"I'm not."
"Have you even considered the possibility that you might be?"
"No, because I'm not, I'm not going to give myself bloo — er, wretched hope when I know there is none. I'll not delude myself."
"Then that, my dear brother, is your loss. Your deep and immense loss." Lady Southridge's expression turned to pity, causing Graham's stomach to clench.
Pity. How he hated it.
Especially from his sister.
Without another word, she walked away shaking her head slightly.
Graham released a silent sigh of exasperation and frustration. Lady Southridge was his sister and, as such, was required to have allegiance to him, to think of him better than anyone else. He was family, after all, and blood ran deep. But Graham didn't want to give himself the permission to hope.
Yet that's exactly what he found himself doing.
Hoping.
Because what if she was right.
Wasn't it worth finding out?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bethanny waited anxiously for the supper waltz. She had danced each set, each with a calf-eyed suitor who complimented on her dress, eyes and the grace with which she danced.
One even compared her to a swan.
She was quite certain she could tread the boards and be an actress for all the composure and acting she'd done to accept that compliment with social grace.
It would have been easier if she hadn't just stepped on his toe.
Twice.
Yet still the gentleman insisted on her grace.
It was dreadfully amusing and far less true.
The first strains of the supper waltz began, and Bethanny's gaze darted about, searching for Graham. This was the dance she was waiting for, and as she glanced about the room and didn't see his face, her heart grew heavy with disappointment.
"I believe I am the fortunate recipient of this dance." Graham's honeyed tones breathed softly into her ear from directly behind her.
Barely resisting the temptation to lean into his strong frame, she simply closed her eyes and focused on the nearness of him. As she did, she could feel the slight heat from his body permeating her back, her neck tickling with the softest breeze from his words and the slight smile to his tone.
"And to think I had begun to anticipate the need to search for a different partner," she murmured softly as she turned.
"Never." Graham swore softly. His gaze was deeper, richly filled with something she couldn't quite name. It was captivating, intoxicating, and welcomed her into its secret depths.
"I'll keep that in mind," she whispered.
He held out his hand, and she placed her gloved fingers within reach. With a caressing touch, he closed his fingers over hers, his gaze never leaving her face as it caressed her features.
"Shall we?" he asked, one of his dimples coming into view from the small quirk of his lips.
"Indeed."
Graham led her to the ballroom floor, and with the practiced ease of a thousand waltzes, he led them into the swirling mix of dancers. But it was different than the last time he had waltzed with her. His hand at her waist was firmer in his touch, as if holding her with purpose, without the intention of ever letting go. His arm, outstretched along hers, was perfectly respectable, except his fingers were grasping hers tightly, not painfully so, simply… possessive. And then, he squeezed slightly, running a finger in a soft swirl against the back of her hand.
It was delicious.
And distracting.
She stumbled, earning a grin from her partner.
"Your fault," Bethanny challenged.
"Indeed. Shall I try it again?" he whispered, his eyes taking on a devilish light.
Leaning forward slightly, Bethanny answered, "Yes."
"You'd think I'd be accustomed to your forward nature," Graham remarked with a grin.
"I'd think you'd expect it, given my relationship with your sister," she shot back cheekily.
"Ah, but dear Miss Lamont, that would imply that I thought you in the same context as my sister. And that, I can assure you, is not the case," he whispered meaningfully.
"That is exceedingly good news, my lord."
"Is it?"
"Yes, though I did surmise that information," she replied.
"Oh? Did you now?" he asked with an entertained grin.
"Indeed." She leaned in slightly, as if imparting a great secret. "I don't imagine you kiss your sister like you kissed me."
Graham leaned back, his gaze shocked.
And then he misstepped.
"Now, we're even, my lord."
"Remind me never to enter into a wager with you." He shook his head, though a delighted grin showed off both glorious dimples.
Bethanny barely resisted the urge to sigh. "Ladies do not wager."
