A/N: Suspension of disbelief required, as Mr Smith and Miss Tyler abandon early 19th century propriety somewhat and have a bit of a risky waltz... (but seriously, these two just wouldn't behave accordingly for the benefit of contextual accuracy. But no one's looking, so that makes it okay.)

Chapter 4

-x-

Miss Tyler was supremely exhausted by the time the clock struck midnight. Usually, she could dance for hours, but then, that was usually with plenty of breaks in between; tonight's no shortage of partners had meant she had been dancing from the beginning of the ball until now, and she took the opportunity to escape to the quiet, dimly lit garden. She was sitting on a wooden bench on the terrace, gazing up at the stars in admiration, when she faintly registered footsteps.

"Miss Tyler," came a voice from behind her.

Miss Tyler stood hastily, a force of habit when someone surprised her, and she whirled around, the hem of her dress fluttering out prettily as she moved to face the owner of the voice.

"Mr Smith," she greeted with a smile, curtseying a little.

"I see you have escaped dancing this number," he observed, walking a few steps towards her.

"I have," she agreed, glancing back through the windows into the ballroom.

"I...I apologise for my behaviour earlier this evening," Mr Smith murmured, staring at the floor.

Miss Tyler was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat. "When I..." He lifted his head to look at her again. "When I was rude... I should have greeted you more...politely. However, I did not know what to say. It was not, as Wilfred thought, our first meeting; I was not sure what you had told your friend, but..."

"No, no, it's fine. In fact, it was perfect," Miss Tyler chuckled. "I told Donna that I'd never seen you before."

He nodded. There was a short silence, before Mr Smith finally said, "Wilfred tells me that you and your mother live here with the Nobles and himself."

She looked back at him with a smile. "Yes, we do. We owe Mr Mott a great amount. He is a good man, and has been very good to us, since my father passed away."

A frown adorned Mr Smith's face. "I'm so sorry to hear that. About your father, I mean, not Mr Mott's kindness."

Her smile widened in a thank you, and Mr Smith wondered at why such a sight made his mouth feel suddenly dry. He had noticed it earlier on in the day, at his first meeting with Miss Rose Tyler; how he found such a great delight in putting this smile on the face of this girl.

"I know for certain now that you are not a serving-girl," he observed then.

"Not that it would have mattered if I was," she reminded him good-humouredly. "In any case, I would be if it were not for Mr Mott taking Mother and I in."

Mr Smith nodded in acknowledgement.

"And besides, I am still of a lowly situation in terms of prospects," she said gravely, but there was a glint in her eyes that let him know she wasn't finding the idea half so serious as she was pretending, or as serious as no doubt others would, in her situation. "Much lower in the food chain than you, so to speak."

His left eyebrow rose at her comment, and he bit back a suggestive retort, remembering their location and the somewhat baffling fact that they had only known each other a single, solitary day. It was far too early to make flirtatious remarks. Far, far too early, in fact, seeing as it would be near impossible for their acquaintance to make any sort of progression forward; he would be leaving Leadworth in a few days anyway, and it wasn't as though he was expecting her to consider him in such a way; he'd watched her as she'd effortlessly danced with several men several times during the course of the evening, offering no time at all at which for him to ask for her hand.

He presumed she exuded this self-confidence and friendliness, this honesty and wit, to everyone she came in contact with; he was no one special in particular, however much she had left an imprint on him in the past few hours. He'd been flattering himself far too much to think that she might feel that same nervousness, that same excitement, around him, as he realised he felt around her.

"Miss Noble, on the other hand," Miss Tyler continued, looking away from him in apparent nonchalance and staring out across the gardens. "She has a much better chance in properly securing herself."

Mr Smith answered the affirmative, took a few steps forward and leant his elbows on the terrace wall, and also took to staring out across the garden. He glanced at the young woman over his shoulder before looking in front of him again. "You, however, have a much better chance of enticing someone in," he murmured.

Miss Tyler smiled in surprise, and joined his side. "I do not think so."

He tilted his head to observe her thoughtfully. "I do."

"No, no. I don't," she insisted, aimlessly sweeping her hand down her dress as if to smooth it out. She found herself unable to meet his eye as she teased, "For I have not auburn hair."

"Gold is much prettier, though," he countered, smiling a little wistfully. "And anyway, you seemed to entice in a great number of gentlemen back there in the ballroom."

Miss Tyler blushed and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in reply.

"Look at all those stars, Rose Tyler," Mr Smith whispered then, unintentionally changing the subject as he looked up at the sky. "Shining so beautifully in the night sky."

Miss Tyler shivered, and subtly moved a little closer to his side, to acquire some of his warmth. "Imagine if you could reach them," she replied softly, and Mr Smith looked down at her in admiration. "See them up close."

"Oh, it would be brilliant," he agreed. "Which one would you pick?" he asked, nudging her arm with his elbow.

She tilted her head on its side, pondering. "That one," she said after a while, pointing at her decided destination. "It shines a bit brighter than the others, don't you think?"

"Yes," he replied, watching her. "Yes, it does."

