by Amelia Grey
He might have been busy with others in the room as the evening progressed, but so was she. He hadn’t failed to notice where she was at all times. And who she was with. She’d glanced his way a few times too. When two people were interested in each other, there was no easy way to hide it. Though she continued to try.
Her attire was modest compared to most of the ladies’, but her elegance was unsurpassed. Her gown was such a deep shade of blue, he’d first thought she wore black. When he detected the variance, he realized the subdued color enhanced the beauty of her hair and ivory complexion. There was a swath of cream-colored lace at the cuffs of her long sleeves but no garnish in her hair or hanging from her ears. A short, single strand of pearls adorned the neckline of her gown.
When she wasn’t talking to someone or dancing, as had happened three times since he’d been there, she seated herself alongside the wall with other ladies who watched the dancers and chatted happily among themselves. He kept thinking she didn’t belong there, among the women who, for whatever reason, had given up thought, hope, or desire of marrying.
It was up to him to let her know her destiny wasn’t there. No time like the present to do that.
He straightened and set off in her direction. As he drew closer, he felt as if every pair of eyes in the room were focused on him. It was as if they all had been waiting for him to seek her out, so they could witness her response. It was his idea to go public with this pursuit. The chatter around him lowered as he passed. He didn’t mind. There was no reason for him to complain about the open display. It was of his own making.
Zane kept his gaze firmly on Mrs. Feld as he headed to the far wall where she was sitting. He didn’t allow anyone’s movements or talking to distract him until he stood in front of her.
When she looked up at him, his stomach tightened, and his senses stirred restlessly. Damnation, he had no doubts he’d made the right choice in choosing her. His gaze did a slow, detailed sweep of her beautiful face before centering on her bright blue eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw surprise in their depths. Surely, she knew he would approach her before the evening was over.
He bowed. “Mrs. Feld. It’s good to see you again.”
She glanced about cautiously, rose, and curtsied. “My lord.”
He reached for her gloved hand and the second his fingers closed around hers, he felt a deep, rousing hunger shudder through him. He knew then she heated his blood like no other woman ever had. In the candlelight her eyes were captivating. He gave her the accepted, formal kiss on the back of her palm and then moved between her and the row of ladies behind her to give them a degree of privacy.
“Would you join me for this next dance?” he asked.
She inhaled deeply before saying, “And further more gossip about us? No, my lord, I believe you’ve done quite enough without any help from me, and I don’t think it would be in my best interest to accept.”
Her response wasn’t completely unexpected, so he took no offense. He relented with a smile. “All right. I suppose I deserved that rebuff after the wager.”
“Yes, and much more. After what I’ve been through the past three days, were I capable of calling you out, I probably would have.”
Her saucy response made him chuckle softly. He gave her a nod of appreciation. “I believe you, and I’m a lucky man you can’t. You would be a formidable opponent. I have a feeling you’ll find a way of getting even with me.”
“I’ve considered it and wish I could,” she said adamantly. “However, it’s your good fortune I wouldn’t dare stoop so low.”
She was still angry with him, and with just cause. Yet even in her ire, there was a softness and gentleness about her that drew him.
“I’m glad to see my ill behavior hasn’t kept you from enjoying yourself this evening.”
“No, it hasn’t,” she said, confidently lifting her chin. “You seem surprised that is the case.”
“I’m delighted. You’re a strong lady. I had no doubt you would carry on as normal.”
“Normal?” she asked with a breath of extreme exasperation. Her gaze focused tightly on his as she took a step toward him, seeming not to care that everyone was watching. “Really, my lord? You don’t know the half of it, so don’t tell me you are delighted about anything concerning me.”
He noticed her hands made fists at her sides. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“What was? You have completely disrupted my orderly life in the most tumultuous way possible. Because of you I’ve had a steady stream of ladies calling on me to make sure I haven’t taken to a sick bed over this wager you made. Some have sent baskets of flowers and others boxes of sweet confections to cheer me. I’ve received packages of handkerchiefs, which I can only assume they felt I needed from all the crying I must be doing over your arrogant machinations. An anonymous person sent me an essay on Ophelia—of all things. Even the vicar paid me a visit to ask about my welfare. That you have the nerve to think I’m carrying on as normal is outrageous.”
She was magnificent!
Her words and tone were heartfelt. He could almost taste her anger. By the time she’d finished, a flush had heightened her face with indignation. It made her stunning. If they had been alone, he would have caught her up to his chest and kissed her, giving an outlet for all the passion pent up inside her. And there was plenty of it. But since they were far from alone, he offered the truth instead.
“I didn’t stop to think of the many different ways this might affect your life.”
“Indeed!” She almost gasped after saying the word.
“I’m sorry for that, but not for making the wager.”
Disbelief danced in her bright eyes and made her all the more tempting. “I can’t believe you can say that so seriously. What kind of gentleman would do what you did?”
“A gentleman wouldn’t,” he answered with ease.
