Miles Before I Sleep (2 page)

“Miles, return her to us when you’re finished with your dance. We’ll see to the rest.”

Miles dodged a few dancers on his path to his quest. She was beautiful! Had he ever seen eyes so pale a shade of blue before? They were like melting ice on water. A darker ring of blue showed around the outer part, almost as if her dark thick lashes reflected a ring of color around her iris. And her mouth; did any lips have a right to be so pink and full, so ripe and kissable? Christ, he wanted to take her into his arms and ravage her mouth. He nearly stopped in his tracks as her lips parted, and white teeth flashed at his cousin. Miles wondered if she would ever smile at him like that, and felt strangely angry with his cousin.

~*~

Andrea looked out over the dancers, wishing to be out there with them, when she saw the man crossing with purpose to their side of the room. His black frock coat barely contained his wide shoulders, she thought off-handedly. His black hair, although trimmed to his collar lifted slightly from the wake of his purposeful strides. But it was his hazel-grey eyes that captured her attention. He was the kind of man she dreamed of dancing with at her first ball—a man fully grown, with a powerful build and vitality in his gait.

It took her a moment to realize that by the way he looked at her, that he must have noticed she was staring. She blushed and tried to think of a way to make it appear she wasn’t looking at him. She feigned looking around him and waved at her mother.

His head followed her wave and he bumped into a dancing couple as he looked behind him. He paused momentarily to apologize and Andrea dragged her eyes away.

Feeling disloyal to the only person in the room who had paid any attention to her, Andrea forced her mind back to the young man beside her, and smiled her most brilliant smile. He was too busy talking to notice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man pause mid-step, then continue coming directly towards her companion and her.

“Hello, cousin,” he said coolly, his eyes never quite reaching the younger man.

“Miles, what are you doing here? I thought you were still at school.”

“Richard wrote to tell me Sebastian James was in town, so I took a few days off from my studies in hopes of getting an introduction.”

Andrea perked up immediately at the mention of her father. Making an introduction was exactly the excuse she needed to get away from the redhead.

Before she could speak, the toad interrupted. “If you’re looking for meet Mr. James, speak to my father, he’ll be happy to present you. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said to Andrea, glancing at his cousin to do the honors. He removed a pair of white gloves from his pocket and began pulling them on.

The man grinned devilishly at the younger male as if he took pleasure in intentionally baiting him.

A crooked grin formed on the lips of the Irish-American. “Miss Andrea James meet Mr.—” he began.

“Miles Huntington,” Miles finished quickly, cutting him off, and preventing him from speaking further. “Would you care to dance, Miss James?” Miles extended his hand to her.

~*~

Was it his imagination or did she grab his hand and step away from his cousin before the question was out of his mouth?  What had he said or done to make her be in such a hurry to get away from him? The dance floor was a mere two paces away but Miles turned and cast a speculative glance backwards at the young man. In the process, he collided with Andrea who had already turned to face him in preparation for the waltz being played by the musicians.

He heard her gasp and reached out automatically to steady her, damning himself for his carelessness.

“I beg your pardon,” the young woman said, before he could offer up his own apologies. “At home, dancers start at the edge of the dance floor and work their way in.”

Her eyes were wide, her posture rigidly poised, accentuating her long slender neck. Her hand pressed into her upper chest as if trying to catch her breath. Was she giving him a subtle setting-down or was she genuinely apologizing for the contact?

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, confused that she should ask his pardon, when he was obviously at fault for not watching where he was going.

“Hurt me?” she repeated, as if she did not understand what he meant. She felt something, but it was not pain. She had barely turned when he barreled into her, flattening her breasts against his chest. But strangely, it wasn’t only her breasts that felt the force, but a spot hidden beneath her skirts that he couldn’t have possibly impacted.

He held her less than six inches away, holding her in place, long after he knew she was steady on her feet—neither one seemed capable of stepping back.

Her laugh sounded forced. “If this is the way we start, shall I worry for my toes? I should warn you, my feet are uncommonly long.”

Unconsciously, he glanced down, but could not see her feet hidden away under her skirts. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he wondered if she was making a jest, because he had never met a young woman who would bring attention to her flaws.

He placed his gloved hand on the small of her back and extended the other hand to take hers.

“Shall we?”

Andrea’s empty dance card dangled from her wrist as she put her gloved hand in his. “If we stand here any longer, we shall begin to feel foolish.”

Chastised again?

Miles smiled as he tried to tell from her expression how she meant it, but her expression gave nothing away.

In his arms, she glided gracefully halfway across the room. Just as they passed in front of the small orchestra, the musician played the final chords, leaving them in a crowd of people exiting the floor.

“Have pity and play another waltz,” Miles said to the small orchestra. “This young lady has crossed an ocean to get here, and I haven’t even made a full turn around the floor with her.”

One of the men laughed, and began sawing his bow across his violin. By the time he completed the second bar, the rest of the musicians had joined in.

“I’m sorry my cousin cornered you like that,” he said as they began moving again. “I suppose he was talking about his father’s warehouses.”

“And cotton and tobacco.”

“I apologize for not getting here sooner,” he said with exaggerated horror. “The way he talks about them, you’d think he invented them.”

At the sound of his low, disarming chuckle, she laughed and looked up. Why had she not noticed before how he towered over her? He was even taller than her father. She liked the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up and the way his hazel-gray eyes gleamed happily.

Forcing her eyes down, she felt a blush creeping into her cheeks.

“I’m afraid all of the O’Sheas are a bit overzealous at times,” he said, still smiling at her.

