“Very well, but if the rest of these wolves do not stop eyeing Miss Unity like she is a helpless lamb, I do not know that I can maintain my civil façade.”
Edwin did not say a word in response, but he understood his friend’s aggravation perfectly. He was not a possessive person, or aggressive, but he wanted to bare his teeth to every gentleman standing in this room, staring at Miss Walters, and growl to them that she was his.
Even though she was not. Not really. She had made that fact clear enough time and time again, but it did not do much to quell his animalistic instincts.
The Baron and his daughters drew near, and Edwin’s heart began to pound as he realized he may have larger problems than other gentlemen coveting Miss Walters.
His manhood was stirring to life right then and there, and he was not sure that he would be able to keep his hands from her throughout the night.
Miss Walters is proving a greater challenge to my self-control than I could’ve anticipated.
But how thrilling a challenge she was.
Chapter 24
Tabitha hated being the center of attention. She hated having people stare at her like she was a piece of merchandise available for purchase. That is exactly how she felt walking into the ballroom at Cantham Manor. She had known her dress and appearance would create a spectacle, but she had allowed her sisters to ready her as they saw fit.
A part of her did worry if they had taken things a little too far, as she stood out far more than she usually did. With her tall stature and red hair, it was difficult for her to blend it as it was. Now, dressed so extravagantly, there was nowhere for her to hide. She was not so naïve that she did not recognize that people, particularly gentlemen, were staring at her and her sisters, and it made her grit her teeth in irritation.
They only care for our looks. They care not a bit for our minds or character.
This was one of the reasons she avoided the matter of courtship all together. She only ever received the interest of gentlemen because she was pretty. None of them cared to truly know her, or appreciate her wit. She was tempted to turn and march right back out the ballroom door, but she knew that would only hurt her sisters.
I am here for them. No other reason.
In that moment, however, she spotted Lord Morrington standing near the center of the room. He was looking at her with such intensity, it made her cheeks heat. Her heart raced, and suddenly, no one else in the room mattered but him. His eyes on her did not grate on her nerves the way the other gentlemen’s did. He did not look at her as though he wanted to buy her, as if she were a thing.
He looked at her like a man who had just come upon a coveted treasure. She did not think he even realized exactly how he was staring at her, but found she rather liked it. Everyone else who looked at her never truly seemed to see her, but he did. She could tell.
Her stomach clenched and her thoughts turned chaotic as she found herself more confused by him than ever.
“Lord Morrington is so handsome,” Sophia whispered next to her. “Do you not think so, sister?”
He was, and she did. She was not blind. He was sharply dressed in his black coat and tails, his waistcoat and tie each a brilliant white. He looked somehow more regal and sophisticated than all the other gentlemen around him, though they all wore essentially the same thing. His blonde hair was fashionably styled, and his gray eyes swirled like a summer storm as he watched her draw near.
With each step closer, her heart beat harder. By the time she and her family reached their hosts, she thought it might burst from her chest.
“My Lords, it was so good of you to invite us this evening,” her papa said with a broad smile and a bow.
Lords Habtage and Morrington returned his bow, though the latter did not keep his gaze away from her for long.
“We are so happy that you could join us,” Lord Habtage said. His eyes flickered toward Unity, her cheeks were rosy as she bit her lip to hide a smile. “My Lord, you have blessed us with truly exceptional beauty this evening.”
Tabitha and her sisters dipped into deep curtsies. When they stood back up, her papa looked from her to her sisters and nodded, his eyes shining proudly.
“Indeed, I am the luckiest of men to be so blessed,” he declared.
Tabitha felt her cheeks heat in equal parts pleasure and embarrassment. She was used to her papa’s gushing compliments, but it felt a tad awkward for him to be speaking so in front of Lord Morrington. She glanced toward the gentleman in question, and his eyes remained locked on her. Her blush deepened.
“Well, I hope you will each save a dance for the two of us,” Habtage grinned, though his gaze continued to stray to Unity. It was clear she was the only one he was truly interested in dancing with.
“Of course, My Lord,” Unity nodded, her voice breathless. “It would be an honor.”
“Yes, an honor,” Tabitha replied as well, though she thought she sounded nervous.
“We will leave you to greet your other guests,” her papa announced, nodding to each of their hosts.
He turned to walk away, and Tabitha and her sisters moved to follow him.
“I look forward to our dance, Miss Walters.” Lord Morrington’s voice wrapped around her like a silk scarf and held her in place.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. His eyes swirled with dark promises she could not fully understand, but her stomach tightened and that place between her legs began to pulse with a strange sense of anticipation. She needed to walk away from him. Needed to break the hold he inexplicably had over her, or she would likely do something she would come to regret.
