Wallflower (Old Maids' Club, Book 1)

by Catherine Gayle

  “Indeed, he should.”

  They were separated again, and moved in and out between the dancers on either side of them. In one pass, Lord Devonport’s probing blue eyes caught hers and held. Tabitha smiled in return—sly and beguiling, or so she hoped. She wanted him to see what he had lost. What he could never have. His gaze pierced her, and she nearly lost her footing from the penetrating need she found in them. Then she turned away from him and back to Lord Leith.

  “Devonport can’t take his eyes off you,” he commented. “Nor, it seems, can almost any man present.”

  “I suppose I shall be the subject of drawing room conversation tomorrow.”

  Lord Leith laughed, a rich, deep sound. “Tomorrow. Next week. Perhaps most of a month. The shade of your gown alone is enough to keep them talking for days.”

  Oh, lud. “Do you really think it will go on so long?” No, it didn’t matter. Tabitha was no shrinking wallflower any more. Never again. If they wanted to talk about her, let them talk.

  “That depends,” Lord Leith said, but he did not elaborate in time. The dance separated them again, and she twirled about, drawing near Lord Devonport.

  His eyes pierced her with their ardor, the blue of them turning the color and heat of intense flame. Tabitha’s heart felt like it had leapt to somewhere in the vicinity of her chin and tingles coursed over her skin everywhere his scrutiny traveled. And travel it did. His eyes roved over her gown, from top to bottom, examining every minute detail. They landed on the bodice of her gown and Tabitha felt her breathing increase. When finally he raised his gaze and met her own, she thought she might grow overheated from his torrid stare.

  “Are you well?” Lord Leith asked as they drew together again. “Your skin seems flushed.”

  “Flushed?” Hotter than the sun might be more apt. “No, I’m quite all right.”

  He winked at her. “Very well. It seems our set has come to a close.” Had it really? Already? Tabitha hadn’t noticed. “Shall I return you to your brother, or would you prefer to go to Miss Faulkner?”

  Tabitha didn’t have a chance to answer. Three other gentlemen acquaintances had flocked to her side, each entreating her for a dance. She granted Lord Villiers the next set, Lord Fairweather the set after that, and Lord Kinloss requested her hand for the first waltz. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced four sets in a single night.

  Once she had each of them marked on her dance card, Lord Villiers led her back out to the floor to begin their set...just in the nick of time, too, since Lord Devonport had deposited Miss Jennings at her mother’s side and was making his way over to her. She didn’t know his purpose, but it didn’t matter. He would have to wait.

  Tabitha had gentlemen to dance with.

  ~ * ~

  Torture. Sheer and utter torture. That was what Lady Tabitha was putting Noah through tonight.

  Her gown was molten fire—the most delectable and scandalous shade of red he’d seen an unmarried, genteel woman wear in all his thirty-one years. For the first time since he’d known her, she wore the latest trend in fashion, a gown cut low enough he’d wager one could see straight down to her toes if one were tall enough and looked down. If the generous bosom virtually pouring out of the top weren’t enough, a strand of rubies strung its way down into the cleft between her breasts, pulling at his eyes as though they weren’t already drawn there. Noah wanted to trace his tongue there, too, to taste the sweetness of her skin. It was the only time in his life he could ever recall being jealous of a piece of jewelry.

  By Jove, he’d been hard since the moment he saw her dancing with Leith, and there seemed little hope for relief.

  Every time he saw her, he wanted her more. During one set, Fairweather took her to the refreshment table and she looked up at him with a sultry laugh upon her lips and her silver eyes sparkling in the gentle glow of candlelight, twirling one of the soft, brown curls about her finger next to her bosom.

  Later, when she waltzed with Kinloss, she looked relaxed in his arms to the point of moving her body closer to the man than she had with Noah a mere two weeks prior. Kinloss’s hand at Lady Tabitha’s waist squeezed—just a trifle—and Noah choked down a groan.

  “It’s the supper dance,” Shelton said, coming up behind him. “Kinloss will be the one to take her in.” He clapped Noah on the shoulder and looked at him questioningly. “So? When is your set with her?”

