Both ladies curtsied, and Lady Frederica actually lifted her head rather swiftly—something that seemed out of character, to Stephen’s mind. She was usually so nervous.
Is it me, or are she and Allan looking at one another rather intently?
They both looked away sharply.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
“Oh, God, what are you doing to me?” Stephen muttered under his breath, lowering his glass of claret to get a better look at Dorothy.
It was the night of the ball and more than just Lady Webster’s house guests had gathered. People from all over the county of Hampshire had gathered for the event. Decked for spring, every surface was covered in yellow daffodils, the color sparkling in the light of the flickering candles that flooded the rooms.
Ladies dressed in pastel gowns fluttered fans in front of their faces, trying to draw attention to the flattering fits of their dresses and the way their hair was styled. The gentlemen had mostly slicked-back hair, all standing rigidly, apart from Allan, who always took a much more relaxed stance as he talked with some of the other gentlemen nearby.
Stephen took no part in their conversation. His eyes were trained on Dorothy as she walked into the room.
You’re always different from any other lady I know, Dorotheo.
Rather than dressing in the fashionable pastel hues, she had chosen a rich Pomona-green gown. It brought out the hue of her eyes perfectly. She was self-conscious of the gown and fidgeted with the skirt, though it suited her quite perfectly as it was,andshe did not need to fidget. She walked forward, her hair a little tamer than it usually was, though a few loose curls betrayed its nature to be unruly.
Stephen couldn’t stop the images from filling his head. He imagined himself trailing a hand through that hair and thought of leaning toward Dorothy, finding her lips with his own. He imagined the kiss and how it would feel, the taste of her. Would she kiss him back with softness? Or would she put passion into it, as she did with everything in her life?
“Stephen?”
“God’s blood.” Stephen whipped around, pressing a hand to his chest in surprise as his heart leaped in his throat.
“Surprised you, didn’t I?” Allan laughed at his side. “Come with me to talk to the ladies. They know you better, by now.”
Stephen followed Allan, and they walked toward Lady Charlotte and Lady Frederica. Stephen constantly glanced back at Dorothy, expecting her to join them, but she did not. She went alone to the refreshments table, where she poured herself a glass of punch.
There was something about her isolation in that busy room that made him even more eager to go to her. It was one of the reasons Dorothy hadn’t wanted to come to Lady Webster’s house in the first place. He knew that without her having to tell him. She feared she did not belong here.
“Ah, how are you tonight, Lady Frederica, Lady Charlotte?” Allan began.
Stephen did his duty, as always, and joined in the conversation, paying particular attention to Lady Frederica, who responded to both his and Allan’s questions. He rather thought that if he kept talking to Lady Frederica, Dorothy would come and interrupt them.
Where is she?
She was still standing alone. She watched him with Lady Frederica over the rim of her punch glass, though.
She’s no longer sabotaging my endeavors to find a wife. Is she not bothered about our wager anymore?
For some reason that he could not put his finger on, it made him angry. He wanted to do something outrageous, to make Dorothy come and interrupt their conversation at once. He considered asking Lady Frederica to dance, despite his aversion to dancing in general, just to see her reaction.
Then, something changed.
Lord Chilmond was walking toward Dorothy.
“Excuse me,” Stephen said to the others without thinking. He put his glass of wine on a nearby table, not bothering to glance back and see the effect his rather hurried departure had on Allan and the ladies. He kept his focus on Dorothy and the small smile she offered Lord Chilmond as he approached.
“You are quite beautiful tonight, Lady Dorothy.” Lord Chilmond’s words reached Stephen’s ears when he was just a couple of strides away.
“Thank you. That is very kind.” Dorothy lifted her punch glass to her lips once more, seeming completely distracted.
“I was wondering if your dance card is empty—”
“Dorothy’s dance card is taken for this next number.” Stephen stepped toward them. The lie slipped easily off his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dorothy’s jaw slacken, in complete outrage at what he was doing. “If you would excuse us.”
He offered his hand to Dorothy. Knowing her, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had thrown the contents of her punch glass all over him and swiped his hand away, but she did no such thing. She put down her glass and took his hand, though he soon realized why, for she spoke very quickly and hurriedly under her breath.