"Ah, but didn't you say you were quite close with my sister?" he shot back.
"Yes, but a lady simply guesses, and if she happens to be right, well..." Bethanny shrugged.
"Ah, but that is where you and my beloved sister differ, Miss Lamont."
"Oh?"
"Yes. You see, you said that if a lady happens to be correct, whereas my sister would simply assume she was correct in the first place."
"Ah, I believe you're correct. It seems I have much to learn," she teased.
"Heavens, no. I beg of you." He shot a heavenward glance of desperation then grinned.
The waltz ended, leaving Bethanny with a pang of disappointment. Graham would now take her to Carlotta, bow, and then take his leave. If she were lucky, he'd ask for another dance, but to do so would certainly cause talk.
If only.
Graham released her waist and guided her along the marbled floor, just as she'd anticipated, in the direction of Carlotta. Desperate to keep him for just a few precious moments longer, she glanced about, searching for a reason — valid or not — to keep him close.
But then he turned slightly, leading her toward the balcony.
Her heart soared then beat double-time as she tried to anticipate his reasons. Did he want to kiss her again? Would he kiss her again? Was there any possible way to — aside from brazenly kissing him herself, but her bravery had its limits — get him to consider that option?
"I thought you might enjoy some air."
"Yes, thank you. It's quite a lovely evening, is it not?" Bethanny asked, her tone light in contrast with her rapidly beating heart.
"I have yet to see anything lovelier," Graham spoke softly, and she turned, seeing his gaze focused on her.
Against her better judgment, a bubble of laughter broke through her tense state. "Forgive me." She covered her mouth with her gloved hand, her eyes still smiling with amusement.
"I will do no such thing," Graham rallied, his gaze stern yet slightly taken aback.
"My lord, forgive me, I beg of you. It was poor manners on my part."
"Indeed. However, I must know why you chose to laugh at my sincere compliment," he challenged, his gaze turning warm with amusement.
"Ah, shouldn't a lady have her secrets?"
"No. A lady wouldn't have laughed."
"Are you implying then that I'm no lady?" she shot back in challenge, her lips bending in a teasing grin.
"Yes. Indeed."
"Well, a gentleman wouldn't dare imply such a thing."
"I am no gentleman, it appears. And now that we have successfully ascertained that neither you nor I have any manners or breeding," he challenged then took a step closer, "I demand you tell me why you were laughing at my expense."
"Demand?" Bethanny replied archly.
"Request," Graham amended with a mocking bow.
"Ah, much better." Bethanny spoke through a small laugh. "If you must know, my lord—"
"Edward."
"Excuse me?" Bethanny stilled, her eyes wide with wonder, and her mind racing with the implications of such an informal address.
"Edward, my name. Since we've already dispatched the idea that I'm a gentleman, I insist that you
call me by my Christian name."
"Ah." Bethanny swallowed. After taking a fortifying breath, she felt an adventurous grin take over her previous astonishment. "Then, to be fair, you must address me as Bethanny." She hitched a shoulder.
"To be fair." Graham tilted his head.
"Yes."
"Right then, Bethanny. Do your sisters call you Beth?"
"No, actually." She felt her brow furrow at the tangent their conversation had taken.
"Ah, good. You don't look like a Beth. Bethanny suits you perfectly."
"I'm pleased to know that my parents' decision in regard to my name meets your standard, Edward," she replied, though her heart skipped a beat as she said his name aloud.
"Now, then, Bethanny, you were saying?" Graham asked, taking a slow step forward, his gaze locking with hers so that her mouth went dry, yet her lips trembled with the desire to taste his once more.
Without apology, he tugged her into a darker shadow in a slight alcove on the balcony, away from gossiping eyes. The view was open and vibrant with the last remaining hues of sunset. He stepped away, giving her room to breathe and think.
"I was saying?" she replied breathlessly.
"Yes, the original conversation, on why you found my compliment entertaining. You see, Bethanny, a gentleman takes such an action from a lady to heart. It's impugning to his integrity."