“I look forward to it as well, My Lord,” she replied, proud that her voice remained steady, even as her skin prickled and her heart raced. With great effort, she turned from him and continued across the ballroom with her family.
* * *
Though she was careful to keep her distance from Lord Morrington throughout the night, she could not help but watch him. Curiosity burned through her. She had to know once and for all what his true character was like, else she feared she would go mad from her tumultuous feelings toward him.
She observed him as he moved about the room and interacted with other people. She paid special attention when he spoke to other ladies. The pang of jealousy she felt was a small price to pay to know for sure if he was a scoundrel or not.
It should not have surprised her that he appeared polite and engaging. His smile was beautiful, but…not quite right. It was not his true smile, she realized. There was a stiffness about his lips that spoke of an underlying tension. She did not think anyone else noticed, but the more she watched him, the more obvious it became that he was not enjoying himself.
He laughed easily, but there was a hollowness to the sound.
His eyes had lost their mischievous twinkle.
His shoulders were too rigid. His fingers too tight around his champagne flute.
What could be causing his strange demeanor? What could have him so upset?
When he came upon a small gaggle of ladies, he stopped, and so did her heart.
What will he do?
She did not think she could handle it if he flirted with any of them. So far, he had been well-behaved when he had spoken to a lady, but it had not escaped her notice that all those other ladies had been standing next to their escorts or chaperones.
This group did not have their eagle-eyed fathers or overbearing mothers hovering immediately around them. Lord Morrington did not have to maintain his polite façade as much with them.
She stood next to a table of refreshments, out of the way and half-hidden by a pillar, riveted to the scene before her. Would he prove her deepest suspicions correct? Would he keep her secret hopes alive?
Though I am not completely sure what those hopes are yet.
To her surprise and delight, he remained a perfectly appropriate gentleman. Though she could not hear what he said from her distance, he did not lean into whisper in anyone’s ear. He did not give them secret
smiles, or gaze at them with heat in his eyes. In fact, none of the ladies had received a look nearly as intense as the one he had granted her upon her arrival.
The ladies themselves were not so controlled in their behavior. They batted their eyelashes and giggled behind their hands, their attempts to flirt with him obvious even from across the room. Any pang of annoyance she felt at their boldness was tempered by the fact that none of their ploys worked. Soon enough, he moved away from their group and continued on his rounds through the party.
Releasing a sigh of relief, she tore her eyes from him for the first time nearly all night. A servant was walking by with a tray of champagne, and she took a flute, taking a grateful sip and allowing herself a moment to consider all that she had witnessed.
He had many opportunities to play the part of a rogue, yet he had remained appropriate, polite, and hospitable. The thought of him walking away from all those eager ladies had her grinning into her champagne.
It appears I was wrong about him after all.
She could not help the delighted thrill that ran through her.
“Enjoying yourself, Miss Walters?”
She jumped at the deep voice speaking low next to her ear. With a gasp, she whirled around, and found herself face-to-face with Lord Morrington. She had not even heard him approach! He was so close to her, it was toeing the line of propriety. His heat seemed to engulf her, and she had a difficult time collecting her thoughts.
“My…My Lord!” she stammered. “What are you…when did you…?”
His expression was unreadable when he said, “I have noticed you keeping a very close eye on me all night, Miss Walters. Care to explain why exactly you are observing my every move?”
Her cheeks grew so hot she was certain her whole face was bright red. She opened her mouth to respond, but could find no words.
Gulping, she at last managed to answer, “My…My Lord, I am not sure I know what you are talking about.”
He arched a brow. “Oh? Was I mistaken?”
“Of…of course you were,” she stammered.
“Then my apologies.” He did not sound particularly apologetic, and she was certain he did not believe her. He let the matter rest, however, and held out his hand. “Would you care to dance, Miss Walters?”
Her gaze bounced from his hand to his face and back again.
“I…I…” She was afraid to say yes. She was not certain she could keep her emotions contained if he was touching her.
“You did promise,” he reminded her.
Knowing he was right, that she had indeed promised, she took a deep breath and nodded, “Yes, My Lord. I would very much like to dance.”
She slipped her hand into his and felt a jolt shoot up her arm. His fingers clasped around hers tightly, and she gazed up at him with wide eyes.
Did he feel that as well?
His nostrils flared, but he otherwise gave no indication that he was as affected by her touch as she was his. Hand-in-hand, he led her to the dance floor in the middle of the room, which was practically full already. She spotted Unity and Lord Habtage together, each grinning as they moved with the music.