"I have not yet seen you dance, tonight, Mr Smith," observed Miss Tyler after several minutes of comfortable silence.

He chuckled, and answered, "Weelll, I have not seen you not dance, Miss Tyler."

She smiled to herself. "The ball is nearly over now."

"Yes," he replied. He cleared his throat. "Rose," he murmured.

"Yes, John?" she answered, and they turned to face one another.

"Would you like to - "

"Rose, aha! There you are!" called Mrs Tyler, as she stepped onto the patio. "Oh, hello, Mr Smith!"

He sighed and turned to greet Miss Tyler's mother with a charming smile. "Good evening, Mrs Tyler."

Mrs Tyler smiled back for a moment, her eyes looking him up and down. He shifted awkwardly under her scrutiny. Then, she seemed to shake herself out of her contemplation and addressed her daughter, "Come, come, Rose – inside!"

"Actually, Mother, I'd rather stay out here. I feel...um, quite faint, and I'd like to breathe in the fresh night air."

Mr Smith raised his eyebrows, an amused smile playing on his lips, but Mrs Tyler frowned and said, "Are you well, love?"

"I'll be fine in a moment, don't worry," Miss Tyler assured her warmly. "You go in and enjoy the rest of the ball."

"Very well, but perhaps you should retire to bed and get some rest?"

"I will, shortly. Goodnight, Mother," Miss Tyler insisted.

"Alright, darling. Goodnight." She began to walk back to the doors but paused when she did not hear the gentleman following her. "Are you not coming back in, Mr Smith?"

He hesitated. "Ah..."

"He was just going for a walk, weren't you, Mr Smith?" interrupted Miss Tyler.

"Oh, very well," Mrs Tyler replied, nodding her acceptance. "Goodnight!" She finally went back inside the house.

Mr Smith turned to face Miss Tyler again. "Well, Miss Tyler, you certainly do invent stories rather well."

Miss Tyler smiled elusively and shrugged. "I've had lots of practice. It's the only way to get Mother to leave me alone half the time."

"Ah, yes. I imagine so."

They smiled at each other. "So, what was it you were going to ask me?" Miss Tyler asked Mr Smith.

He tugged at his ear bashfully. "Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to dance, but now you've told your mother these elaborate stories about fainting and walks, I do not think we can go back inside for awhile."

"Then perhaps we shall have to dance out here," she replied cheekily, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth as she smiled.

His eyes widened and he laughed nervously. "If someone saw, they would consider that to be quite..." He trailed off as Miss Tyler stepped closer and took his hand.

"Then we shall hide," she grinned.

She stood on her tiptoes and was about to speak in his ear when instead, he spoke in hers, "Very well, Rose Tyler. Run!"

And then he tugged on her hand and urged her into a sprint which one was not really supposed to do in the shoes and dress she was wearing; but she did not care, and only ran faster. They slowed down when they reached the duck pond, and began to laugh as they tried to catch their breaths. Their hands were still firmly entwined, and Mr Smith looked down at them in dismay all of a sudden as he realised. He did not, however, pull away.

They could still hear the music of the ball, even this far away from the house. "Come on then, Mr Smith," she murmured breathlessly. "Show me your moves."

He raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "We are to dance, are we not?"

"If you wish," he replied, his lips quirking.

"Well, you'll find your feet at the bottom of your legs," she informed him wisely. He chuckled. "You may care to move them," she finished.

"The sorts of dances they are dancing in the ballroom require more than two partners, Rose Tyler," he murmured. "We shall cause such scandal if anyone were to see us."

"We are hiding, remember?" she countered. She placed her free hand on his arm. "Dance with me."

"I'm not very good," he protested, but his arm was already winding its way around her waist, his palm gliding upwards to rest between her shoulder blades. She gasped at the intimate contact, and he stepped closer. During every dance thus far tonight, and indeed, all her life, the closest a gentleman had got to her was a hand loosely in hers; never was it permissible for a man to step so close to her that she could feel the lapels of his jacket touching her chest. She found that it quite thrilled her.

"I don't mind," she answered quietly.

He leant into her until his lips were hovering at her temple and then he whispered, as they began to move slowly to the music, "For me, this was worth the wait though, I can assure you."

Her hand squeezed his shoulder. "Worth the wait?" she whispered.

"Yes," he whispered back, guiding her steps with his leg pressing between hers. They both swallowed hard and pretending to ignore it. "I've been waiting to dance with you all night, but several other gentlemen kept getting in my way."

"Is that so?" she giggled, drawing her head back to look him in the eye.

"Yes, Miss Tyler. It is so."

"And now you are dancing with me quite differently to any other man," she pointed out breathlessly.

"Exactly," he murmured. "That's what I meant by worth the wait, you see."

He spun them around in a quick circle then, and she squealed in surprise. "John!" she exclaimed.

"Rose," he replied, his gaze unwaveringly on her wide, happy smile.

She laughed warmly. "I think we are going to be firm friends," she declared.

"I think so, too," he answered, and he matched her smile with his own.