At once she remembered the gentleman who'd compared her to a swan.
And laughed again.
She truly should learn to control her emotions better. But being with Graham, calling him Edward, and teasing him so openly was crumbling every proper behavior in her well-educated social wall.
Graham shook his head in a scolding fashion; his gaze continued to scorch her.
All amusement vanished as she lost herself in his amber gaze.
"Because it… you see, my lord," she took a calming breath then continued, "compliments are wonderful when spoken from the heart, not simply recited pieces of trite prose meant to provoke a response in a lady." Bethanny released a nervous breath, her eyes searching his.
"Oh." His expression was indifferent, yet the lines around his eyes appeared deeper.
The silence continued, so she filled it with nervous chatter. "It was earlier that a gentleman compared my dancing to the grace of a swan in flight. Anyone can see that I'm not particularly graceful. Such a compliment was an insult to my own intelligence and awareness of my personal attributes. I'm not so vain to think myself as perfect or without fault. And I'll admit that your compliment, while I hope, was utterly sincere, sounds like a line from a Gothic novel." She bit her lip and turned to the panoramic line of the London horizon etched in the bright purple and orange hues of sunset.
"I… see."
"It was never my intention to offend you, my lord," Bethanny quickly apologized. She glanced down but didn't turn to face him.
"So, we're back to my lord?" Graham's voice sounded closer, deeper, and she turned, her eyes widening as she saw he had taken two silent steps and brought them practically touching. The fabric of her gown was brushing against the dark coal color of his evening jacket, creating a whisper of sound, a flash of heat crept into her very soul.
"I'm beginning to think you have a secret obsession with lurid novels, Bethanny," Graham teased, his eyes dark and full of mysterious secrets.
"As I've said, I'm not overly concerned with them," Bethanny responded breathlessly.
"You seem to have an unusual knowledge for one so uninterested," he commented. The corner of his lip tipped up slightly.
"Beatrix."
"Pardon?" His eyebrows rose in inquiry.
"My sister, Beatrix. I don't have to read the novels to know about them. My sister explains them in detail over breakfast," she explained, her heart pounding.
"Ah. And, just to alleviate any confusion, I was sincere." He tilted his head slightly as his gaze roamed her features then fixated on her lips.
His gaze was like a caress, and her mouth trembled in response.
"I'm afraid you'll have to explain further," she replied, her own gaze darting about his handsome face. Just a slight step forward, and she'd meet him lip to lip, but desire wasn't a substitute for courage, and though she had been bold in the past, she was still an innocent.
"My compliment," he clarified with a slight grin.
"Then I thank you."
"However, I'll be sure to be more original in the future," he amended softly as he leaned forward.
"In the future?" she asked with a traitorous hope in her voice.
"Oh yes, the future… Bethanny," he whispered. Just as his lips touched hers, he retreated. His warm breath tickled her newly moistened lips and caused them to burn with desire.
"I shouldn't be doing this," he murmured, the movement of his lips brushing against her own in the slightest manner, like a butterfly's wings.
"Yes, yes you should," Bethanny replied boldly, then leaned forward and pressed her lips fully to his.
He groaned as if tortured, but he didn't resist her, rather, pressed deeper into the kiss, sweeping her away in the bliss of his affection. Gently, he guided her backward, small footstep after small footstep. The slight movement barely registered to her as Graham continued to taste, tease, and tutor her mouth to return his kiss. She startled when her back gently met a balustrade to the side of the balcony. Leaning back from the kiss, she glanced up to Graham then around, trying to gather her whereabouts. Somehow he had guided her into the shadow of the corner of the balcony, shielded by a large potted palm. Her gaze sought his.
"I'm not an exhibitionist." Graham shrugged. The simple movement was boyish, shy.
"Not to mention possibly damaging to my reputation," Bethanny added dryly, a grin quirking her swollen lips.
