"Are you always so hesitant when you ask a woman to dance with you, my lord Herrick?" Sophia smiled up at the Viscount and he gave her a tight, amused one in return. They still had not made their way onto the dance floor, and despite Sophia's subtle push, he had not budged. The musicians were getting ready to play the next song, and in the absence of music the roar of voices could be heard all the more clearly.

"I have found that I don't hold a particular, animate desire for dancing, but I am a man of my word, Lady Brighton. I have promised you your dance. You will get it." A brief look of what she swore was pain when he said those words flashed in his eyes. Yet, he dragged them to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for the symphony to begin.

Sophia took that moment to admire Viscount Herrick. His profile was all angles and planes; a sharp, slightly crooked nose, high cheekbones, narrow face, and a sharp jaw. Even his green eyes were piercing, cupped by dark eyelashes, the same rich brown as his hair.

She finally responded, "I suppose that is acceptable and understandable. I much do not like playing the harp, although all ladies are supposed to learn to do so and take an immense liking to it."

A flash of white teeth greeted her. "Who would have thought the young, virtuous debutante hated doing her duties?"

Blood surged to her cheeks, rendering them a lovely pink. His dimples, if it were even possible, caved in deeper into his skin at the display of her charming behavior. Her heart started to thunder in her chest and the blood rushed into her ears, roaring like a river.

"I suppose this world is full of unique people, isn't it so, my lord?"

"I suppose it is. But being unique among the endless sea of the same mannered people is not a horrid thought. You are not like other women I have met, Ms. Brighton," he murmured, throwing her a hooded look.

"Is that meant to be flattering?"

"I wouldn't want it to mean anything else."

Before she could say anything further, the first note of the next song strummed through the air, and Viscount Herrick and Sophia made their way onto the main area dance floor. They were swept up by the other couples in seconds.

However, when the faint notes of the waltz grew louder, Sophia froze. Unmarried men and women were not supposed to dance to a dance as scandalous as this. Viscount Herrick seemed to realize this too as he went completely still as the blood drained from his face. He wetted his lips, looking at her helplessly.

The opening note had been misleading, for Sophia had heard it and assumed it was another dance. It had been a long time since she had heard the music. Every time she had practiced the steps for formal dances at her home, she had to a recall a memory of the music from her lessons period. And she had clearly mislabeled this one.

Oh, dear Lord.

But they were on the dance floor now, and there was nothing to be done. There was no space left for the pair to leave. The crowd seemed to close around them, suffocating them. It was as if they were encouraging the pair to dance, just so they could whisper about it.

Sophia could spy Aunt Dahlia glaring at them with shock and then watched her sputter in fury as she marched over to the musicians and tried to convince them to play some other tune. But the leader adamantly refused, and Aunt Dahlia gave Sophia a defeated glance from across the room.

It seemed Sophia and Viscount Herrick would have to waltz together after all. Sophia swore she could hear Fate laughing at her, laughing that she would be the subject of hushed whispers.

He bowed, she curtsied, and the dance began.

They both stretched out one hand, loosely interlacing their fingers. His other hand was placed softly on her back, encircling her waist while hers was placed on his shoulder. Every touch sent a shiver through her body. Her fingers --though encased by gloves-- erupted into a tiny, thousand sparks that traveled through her entire frame, manifesting into a large ball of energy woven together like silk, until she felt she could explode from it.

When he twirled her and she flew back towards him, their chests collided, and she could not breathe as that heat wrecked catastrophe in her lungs, her heart. He wrecked catastrophe in her.

He too seemed to be fascinated by her, for his eyes never left hers. It was a spar between her blue and his green. The nerve in his jaw ticked, as he was trying to prevent himself from doing something impulsive.

Like, kiss her.

Wouldn't you like that?

Neither of them spoke a word. The music faded into the background and the whole world disappeared into a seamless nothing until only they existed. Sophia stifled the urge to run her fingers through those sinful, soft locks of his, trace those sharp angles and feel them scraping her skin.

The pull between them was unlike anything she had ever felt before. No other man here had not made her feel alive, as Herrick did.

Sophia had read many tales of romance, and for that reason, she was sure this inexorable sense of catastrophe was unusual or else, she would have experienced with every other man in this room. But she had not. It had to be a sign of sorts. What sign?

