“I am not sure I understand your meaning, My Lord.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, and she almost laughed at herself for such a silly and frivolous gesture. She could imagine all too easily what his grace might have said were she dancing with him instead.
Stop thinking of him!she ordered herself. Lord Greystone was a perfect gentleman. He deserved her full attention. She was not about to let his grace get in the way of this.
“Come now, My Lady,” Lord Greystone insisted. “You are the diamond of the Season, I am certain of it.”
Cecelia’s breath caught in her throat. Clearing it, she responded, “I am not certain I would go as far as to say that, My Lord.”
“You are much too modest, My Lady,” Lord Greystone said, as Cecelia found herself glancing over his shoulder once more.
As she did, she caught the eye of his grace, their gazes locking for only a moment before she quickly drew her attention away.
Yet, in that single glance, she felt something stir inside her, something frightening.
“I … I should think there are many young ladies in attendance tonight, My Lord, who are better suited to such a title,” she said, trying her utmost to focus upon their conversation.
No matter how she tried, she couldn't help sensing his grace as their dancing drew them all closer.
In passing, she met his grace's gaze once more and felt a shiver run the length of her spine.
The ease with which she had been in attendance seemed to vanish, and suddenly, the room felt utterly too small.
As if she had paled, Lord Greystone asked, “Are you well, My Lady?”
For a second, Cecelia was unable to find her voice.
She ought to have been desperately angry at his grace for pulling her attention away from Lord Greystone, but suddenly her closeness to the lord was not nearly so inviting as it had been before.
“Yes,” she said, perhaps a little too firmly, and Lord Greystone’s brow arched.
“Perhaps your tolerance for dancing has come to an end, My Lady?” he suggested, and she realized that perhaps he was right.
All she wished to do was run from the dance floor.
Yet, she smiled and assured him, “I am most content to dance with you, My Lord.”
All the while they danced, she felthispresence, and it was utterly distracting. Though she had not a clue as to why he suddenly affected her so.
Perhaps it was the look in his eye, the softness with which he gazed at her, the expression that was not nearly so cold as it had been before.
And a part of her wished to question him as to why.
She was most relieved when the dance finally came to an end and the dance partners retired to the edge of the floor.
Her feet ached, her muscles were tense, and her mind was utterly confused.
Something had changed, though she was uncertain as to what.
And when yet another gentleman came to offer her a dance, she found herself declining in favour of needing some air.
The ballroom had become stuffy. She felt dizzy with the closeness of its patrons, her heart beating unbelievably fast, and though she tried not to hurry, her feet carried her swiftly from the room.
Out on the terrace, she firmly gripped the balustrade to compose herself, her eyes firmly closed.
The cool air of the evening was a tender kiss against her feverish flesh, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Lady Cecelia?”