  “I haven’t been able to ask her yet. Every time one dance partner finishes with her, she’s surrounded by a dozen more, all clamoring for her attention.” It was killing him. Slowly. Painfully.

  Shelton cursed beneath his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering in his sister’s direction. “It’s that damned gown. She’s never dressed like that before. I don’t know what’s come over her.”

  Whatever had come over her, Noah wouldn’t complain—apart from the ever-present stiffness currently begging for attention inside his trousers. “I think there is more at play than just her gown. It’s her entire deportment. She’s more animated than I have ever seen her in public.”

  Tabitha was virtually glowing from some sort of inner poise, illuminating everyone and everything around her in the process. With this sort of bearing, it was no wonder that numerous men were drawn to her. She shone like the North Star for a sailor, pointing him home.

  “Yes,” Shelton replied. He shuffled his feet. “Well. I suppose that could be. You’d be a better judge of that than me, I’m afraid.”

  “You can’t bother to take notice of something such as that in your own sister?”

  “That’s exactly the problem. She’s my sister.” Shelton looked over to the dais where the orchestra had signaled the impending end of the dance. “I don’t particularly care for having gentlemen looking at her the way they are tonight.” Noah raised a brow. Shelton didn’t seem to mind his lust-filled looks at Lady Tabitha. “You’re different. You’re already family. I don’t feel as hostile toward you in general. I already know your motives.”

  “As does she. Lady Tabitha is not as receptive as you are to the reason for my attention. Or at least one of my reasons.”

  The musicians played the last strains of the waltz, and the dancers cleared the floor to move in to the dining room for supper. Shelton put out a hand to stop Noah as he made to follow them. “You need to make her understand the rest of your reasons. We can all see what you feel for her. What she feels for you. It’s obvious to everyone around you even if it isn’t to the pair of you.”

  Noah felt ready to rip out his hair in frustration. “How can I do that if I can’t even pull her aside to speak with her for a moment?”

  Shelton’s shrewd eyes followed his sister and Kinloss as they slipped from the room. “After supper. I’ll come up with a plan to send her off on her own. Watch for it. And follow.”

  Just what Noah needed: yet another moment where Lady Tabitha’s brother played a hand in things. She would recognize her brother’s participation in an instant. But desperate times and all that. Noah nodded and then followed the congregating throng.

  ~ * ~

  Tabitha could hardly believe how auspiciously her plan had worked out. She had already danced four sets tonight, and her dance card for the rest of the evening was nearly full. And not a single one of these gentlemen were fortune hunters. They all talked and laughed with her, and had seemed genuinely interested in her during their interactions. Could it have been this easy all along?

  Lord Kinloss pulled out her chair to assist her up after supper. “I had a lovely time, Lady Tabitha. Am I too late to secure another dance with you this evening? I fear I might have to wait until the next ball.”

  A second dance? Surely he was jesting. But the expression she found in his warm, brown eyes, square jaw, and thin lips was sincere. “I believe I still have one open, my lord.” Tabitha reached for the card hanging from her wrist, but Toby slipped in behind her and startled her before she could fully sort it out.

  “My apologies, Kin
loss,” he said, “but I’m afraid I must kidnap my sister for a moment. Do excuse us.” He started to pull her away before she could argue with him.

  “Of course, Shelton,” Lord Kinloss replied. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Tabitha.” He dropped into a bow before coming up with a sleek smile.

  Tabitha could do no more than dip her head briefly. “My lord,” she said, then turned her attention to her brother. “What in God’s name has gotten into you?” she whispered forcefully. “This is ridiculous.”

  “You ought to thank me. Perhaps you will later, when you realize I’ve rescued you from sudden calamity.”

  “I hardly think accepting a second dance with a gentleman such as Lord Kinloss could qualify as calamity,” Tabitha huffed. Her brother tugged even more forcefully on her arm, pulling her away from the crush and into a secluded hallway. She’d had enough of his high-handed manner of late. With a heave, she pulled her arm free from his grip. “Enough!”