“Exactly! Because of you, we’re the talk of Society. Everyone has been looking at us and whispering about us all night, as they are doing right now. You are right. Manners and respect are taught, not born. You do need someone to teach you how to be a proper gentleman, but it won’t be me. Now, excuse me, my lord, but we are finished.”
She turned away from him and sat back down in the row of ladies, all of whom were giving him the evil eye.
Tension flashed through him at her abrupt dismissal. His eyes narrowed, but then he looked at the beautiful curve of her lips set in a firm line, the satiny appearance of her skin and pillow-soft swell of her breasts beneath her widow’s gown. Despite the prim exterior, he knew she was a deeply passionate woman and he wanted her.
No. He wouldn’t give up. Not for anything in the world. He hadn’t realized it until he saw her again, but she’d left him with a need that no other woman ever had.
She may not be aware of it, but she was a temptress, a curious mix of defiance and vulnerability. He understood that, accepted it, and could deal with it.
On the other hand, Zane had played enough cards to know there were times when you needed to cut your losses and save what you had for another game. Reluctantly, he would have to do that now—difficult as it was.
Mrs. Feld was more than mildly upset with him about the wager and that made her as enticing as seeing a piece of spice cake on Christmas morning. Her vigor and fervor were seductive. He was going to relish every moment he spent with her. He wanted her to see him as the man she wanted to make her life complete.
As angry as she was with him, that wasn’t going to be easy to do.
Chapter 6
Zane had lost the first battle, but the night wasn’t over. He nodded once to Mrs. Feld, turned, and started walking away. The crowd that had somehow inched around them parted as he strode away. A few of them were close enough to have heard some of what she had to say. They could guess the rest.
“That didn’t go well,” Uncle Hector said, coming up beside him almost immediately.
“I don’t need you walking with me, Uncle. I’m quite capable o
f handling the rejection of a lady refusing to dance with me.”
“Oh, I know that. I only wanted to remind you, I tried to tell you she wasn’t one you should court. There are more than a dozen ladies who would accept a proposal from you tonight. Best you put her and thoughts of winning your wager aside and get on to a young lady who’s looking for a husband. I have two more in mind.”
“It seems you don’t know me well, Uncle,” Zane offered, with no irritation at the man’s lack of understanding. Mrs. Feld was the one he wanted. “I always play to win and the game’s just started.”
“You are usually playing against a man,” Hector offered, struggling to keep up with Zane’s longer stride.
“Are you suggesting ladies don’t play fair, Uncle?”
“Certainly not. Though some do make that claim. I’m suggesting if it’s a widow you want to marry, look more closely at Mrs. Pinewiffle. She’s not as lovely as Mrs. Feld, but she’s younger and I think she’ll be more accommodating to your marriage proposal. She appears healthy enough to give you as many sons as you want.”
“I’ll keep that suggestion in mind,” Zane said as Sylvester appeared at his other side.
“If you were trying to keep the gossip going about you and Mrs. Feld, congratulations,” he said. “That was an excellent way to do it. Most of us couldn’t hear all of what was said, but we could see well enough to know she was giving you a dressing down you won’t soon forget.”
And a fiery, delicious one it was, Zane thought and then chuckled. He didn’t want to forget it. He wanted to relish it. All her outrage did was heat his blood more for her.
“Uncles,” Zane said and stopped walking to look at them. “You’re both acting as if this is the first time a lady has declined to dance with me.”
“It probably is,” Sylvester offered without a hint of a smile. “Perhaps if you sent her flowers instead of wagers, she’d be more affable.”
A server walked by and Zane stopped him. Grabbing two glasses of champagne for his uncles and then one for himself, he said, “No more lectures or suggestions. This is a ball. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
And Zane did. For at least another hour he danced, talked, and laughed among the other guests. As did Mrs. Feld. But he soon found himself drinking yet another glass of champagne and contemplating a second request for a dance with her.
“Lord Blacknight.”
Zane didn’t recognize the voice, but he did the man when he turned to see the well-respected Earl of Lyonwood behind him. Lyon was the husband of one of Mrs. Feld’s best friends. Zane didn’t know the tall, broad-shouldered man standing beside Lyon, but it was a safe bet he was the husband of Mrs. Feld’s other good friend.
He didn’t think Mrs. Feld had said a word about him to the men standing before him. However, she’d probably talked to their wives at length after he’d seen them at her house a few days ago. And they had probably talked to their husbands. He appreciated the men’s show of force in approaching him and didn’t mind. As long as all they were doing was letting him know they were around in case Mrs. Feld needed them.
A breath of a smile lifted the corner of Zane’s mouth. They must have noticed him watching Mrs. Feld and assumed, rightly so, he was contemplating asking her to dance one more time before the evening ended.
“Lord Lyonwood,” Zane said, dipping his chin in proper greeting. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Welcome back to London, even though the circumstances for your return weren’t what you would have wanted.”
“That’s true,” Zane said honestly, and looked at the man standing beside Lyon.
“May I present Mr. Garrett Stockton?” Lyon asked.
