sir?’ she asked, with just a hint of challenge.
Sir William’s sleepy blue eyes widened slightly. ‘Upon my word, no, ma’am! It would be a foolish thing to underestimate one’s quarry! But on the other hand…’ his arm was already about her waist and he had somehow drawn her into the waltz ‘…it is equally foolish to risk opposition! Forgive me for my lack of grace,’ Sir William finished with mock apology. ‘I am but a simple sailor, after all!’
Annabella cast him a look from under her lashes. ‘Oh, no, sir, you are too hard on yourself! Scarcely simple , I feel!’ And she heard him laugh in response.
Circling the floor in Sir William’s arms was so exhilarating a feeling that Annabella was obliged to keep her gaze modestly lowered in order to prevent him from reading her mind. Just the proximity of his body made her feel quite light-headed and out of control. Francis had never inspired any feelings which could compare with this delightful but disturbing excitement.
‘When did you start to read The Times , ma’am?’ Sir William enquired, after one revolution of the floor.
Annabella almost jumped at the question. ‘Oh!’ She gathered her wits. ‘Your pardon, sir, I was woolgathering! My father used to take all the papers. I read them avidly, perhaps because I travelled so little myself, and I knew his ships went all over the world, so I used to imagine them sailing to all the places I read about.’
‘Yes, indeed, I came across some of Broseley’s ships when I was stationed in the Indies,’ Sir William said, and suddenly there was a certain grimness in his tone. Annabella felt herself blushing.
‘I know…’ She hesitated, constraint in her voice. ‘He trafficked in slaves and arms and other unpalatable goods…he was not a pleasant man.’
‘I imagine it must have been difficult for you…’ Sir William’s voice had softened as he looked down at her. Green eyes met blue for a moment. Annabella found herself on the verge of confiding. There was something about him that engendered a sense of kinship—that dangerous recognition again—and she knew it could be her undoing. After all, this man was a complete stranger. She knew nothing of him at all. She lowered her gaze.
‘Much of the time, my father was from home, sir. I scarce knew him well. Then I married…’ She shrugged a little uncomfortably, moving on quickly. ‘Though we still lived in the same vicinity, I saw even less of him then. And, of course, he died some two years ago.’
‘Broseley was expected to leave some considerablefortune, was he not?’ Weston said thoughtfully. ‘It might have…eased…your current situation, ma’am.’
Again there was that insidious feeling of understanding, a closeness that was drawing Annabella towards disclosure. She had never had a confidant and the temptation was enormous. But it was too dangerous to allow herself to rely on Sir William. She steeled herself against him.
‘When my father died it would have been pleasant to be rich, I suppose, but not on the profits of such an ill-made fortune! But tell me a little of your own plans,’ she changed the subject with determination. ‘How will you spend your time now that you are home from the sea?’
Weston accepted this change of direction with easy grace, but not without giving her a searching look from those very blue eyes.
‘Oh, I intend to settle in the countryside,’ he said, with a smile, ‘and become a farmer. It sounds mundane, I know, but the delights of the capital hold little interest for me. I fear I ran through all the pleasures of the Town in my salad days!’
‘But do you feel you will be able to settle in one place for long?’ Annabella asked, genuinely interested. ‘After all, you have spent much time in travelling and must surely find the confines of one place a little restrictive?’
Sir William looked thoughtful. ‘I cannot deny that I shall always love the sea,’ he said slowly, ‘but I have my