  Toby faced her and frowned. “The calamity to which I referred has nothing to do with Kinloss, sister dear. It has everything to do with a rip in the back of your gown. I saw it when you stood, and thought to assist you before anyone else noticed.”

  “Oh,” was all she could manage. Would Toby truly seek to assist her in such a way? Usually he would delight in her looming downfall, or so she had thought.

  “Oh, indeed. I believe you’ll find the ladies’ retiring room if you continue along this hall and turn right at the end. I’ll find Jo and send her to help you.”

  Damn and blast, she hated having to thank her twin for anything. He was just so smug about everything. But he likely had saved her from utter disaster. “Thank you,” she finally said, though it pained her somewhat to do so.

  “You’re welcome. Now hurry along.” Toby turned and headed down the hallway back toward where they had come from.

  But she had promised Lord Brackly the next set. He would surely be looking for her. “Toby,” Tabitha called out, and he stopped. “Will you please find Lord Brackly, too?”

  “Your next dance partner?” he drawled. Why did he have to sound so surly about it? She thought he was trying to marry her off. “I’ll let him know you’ve had a minor emergency, but nothing he should worry himself about.” Then he was off again, loping away with long strides.

  Tabitha started down the long hallway again, heading in the direction Toby had indicated for her. She was halfway to the end when the rushed clopping of a man’s heavy boots against the marble floors echoed behind her. Why was Toby coming back so soon? She turned to ask him just that as the sound nearly reached her, but it wasn’t Toby.

  Lord Devonport closed the distance between them until he stood close enough she could feel the heat of his body and the scent of his cologne tickled her nose. His breath fanned over her face, brushing back the curls that surrounded her. His eyes had taken on that fiery radiance again, blazing down upon her in the faint light of the torchieres that lined the hall. The ever-present smile he always seemed to wear was gone, supplanted by a resolute set to his mouth that made his smooth-shaven jaw seem stronger, more unyielding. His boyish look remained, but something wilder, less gentle, had taken its place.

  He looked like a man unleashed. She had seen such a look in a man’s eyes before. But not in many years. She never thought to see it again.

  Against her will, Tabitha shivered, even as an intense warmth spread through her body, starting with her stomach and moving outward. Downward, to the secret places of her womanhood. Upward, making her breasts feel full and taut and needy. All just from a look. “May I help you, my lord?” Strangled. Her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears. Blast, why could he always do that to her?

  ~ * ~

  He couldn’t have answered her question even if he had wanted to. Noah stood there, staring at Lady Tabitha as if she were a fountain and he a man dying of thirst. He wanted to drink from her. He wanted to taste her sweetness and bask in her radiance.

  He wanted to kiss her. Needed to.

  There seemed no way to stop himself, not when she looked up at him with eyes harboring the power of a storm cloud deep within their depths and luscious lips quivering beneath his gaze. Not when she smelled like warm peaches and woman, with just a hint of spice. Not when the heat of her body pulled him closer, threatening to overwhelm him and destroy any ability to think he once owned.

  She took in a sharp breath of air. Her overfilled lungs pushed her bosom up until it almost met his chest as he lowered his head. And then his lips were on hers, and hers yielded to him, and he was lost.

  Her lips were soft and full and moist. Noah started out trying to be tender with her, but she kissed him back and he couldn’t contain his fervor. He fisted one hand in the curls at the nape of her neck and placed the other at her waist, pulling her closer until nothing remained between them aside from their clothing. Her breasts, full and firm, pressed into his ribs, and it took everything he had within him not to tear back the bodice of her gown and bury his face in the lush valley between them.

  She whimpered softly and took hold of his lapels with both hands, pulling herself higher, closer, rising up to the tips of her toes to meet him. That was all the invitation he needed. Noah tilted her head to the side and parted her lips with his tongue, and he delved into the enthralling moist heat she offered.

