treated you badly before, and I’ve come to ask your forgiveness.”

She struggled to breathe as his words shivered through her.Tell him that you need to return to your friends, that your sisters have asked you to join them...Oh, tell himanythingto make him stop looking at you like that!“There’s nothing to forgive.” She forced a smile. “I’d forgotten about it completely, in fact.”

His eyes narrowed briefly, as if he’d recognized that for the lie it was. He didn’t believe her, but she didn’t give a fig about what he believed. He’d never again get close enough to wound her.

Even now, with his nearness stirring up the anger she’d carried inside her for so long, she wasn’t certain if she could ever offer forgiveness. But she knew her role for this party, knew she was supposed to smile and be pleasant, to show that the Westover family had accepted him back into the fold with open arms. So she whispered, unable to put full voice to the lie, “We’re still best of friends.”

He held out his hand. “Then how about a waltz for an old friend?” When she hesitated, he cajoled, “I’ve been away for four years, and my horse made for a lousy dance partner.”

Panic churned inside her. No, not a dance. Certainly not a waltz! Being in his arms would be torture, even in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

So she seized on the only excuse she could— “Papa doesn’t like for me to waltz.”

“Strathmore finds waltzing too scandalous?” he asked, disbelieving.

“He finds waltzing too scandalous for his unmarried daughters,” she corrected. Not entirely a lie.

“Even with me?”

“Especiallywith you.”

He laughed easily. Faith was suddenly reminded of how close they’d once been, and an aching sense of loss knotted in her belly. They’d never have that again.

“I’m a soldier come home from the wars.” He clucked his tongue with mocking disapproval. “Where’s your loyalty to crown and country?”

With the weight of what seemed to be every pair of eyes in the room on her, she knew she couldn’t refuse him. Not an old friend of the family. Not when the busybodies were simply salivating for any new bit of gossip about him.

She drew a deep breath to gather her resolve and offered him her hand.“Apparently, the same place as my pride,” she muttered, then winced as soon as the too-earnest words slipped from her lips.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her with a chuckle as he led her toward the dance floor. “It all goes before a fall.”

Before she could respond to that cryptic comment, he pulled her into his arms and whirled her into the waltz.

She’d expected him to be rusty after being away from society for so long, but he danced expertly through the steps, fluidly twirling her around the floor. Each movement demonstrated his natural athleticism, and she followed easily, aware of the heat of his gloved hand on the small of her back and the strength of his fingers folded around hers.

“For someone who doesn’t waltz,” he commented, carefully keeping his voice guarded so other couples couldn’t overhear, “you’re quite good at it.”

“I could say the same about you,” she grudgingly acknowledged with a sniff.

That earned her a crooked grin. “I aim to please you, Faith.”