“They appear to be enjoying themselves,” Lord Morrington murmured as he pulled her into his arms. He did not place his hands on her inappropriately, nor press their bodies too close together. Yet, she still felt a strange rush at his nearness. Her feminine core hummed with sensation that sent tiny sparks of pleasure shooting through her.
Tabitha tried to mask her face so he would not know how he was affecting her, just as she could not tell how she was affecting him.
“It does seem that way, My Lord,” she agreed, peeking toward Unity and Lord Habtage once more.
She could not recall the last time she had seen her sister so happy. Unity was typically a very content person, and rarely spoke a cross word to anyone. Yet Tabitha had never seen Unity so…blissful. The way she was gazing at Lord Habtage was adoring. If Tabitha did not know any better, she would her sister was already in…
Lord Morrington’s fingers dug into the small of her back, reclaiming her attention. She stared up at him, her breaths growing shallow as his stormy eyes bored into her. The urge to run away from him slammed into her, but she did not give in to her cowardice. She would act as though nothing were out of the ordinary. She would act as though she did not feel incredibly warm and safe locked in his arms.
“Miss Walters, forgive me, but I would prefer you keep your attention on me.” His voice rumbled, his words meant only for her.
“I apologize, My Lord,” she murmured, helpless to say anything else. There was no real reason for her to be sorry, she knew, but she felt compelled to speak the words.
What is he doing to me? Why am I acting this way?
And why did his demand send a shocking thrill through her?
Chapter 25
Edwin could not believe that she was in his arms, dancing with him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He had expected her to resist more, or to gaze at him with some level of contempt.
Instead, she looked up at him like a lady smitten. He did not know what had caused such a drastic change in her attitude toward him, but he was not about to question it and ruin his good fortune.
He had spotted her watching him from across the ballroom. There was no use in her trying to convince him otherwise. He had tested her, moving from spot to spot and then glancing toward her to see if her eyes were still on him.
Why had she been so focused on me? What was she hoping to see?
Whatever it was, he had felt a rush of exhilaration knowing she was so attentive to him. He would have never dreamed of such a thing mere weeks ago, when he had been sure she despised him. Well, perhaps despised was a rather strong word, but it had been obvious she did not like him in the least.
What has changed? She does not appear to dislike me now.
“Miss Walters, may I ask you a question?”
She looked hesitant for a moment, but slowly nodded.
“Yes, My Lord. I suppose that you can.”
“Why did you agree to dance with me?” That was not the question he truly wanted to ask her, but he was too much a coward to put to words what was burning deep inside him.
She appeared taken aback, but quickly recovered herself to answer, “Because I promised to do so.”
He frowned, unsatisfied with that response.
“Is that really the only reason?” he asked in a low voice.
Miss Walters stared up at him, her eyes wide, her expression hesitant.
“O…of course,” she stammered. “What other reason could there be?”
She was lying. He could hear it in her tone. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her just a bit closer. Not so much that it was noticeable to anyone watching them, but enough that she was well aware of his movements.
“I think you agreed to dance with me because you like me,” he replied. “You do not want to admit it, though.”
She gasped. “That is a very bold thing of you to say.”
“You have accused me of boldness before, but I am not wrong, am I?”
She dropped her gaze from his and looked away. Her top teeth sank into her bottom lip, and he felt a jolt of arousal at the sight. He remembered how soft her mouth had been. How giving and eager. He wanted to kiss her again and remind himself what she tasted like.
I want to do much more than kiss her.
He needed to bring himself under control. It would do him little good to steal her away and ravage her in the middle of his own ball. The thought of sneaking her away to a private alcove or a hidden spot in the garden flashed through his mind. He’d trap her in his arms and kiss her until she was moaning with abandon, and then he’d slowly pull her skirt up, bit by teasing bit…
Edwin gave his head a hard shake to dispel his mind of his lustful thoughts. His reputation could not afford another black mark on it, and stealing Miss Walter’s virtue would certainly prove him the scoundrel all of London thought him to
be.
Still, he wanted the truth from her, if nothing else.
“Miss Walters, do you intend to ignore me the entire time we are dancing?”
Her jaw tightened and she turned her eyes back to him.
“My Lord, I…I do not know what I feel for you, in truth.”
He furrowed his brow, surprised by her honesty, but confused.
“What do you mean, you do not know?”
Could she possibly still dislike me in some way after all?
Improperly Enticed By The Rascal Earl (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 19