  Lady Tabitha did not kiss like a maiden; there no hesitancy, no bungling indecision or tenuous pecking. She joined his tongue with her own, stroking with an enthusiasm that sent a shock straight between his legs. His erection was pressing into her stomach—surely she felt him pulsating against her.

  Noah’s hands moved as if of their own accord, sliding down her sleek arms and up the silky fabric covering her sides. His thumbs rested just below her breasts for a moment before he slipped them higher until he could cup her breasts in his palms. The tips hardened beneath his touch; she moaned into his mouth when he squeezed gently. He left her mouth to trail kisses along the hollow of her cheeks, down the incline of her neck, along the length of her collarbone.

  Her breaths came in shallow, ragged surges as he skimmed his tongue to the hollow between her breasts. “Oh. Oh, my,” she said on a sigh. Noah kneaded the flesh in his hands through the slippery silk fabric. Then suddenly she jolted to attention, pulling away from him and leaving him bereft. “Stop. Stop that immediately,” she hissed. Her eyes grew wide, and she jerked her head to the side with a finger held to her lips.

  Footsteps clicked and echoed in the vast, empty hall coming from the direction she had indicated. Noah backed away and straightened his lapels. His cravat had somehow come loose, but there was no chance he could correct that without his valet’s assistance. Lady Tabitha smoothed her hands over her gown and fussed with her hair—a task he doubted her ability to correct without a maid’s assistance. He’d done significant damage to her coiffure.

  The footsteps came to a halt, but there was still no sign of anyone else in the hallway with them. Noah kept as still as he could, so as not to make any undue sound. He wanted to marry Lady Tabitha, certainly. But he had no intention of trapping her into a marriage or forcing her hand. He wanted her to agree to it. He wanted her to want it. After experiencing the degree of ardor with which she returned his kiss, he finally thought she might. After a few moments, the steps sounded again, heading back in the opposite direction. Noah released the breath he had held pent in his chest.

  “You should go,” Lady Tabitha said. She took another step back, until she was stopped by the wall. The flickering light from a torchiere overhead glinted against eyes that were nearly black, and the sheen covering her rapidly rising and falling bosom shimmered like the lake outside his suite of rooms in Haverthwaite at night. “Now. Before someone else comes upon us.”

  “But that affected you as much as it affected me. I’ve compromised you. I can’t just leave you—”

  She shoved him back. “I don’t have the patience for your damned chivalry. Go.” She turned and headed in th
e opposite direction.

  Noah couldn’t let her go. “Wait,” he called out. She came to a stop but didn’t turn. “We need to talk about this. Will you dance with me tonight?”

  Shaking her head, Lady Tabitha said softly, “I can’t. My dance card is full.”

  He had been afraid of that. “Can I call on you tomorrow then?”

  She nodded and then hurried on her way. At least she had agreed to that. Now he just had to somehow relieve the nuisance in his pants.

  Chapter Twelve

  Try as she might, Tabitha could not expunge that blasted kiss from her mind. As fate would have it, the memory of the kiss remained at the forefront of her mind throughout the entire afternoon the day after the ball, despite the fact that her drawing room was filled with suitors and their flowery offerings.

  It didn’t help matters any that Lord Devonport joined these very same suitors with an armful of flowers, himself.

  Nor did the fact that he continued to look on her with doleful eyes as she offered equal attention to each of the gentlemen present.

  Lords Villiers, Fairweather, and Brackly were all in attendance. In his absence, Lord Kinloss had sent a bouquet and a note informing her of his deep lament that he could not call upon her in person today, but hoped to do so later in the week.

  Lord Devonport’s presence in itself was a point of contention within her mind, despite the fact that she’d agreed to allow his visit. She had requested he cease his pursuit before that, yet clearly he had no intention of doing so.

  Tabitha was certain that, yet again, Toby had instigated their interaction last night. After she’d left Lord Devonport in the hall and found the retiring room, she discovered there was no tear in her gown at all. Nothing was amiss, save her mussed coiffure and her missing judgment. After fixing her hair and waiting there for several moments for Jo’s arrival, she knew she’d been tricked. Jo wasn’t coming.