As she took in the crookedness of his nose again, Sophia could not control the urge to ask him, "Whatever happened to your nose?" For years, Sophia's mother had cautioned Sophia to temper her outspoken countenance, but it was only now she realized the importance of those words.

She expected him to be outraged, chide her for her loose tongue, but he seemed he did not care. Not missing a beat, he tonelessly said, "I broke it, my lady. My younger brother thought it would be humorous to fix my apparently large nose with a hammer when he was a child. So, he took it and clocked me straight on the head with it. Very unfortunate incident, as one could imagine."

Sophia gaped at him, incredulous. It was not entirely out of the realm of possibility, but at the same time, it seemed such an absurd tale. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to discern whether he was goading her and Blake coolly stared back. A few seconds later, short chokes that resembled laughter rumbled from him and Sophia glared.

"Did you actually believe that, my lady?" He asked as he stepped away from her and then back, mimicking the steps of the dance.

"No," she shot. "Maybe. I was deciding if I should believe you." She placed her hand once again on his shoulder, feeling the soft, blue fabric under her fingers.

He grinned and Sophia huffed at him, "I have a mischievous sister myself and things like that are not entirely impossible."

"Well, for what it is worth, that was a jest. My friend, the Duke of Buckhaven, who you danced with earlier, broke it in a squabble. Twice, actually." Blake's eyes fluttered and his mouth drew into a thin line.

Sophia harrumphed although she could not hide the smile. "I can't say you didn't deserve it, for spurring me on like this, my lord."

"I will have to agree on that count, my lady. But you did ask and it was a rather unpolite topic of conversation. I would daresay you deserved that little poke at you for making me confess my sins." He winked, slightly leaning into her.

When he twirled her and spun her towards him again, her back bumped with his chest and she could feel his hot breath caressing her neck. Her skin was burning, burning, burning.

She felt like she was dancing with water, as he willed her shape into his as the dance progressed. Though it would have lasted only a few minutes, it felt like an eternity, as if time had forgotten to breathe.

When his fingers drifted over her waist, she gasped softly. The smell of almonds and butter, his smell, filled Sophia's nostrils. It took every ounce of her willpower to not turn around and bury herself in his neck, wallow in that scent. He looked of a proper man and smelled divine. Was there anything this man wasn't?

Faithful, came the reply in her mind.

Sophia had heard all about the debonair viscount and his list of conquests, from Alessandra, her ever diligent gossip provider. She could not have ignored it even if she was born under a rock. The names were far too many, the stories far too scandalous.

She could see how women fell over their heels just to spend a moment with him. He was a sort of man who could make even virginal maiden like here think illicit, clandestine thoughts. Thoughts that she should never think of, but nonetheless had been dreaming of, the moment she opened those novels of her she had accidentally purchased.

She had not realized the nature of those books until she had come upon the detailed descriptions of things done in bedchambers. Curiosity was a damning thing and it had damned Sophia's soul with fantasies.

That same curiosity now spurred her on to think about doing those things with him. He could surely offer the pleasures of living to her, show her a little taste of otherworldly things.

Offer that to her? What in God's name was she thinking? It was a sin of the church, and a sin of the body and mind to even imagine such a thing. In addition, she was a pure virgin, thinking of improving her financial status. A defiling would be of no worth to her. She had barely met this man and now she was thinking of bedding him because of something she had read, and because she appreciated his sense of humor?

Live, live, live her blood chanted.

No, no, no, her mind echoed.

Framing a sentence in his presence was as hard as a man trying to walk straight when he was utterly drunk. Like that drunk man, every sense of Sophia's seemed to be dulled in a roar. Every rational thought fled from her mind like hounds were chasing after them.

The slight loss of her senses did terrify her. She had always kept her wits about her, kept her cool. She had fancied herself a dreamer for love but had always been focused on what her goals were: marriage and money. Nothing other than that, and she could afford to jeopardize it, just because she felt lonely and wanted some excitement. That was selfish of her.

So be selfish. You have given so much already.

She wanted to live. One day. One kiss. That was all she asked. Then she could go back to a dull life, caring for her siblings and her future husband, and one day, her kids—back to being a laundress. She could spare one day of her existence to be happy, do what she wished to, for it had been so long since she had. It had been so long since she had thought of herself and not others.

And God, she needed a little excitement after years of constant labor, an existence that was a grave for hope and love.

"Lady Brighton, forgive me for saying so, but you look troubled." A soft whisper caressed the shell of her ear and she started.