May I present was a fraction of the manners and protocol of Society life Zane would prefer to ignore. He’d much rather have someone say the more informal have you met and not be so damned proper. But Lord Lyonwood had always known how to be a gentleman.
Though he’d never met Stockton, Zane had heard about him and had a great deal of respect for the man, who had been known as an adventurer. He shook off the trappings of gentlemanly life for a time and traveled the seas to distant lands. Zane admired that kind of courage and free-thinking. He wouldn’t mind talking to him about his adventures over a glass of brandy.
“Yes, Mr. Stockton,” Zane offered with a nod. “I don’t think our paths have ever crossed, but I’ve heard of you and the success of your company. I trust all is well.”
“I’ve had good winds and fair seas as the old sea dogs like to say.”
“No doubt. I’ve never sailed the distances you have, Mr. Stockton, but I might want to do that one day. I’ve heard you’ve been to the East.”
“Singapore. It’s a long voyage and not for anyone who wasn’t sure he could spend a lot of time on the close quarters of a ship.”
“Understood. I have no doubt it’s a fascinating country and worth the length of the journey for those who can endure it.”
“I’d be happy to talk more with you about it anytime, and it’s Garrett, if you would prefer.”
Zane nodded, appreciating Garrett’s friendly manner. The more protocols he could dispense with, the better. Courtesy to your fellow man didn’t have to be as rigid as Society made it.
“Do you expect to be in London for all of the Season?” Lyon asked.
“That’s my plan,” Zane answered.
“Good. As you have probably heard, I have a card club that meets at my house once a week. We’re short a player this year. I wanted to invite you to join us if you have an interest.”
Zane held his surprise in check. All esteemed gamesters and common gamblers alike had heard about Lord Lyonwood’s distinguished card club. Most of them would pay heavily for a chance to play with any of the members. Lyon’s father, the Marquis of Marksworth, was one of them and greatly respected not only in Society but all of London too. Being invited to join the earl’s group would certainly make his uncles happy. They’d much rather see him playing cards in a home with titled gentlemen than the rowdy gaming hells near Bond Street. Zane was comfortable playing anywhere. So, hell yes, he welcomed this invitation. This news, and the fact he was pursuing Mrs. Feld, should go a long way in settling down the family a bit more.
“We usually start at half past two on Thursdays,” Lyon continued calmly, showing no sign of being affronted when Zane didn’t immediately answer. “We keep it friendly but lively enough to appreciate the afternoon.”
“I’ve heard a few stories,” Zane answered, wondering if Lyon had issued the invitation for the sole purpose of keeping an eye on him since he was pursuing Mrs. Feld. Zane was all right with that too. He would have done the same if their roles were reversed.
Lyon quirked his head and studied Zane. “So have I. Not all of them are true.”
Zane smiled. “I didn’t think they were.”
“Can I count on you to join us?”
“I can manage that. Good of you to ask.”
From the corner of his eye, Zane saw Mrs. Feld walking toward the entrance. He didn’t know if she was leaving, but didn’t want to take the chance. He wanted to talk to her again. “Gentlemen, if you’ll both excuse me. I was about to ask someone to dance.”
His pursuit of the widow might have been started only to help settle his family’s jitters about the kind of earl he’d be. That changed fast after meeting with her earlier in the week. There was real desire for her in his quest. He hadn’t expected to get caught up with her so quickly, but she had filled his thoughts with an eager excitement he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. Obtaining the attention of a lady he was interested in had never been a problem. Mrs. Feld had already proven she would not dutifully fall in line as so many others had.
The ton loved drama and gossip more than anything, and Zane was about to give it to them in spades. He’d never been known for his self-restraint, and there was no reason to curb what came naturally to him tonight.
After having set his glass on a table, he caugh
t up beside Mrs. Feld. She didn’t slow her step or look over at him, but there was no doubt she stiffened when she realized he was walking with her.
“I heard the call for a dance,” he said casually.
“Did you?” she said coolly.
“Would you join me for this one?”
Brina stopped and faced him. Her big, beautiful eyes narrowed, and a tiny wrinkle formed in her forehead. “I can’t believe you’re asking again.”
Obviously, time and the champagne he’d seen her sip hadn’t smoothed her ruffled feathers. He didn’t think she’d expected him to ask a second time. Most men wouldn’t if turned down once in an evening, but that was another one of those accepted rules Zane had never followed.
Everything about Mrs. Feld intrigued him. When he looked at her, there was an aura about her that had nothing to do with her beauty, sophistication, or her past experiences. But it was there, and it drew him. She didn’t cower from his nearness but casually looked around the room, as if hoping no one was watching her converse with him. But of course, everyone had directed their attention to the two of them, even if most pretended not to.
He remained relaxed as he took a slow, small step closer to her. “Did you really expect I wouldn’t?”
“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed more. “You should never ask a lady to dance twice in the same evening. Especially if she turns you down the first time.”
“I’m not like most men, Mrs. Feld.”