"Perhaps."
She raised a questioning eyebrow.
"However, since we have such a lovely and secluded place, let's not waste it, shall we?" Graham added with a devilish grin, his eyes dark with heated intentions.
"Waste not, want not." Bethanny grinned and met him halfway as he kissed her gently.
But she wanted more. So much more. Without hesitation, she pressed into him, winding her arms around his shoulders and reveling in the steel-like musculature of his back, felt even through his evening wear. His coat was fine wool, soft, and she allowed her greedy fingers to roam his back before settling on shoulders.
His teeth tugged her lower lip, pulling her slightly forward in a playful manner, and she felt herself smile as she continued to return his kiss. Each sensation was so fresh and exhilarating she was sure he could taste her excitement and devotion through their heated exchange, but she didn't have the experience necessary to practice restraint. Rather, she gave herself over to the swirling emotion of first love, of first desire as she began to tease the soft and slightly curling hair at the base of his neck. Tugging slightly, she grinned as he groaned softly, his warm breath fanning against her lips before he took them back with a driving possessive kiss. Emboldened by his reaction, she plunged her hands further into his hair, twisting slightly, feeling a strange empowerment as she felt his kiss grow ever more demanding, more possessive, causing her own heart to beat faster with the heady sensations he created. His hands, which were bracing himself against the stone balustrade, now roamed her arms, gently squeezing. He slipped them behind her back and pulled her in tighter till breathing became gasping with delight. He traced the lines of her back as his hand dipped lower—
"Ah-hem."
Graham released her quickly, his chest rising and falling in quick succession as he spun and hid Bethanny behind his back, protecting her.
And her reputation.
Even with scandal a breath away, she smiled, feeling protected, and dare she think it? Loved?
"Neville." Graham nodded then cleared his throat.
"Lovely evening, is it not?" Neville spoke in a disinterested tone.
"Indeed," Graham answered, his voice tight.
"Since there was a
break in the dancing, I thought to take in the air… I'm sure that there will be many more to follow me in such an idea," Neville spoke pointedly.
Bless the man, Bethanny thought charitably. Quite expertly, he had saved her and Graham from greater danger as, no doubt, others would indeed follow and come to gather some fresh air. Neville was going to be discreet. Few others would have. And as much as the idea of Graham being trapped into marriage had its appeal — and after that kiss, she was as good as compromised — she wanted him to want to marry her, not be obligated to do so.
"Thank you." Graham nodded, his tone far softer.
Neville didn't respond, but the sound of his retreating footsteps let her know he was leaving.
Graham sighed heavily then turned, his shoulders slightly hunched from their proud position earlier.
"That… was far too close for comfort," Graham said, then ran his fingers through his hair, settling it from her earlier attentions. "However, I do not think he saw who you were, since you were in the shadows. You must take care, Bethanny." Graham's golden eyes grew concerned.
"I'm sure Lord Neville will not say—"
"It's not that. While I believe that Neville is a gentleman, I cannot claim a close acquaintance with the man. What I'm trying to say is… simply use caution. If Neville is a scoundrel, and he ascertained your identity, he will likely think that you share your… charms… liberally."
"Pardon?" Bethanny was aghast.
"Bethanny." Graham spoke softly and reached down to grasp her hands. The heat from his touch warmed the fear that had begun to grow within her. "Innocents do not kiss… like this," he finished. "And while it pleases me to no end that you are so passionate, someone else might mistake your… fervor… and try to use it to their advantage."
"Oh. So if I kiss one gentleman, some would think that I'd kiss any gentleman?"
"Precisely."
"That's rot." She pulled he hands out from his and fisted her palms.
Graham chuckled. "I couldn't agree more. But sadly, it's the truth."
"Just because I kiss you doesn't mean—"
"You know that, and I… hope… that…" he teased.
Bethanny swatted at him.
"Ouch."
"Liar."
To Tempt an Earl Page 11