Troubled by you, she wanted to say.

"Oh, it is nothing at all. Just the woes of a woman who wonders about her future."

"You do not seem the type of woman to worry about the future too much. You seem like a woman to seize the present, take charge of it, the future an afterthought. You seem to be a woman grateful for the present." The edge of Lord Herrick's lips twisted up wryly.

"I suppose I am that sort, though you do assume a lot. Or was, before the future became and utmost crucial undertaking for me. I had to secure it, the moment my mother passed, and I was left in charge of my siblings."

"I am sorry for your loss and what you have had to go through. It cannot be easy to have the world on your shoulders. It is not easy to lose a parental figure, especially a mother. I know my sister cherishes our mother, for women do share a unique bond." His eyes crinkled up as he said those words, ever so soft. It hit her like a blow to the stomach.

"Thank you, my lord. It was a long time ago."

He spun her, and her white skirts billowed out. "It does not make it any less horrid. She is still gone."

"You are too kind, sir." Compassion seemed to radiate off this man and Sophia had to admit she was surprised. Kindness was not something she had seen in a very long time, especially from a male figure. Especially not her father.

"Kindness should not be thanked."

Viscount Herrick was nothing like her father. And how she wanted him, wanted to feel him kiss him. No, it was wrong. She would enjoy this moment with him and that was it. No more wicked thoughts. She would not succumb to her traitorous heart, forgo her own strength and duty.

Caught up in her own thoughts of vowing to stay away from him, she missed his question and she wanted to berate herself. "I am sorry, my lord, but did you say something?"

"I said, Lady Sophia Brighton, it's indeed a pleasure to dance with tonight's honored guest. I shall admit, I was not at first excited to be subjected to this ordeal but I am glad I had a chance to converse with you."

"Oh," she replied, gnawing at her lips in embarrassment. Something dangerous crossed his eyes and he cocked his head to the side.

"This is your first season ever after all, isn't it, my lady? It's just as beautiful as you," he purred, his voice suddenly low and seductive, causing goosebumps to erupt across her skin. He seemed to notice it too as a small smile played games on his lips. Sophia looked around to see if anyone else had heard it, but thankfully the music was loud enough to drown out their whispers.

"Yes, yes. It is. I'm called a debutante ball for that very reason, my lord." Sophia responded, trying to douse the flame of his words.

She realized again moments later her words were far too sharp and blatantly honest, not concealed by pleasantry. She wanted to slap herself. What was it about this man that made her so comfortable, so bold? She was sure to be told to hold her tongue in check now.

He looked at her in surprise and perhaps a trifle bit of mirth, his eyes widening. Two can play that game, Viscount Herrick.

"Sorry, my lady. I do not keep too much with the formal names of events. I have found it to be tedious to remember all those fancy titles. I must have been mistaken with my assumption, which," he slightly cocked his head to the left as they walked side by side together as part of the dance steps, "you were quick to correct. Sharply, might I add."

"Yes, you are wrong on that count and I apologize if I made a jest out of your intelligence, or criticized you for your lack of knowledge."

"I feel it is said that it's men's duty in this society to keep the women in their place," he continued, leaning down to whisper on her ear. "I have always found an independent woman who spoke her thoughts and were more vocal, instead of beating about them, were far more...pleasurable in general. Rather than giggles, I would take intelligent words from a women's mouth. No harm is done in speaking your mind, angel."

Angel.

She raised her eyes to his, trying to gouge if he meant anything deeper in those words, for they did seem to be some sort of invitation lurking under it. He just gave her an innocent expression, although his eyes glinted like the edge of a blade. And edge she was dangerously close to falling over. One shove, that was all it would take but the tumble would be catastrophic.

"Bur enough about women. Have you managed to find a prospective suitor yet?"

"Not yet. None have promised to call on me. But it has only been one night. There was a man, however, the Duke of Buckhaven who danced with me earlier. He seemed like a good catch, but he made it clear he was not interested in marriage. He did say he was open to other relations, however." Sophia bit out, smiling slyly. The last part was a complete lie, fabricated by the rumors she had heard of that rake's reputation.

When she and the Duke had danced, she had seen him throwing glances at someone with a superior smile and later had seen the Viscount and him talking. She drew the natural conclusion that some sort of war was going on and it involved her. Perhaps she was assuming too much, but she had always trusted her instincts, for they never steered her wrong.