O’Shea,
her mind echoed.
Yes, that was his name. What was his first name? Oh, bother, what did it matter?

“Are you a zealot, too, Mr. Huntington?” she queried, hoping the question sounded like flirtatious banter. “You said you are his cousin.”

“Ah, but we are only related by marriage.”

“Indeed?” She thought he would say more, but he did not. Again, she looked up at him. When she saw him intently gazing down at her, she quickly averted her eyes.

“I offer my sincerest thanks for asking me to dance. I feared my first ball would be a complete fiasco.”

Miles caught a moment of unguarded sadness in her expression and he suddenly realized Andrea James’s smile was a façade. Why would this pretty, young woman need to pretend to be happy? True, his cousin had monopolized her time, but most girls would get angry, or walk away.

“Your first ball? Surely not.” Miles looked at the rouge on her cheeks and tried to imagine her without it. “How old are you?”

Andrea’s face lit up with genuine pleasure. “I shan’t tell you. Guess.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. Rarely had he seen anyone younger than twenty-one wear cosmetics, but she had said it was her first ball. “Nineteen?”

“Truly?” She laughed in a little burst. It sounded genuine and excited. “Not even close, Mr. Huntington.” Her pale eyes gleamed with mirth.

Miles frowned. If it was her first ball, he could not guess older. But what young woman would be excited to have someone think she was older and closer to being on the shelf? Someone not yet out of the schoolroom.

“Fifteen?” he said soberly, feeling suddenly reluctant to be dancing with anyone still in school.

“Oh, Mr. Huntington. You are quite exceedingly bad at this. I shall take pity on you and inform you that you missed by two full years.”

Seventeen
. Yes, that made sense. She would have her debut in the next year most likely. No wonder she did not know how to deal with his cousin.

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” he answered distractedly, realizing she was too young to dance so close. Had she told him her feet were long as a subtle way of telling him to step back? Apparently, too subtle.

He quickly adjusted how he held her as he led her around the floor and he soon noticed a change in the tension in her arms. Even her shoulders and neck seemed more relaxed.

He felt a bit daft for not catching the hint. Could he claim to be stupefied by the beauty of one so young? Thankfully, he had not made a complete fool of himself.

“I imagine you’ll be the belle of the ball back home.”

She erected her carriage again, the placid smile returning to her lips, but not making it to her eyes. “Perhaps,” she said.

A sigh escaped his lips, knowing she in no way believed it. Did she not know the beauty she possessed? Perhaps that was something young women only became aware of, when men began giving them attention. If she had not had her debut yet, perhaps she genuinely did not know.

Another couple suddenly maneuvered behind Andrea, and Miles had to pull her abruptly to keep her from running into them. She lost her balance slightly and stepped on his foot as she tried to right herself.

“From swan to swine,” she murmured under her breath. “Have I trampled you unbearably? I warned you my feet are monstrous big. Mama says it’s good I wasn’t born Dutch or I’d have to come to America to buy Indian canoes for my wooden shoes.”

“How unkind.”

“It only sounds unkind because you haven’t heard it in context. She believes when I have finally finished growing, I shall be as tall as she is. My mother is easy to find in a crowd, because she is always the tallest woman.”

Miles looked around involuntarily; his eye was immediately drawn to the tallest woman in the room. She was the same woman who had been with Mrs. Kincaid earlier. He had not noticed before, but she was indeed almost a head taller than all the women and inches taller than a few of the men. For some reason, he had not made the connection before, that
she
was Mrs. James. He had expected the wife of England’s wealthiest shipping mogul to be dowdy and plain.

“Is that her?” Out of the corner of his eye, he detected his dance partner’s nod. “She’s very beautiful.”

“Before she married Father, she was the toast of Drury Lane. Everyone thinks she married Papa for his money, but I think it’s because he is taller than she.”

She waited a moment for her partner to react to what she had said in such a serious tone, and when he finally pulled his eyes from Lillian back to her, she laughed. Her little quip made her realize how much more relaxed she felt now that he was holding her in such a brotherly fashion.

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Marry a man taller than me?”

He chuckled. “I meant act on the stage like your mother.”

“Heavens, no, my parents would not approve,” she said, the irony not lost on her. All she had ever wanted to do was fit in. She hated being a social outcast. Too wealthy to be middle class or even considered gentry, not blue-blooded enough for the aristocracy.

Miles leaned in, and spoke in her ear. As young as she was, he would probably scandalize her. “All this talk about your feet has me devilishly curious. I’ve never had an overwhelming desire to see a woman’s feet until just this moment.”

All expression disappeared from her face. A becoming blush peeked out from around the rouge on her cheeks. She drew back slightly, her back ramrod stiff. Her mind seemed to be working frantically to say something witty.

“You look flushed, Miss James. Would you like me to take you out for fresh air? The Kincaids’ garden is beautiful this time of year.”

Her heart beat wildly in her chest and it took all of the bravery she could muster, not to pull away from him and run to her father. Her mother had warned her about how men would try to get her alone. Visions of this man, uncontrollable with lust, forcing himself on her, flashed through her mind. She completely lost her timing, and had it not been for his firm lead, she would have tripped over her own feet, sending both of them sprawling to the parquet floor.

~*~

When Andrea misstepped all on her own, Miles realized she must have thought he had base motives. Perhaps she even thought he would ask her to remove her shoes. He almost laughed. Poor girl. Once he realized she was still a schoolgirl, he couldn’t help but tease her a bit—give her a taste of what she had to look forward to, when she had her coming-out. Again, he nearly laughed thinking about her returning to school, and telling her friends about the American who wanted to see her feet.