Dancing at Midnight by Julia Quinn Page A

down at the ground
    for pebbles so that she could avoid them with her unshod foot. They were
    only about ten feet away from each other when she heard the sound of his
    footsteps. She looked up instantly and saw him approaching. He was
    wearing that enigmatic little smile of his, as if he knew something that
    she didn't. Actually, she thought, it was more like he knew something
    that she never would.

    "Oh, hello, Lord Blackwood," she said, curving her lips into a smile
    that she hoped matched the mystery of his. She rather
    thought she failed; she'd never had a mysterious day in her life, and
    besides, she sounded too cheerful by half.

    Amidst all of Belle's turbulent thoughts, John nodded.

    "I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing on your property again."

    John raised an eyebrow, and Belle had no idea whether his gesture meant:
    You're an annoying little trespasser, You're an
    amusing piece of baggage, or Your actions aren't worth the time it would
    take to think about them. So she plodded on.

    "I did, of course, realize that this was your property, but I headed
    east from Westonbirt when I left this morning. I don't know
    why, but I did, and the eastern border is really much closer to the
    house than any of the other ones, and so since I like to take fairly
    long walks, it's only natural that I'd reach the border, and I didn't
    think you'd mind." Belle clamped her mouth shut. She
    was babbling. That was unlike her, and she was quite annoyed with
    herself for doing it.

    "I don't mind," John said simply.

    "Oh. Well, that's good, I suppose, because I have no wish to be forcibly
    thrown off your property." That sounded really stupid. Belle shut her
    mouth again.

    "Would it really require force to get you off my property? I had no idea
    you liked it so much."

    Belle smiled impishly. "You're teasing me."

    John gave her another one of those small smiles, the kind that would
    have said so much if the rest of his face weren't so inscrutable.

    "You don't talk much, do you?" she blurted out.

    "I didn't think there was a need. You seem to be holding up both our
    ends of the conversation admirably."

    Belle frowned. "That was a horrid thing to say." She looked up. His
    velvety brown eyes, usually so unreadable, were filled
    with amusement. She sighed. "But true. I don't usually talk this much,
    you know."

    "Really?"

    "Really. I think it's because you're so silent that I feel the need to
    talk more."

    "Ah. So we have shifted the blame to my shoulders?"

    Belle glanced flirtatiously at his shoulders, which were a little
    broader than she'd remembered. "They do seem a bit more
    capable of bearing such a heavy load."

    John grinned at her, really grinned, which was something he didn't do
    very often. He suddenly felt glad that he'd worn one of
    his better coats; he frequently threw on old ones for his early morning
    walks. Then he was annoyed with himself for caring.

    "Is this a new fashion?" he asked, motioning to the boot in her hand.

    "Blister," Belle said, lifting her dress up a few inches. It was risque,
    she knew, but she shrugged it off. The two of them had
    such bizarre conversations, normal rules of etiquette just didn't seem
    to apply.

    Much to her surprise, however, he got down on one knee and took her foot
    into his hands. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked.

    Belle tugged her foot back nervously. "I don't think that will be
    necessary," she said quickly. Seeing her foot was one thing. Actually
    touching it was something else altogether.

    John held fast. "Don't be a prude, Belle. It could become infected, and
    then you'll really be miserable."

    She blinked a few times, more than a little surprised at his bold use of
    her first name. "How did you know that I'm called Belle?" she finally asked.

    "Ashbourne told me," John replied, examining her pale toes. "Where is
    this damned thing, anyway?"

    "On my heel," Belle answered, dutifully turning around.

    John let out a low whistle. "You've got a nasty one there.