His green eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. "Stay away from him. He does not have honorable intentions."

"And I suppose you do? You both are rakes after all. Is this all an elaborate game to see who can ravish me first?" This drew the line. She might as well wear a doublet, coat and a top hat and call herself a gentleman, for no gentle lady spoke like this. She really had to stop, but the buzz through her skin made it an impossible task.

He narrowed his eyes, his eyebrows disappearing under his curls. The corner of his lips twitched, his green eyes becoming molten, in what she supposed was anger. She had accused him of being less than gentlemanly...even if he were so.

But instead of a stream of hissed threats, a lopsided grin broke out over his face, full of pure pleasure and joy. He chortled, his teeth winking at her.

"I am afraid you have caught me in a bit of bind here and I cannot say that I am truly any better than James. But no, we don't wish to ravish you." If it was even possible, his grin grew even more wolfish. But before he could say anything else, the last notes of the waltz slowly started to thrum through the air and the general chatter became louder. They had to move away from one another.

She curtsied and he bowed, his eyes never leaving her face. He slightly swiveled on heels, as if he was going to walk away and something like disappointment crushed her heart. He then paused and turned back towards her. A couple people shot him curious glances, but thankfully most were still immersed in the final notes of the waltz or their own conversations to take much notice.
"Five minutes."

Those two words caused Sophia's heart to leap to her throat, the promise of adventure that lurked in them. "Five minutes of what?"

"Meet me in the library for five minutes. I haven't met a woman as... intriguing as you in a very long time and well..." A slow, seductive grin caressed his face. "I think I want to get to know you."

Sophia could see more people whispering at them now, whether it was for the scandalous dance they had just finished so boldly in public or the prolonged talk after. They could not hear the words, of course, over the roar of voices, but still, they passed judgment. She could see a couple of men beelining for her the very moment to snag her for the next dance. She was running out of time to refuse or to accept.

Her words came out rushed. "How do I not know you will not ravish me, that all you want to do is talk? You warned me moments ago that you could not be trusted."

He placed a small hand over his heart, mockingly. "You believe that I would do that, my lady?"

"I can never be too careful where and with whom my virtue is concerned."

His playful grin dropped at that. "I promise I won't ravish you. A man of my words, remember? I also told you that, and I kept my word."

Something irrational in Sophia felt disappointed at those words.

She twirled away from him and then threw him a hooded look over her shoulder. "Well, I will take it under due consideration. You're just going to have to see if I come or not then, my Lord Herrick."

He stepped forward until they were nearly touching again and quickly pulled her gloved hand up to his sinful lips.

"I am very much hoping you do come. I will be waiting," he whispered, as he pressed a kiss on her hand. She shivered as little trembles snaked down her spine. Before she could reply he twirled on his ankles and departed, heading towards the general direction of the library, leaving Sophia with an unusual sense of loneliness. She clutched the hand that he had kissed and was tingling.

She knew she should not follow. The twenty-year-old Viscount Herrick would want nothing good to do with her, but she found she could not resist that pull the dragged her towards him, as much as he wanted to. And he had called her intriguing.

Not useless, not a woman, not any other unflattering adjective her father had thrown her way for years, what some part of her truly believed, but intriguing.

She just wanted to be free for one night. A simple kiss could not hurt, if that was what he was after, could it? She felt like being wanton today, perhaps the only time she ever could for the rest of her life. Besides, it was true he had kept his word once, and would certainly do so again.

However, he could also break it, ruin her. He would be forced to marry her then, and Sophia did not want to be trapped in a marriage she did not wish to be in.

Seeing her mother in a loveless marriage before she passed, was also the reason that Sophia partially believed that love was a gamble, not something to take lightly. She could win or lose, and tonight, just for a taste of what she thought might be 'love' could ruin her entire future if everything fell apart.

But she would never get a chance like this again, to discover some part of her that hoped for a future with a lot more love, happiness. And was she not curious, after reading every novel in her collection?

She was not her mother and Viscount Herrick was not her father. The precedent they had set should not define her future now. It would be nice to simply talk to someone who enjoyed her company—very few did.

Excusing herself to go to the 'powder room' Lady Sophia Brighton started walking towards the library. Her mind screamed at her to turn back, to leave.

She did not listen.

Is Sophia making the right choice? Comment below! Thoughts on Blake and Sophia--both together and apart?

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Header image credits: Jon Paul