obvious discomfiture.
“I’ve met you before.”
It was not a question, yet Rose felt compelled to answer. “Yes. During my coming-out season,” she said without expression. “We danced at Mrs. Frisch’s supper ball.”
“You wore some godawful pink thing,” he recalled, running his gaze over her figure.
Her heart stopped. “You remember that?”
Stratford did not reply as he continued to look at her in an inscrutable manner. In his mind, he pictured the lanky, awkward girl whose hair pinnings had threatened to come undone, who had stammered at their introduction, who had, he vaguely recalled, bored the boy he had been. In those days, he thought ruefully, nothing but a diamond of the first water had been worthy of his attention. Again meeting Miss Lawrence’s deep gray eyes, he knew a flash of regret for the damnable folly of youth.
As he held her captive, staring so intensely, Rose saw the memories pass through his restless eyes and she trembled with an abrupt desire. Aware that he had suddenly, in some inexplicable way, found her attractive, she longed to throw herself into his arms and show him precisely what she knew of love. But she resisted temptation, knowing that for all his wild ways, the viscount would despise such impetuosity.
Where his hand encircled her wrist, Rose’s pulse throbbed violently. She tried to snatch free of his burning clasp, but Stratford tightened his grip.
“Miss Lawrence, please, let me ask your pardon—”
“For not remembering me, my lord? You needn’t cry pardon for that, for I assure you I did not expect it of you.”
Though her tone was matter-of-fact, it cut him to the quick and he reacted with a flare of temper. “No, of course you did not. How could you?”
“How could I, indeed?” she retorted, pulling her wrist free at last. “When one is as selfish and arrogant as you, my lord, one need not remember those so unworthy of notice.”
“Thank you,” he shot back. “Your assessment of my character is most enlightening. But let me tell you . . .”
Stratford got no further, for Baldwin returned just then with Helen, their arms overflowing with wildflowers of all descriptions. Both immediately knew something of moment had occurred. Rose stood with her shawl slipping unnoticed from her shoulders and her face unusually flushed, while beside her, the viscount’s stony aspect was abnormally pallid.
Daniel saw the smile fading from Helen’s lips and stepped forward, saying with false heartiness, “Our expedition has been most successful!”
His words smoothed over the uncomfortable moment, but the return to Willowley was beset by a heavy air of constraint. When the old phaeton rolled to a stop before the cottage, Rose alit before either man could dismount to assist her. She went directly to her room without taking leave of them and they soon departed for their lodgings in Adderbury without again seeing her.
*****
The viscount offered his cousin no explanation and Daniel knew far better than to press for one. He did not see his lordship again until Stratford appeared from his room that evening, ready to escort the Lawrences to a supper ball given by the local squire, Sir Richard Henley. The sight which met Baldwin’s startled gaze was a vision to behold.
For once, Stratford had spared no pains with his appearance. His satin knee breeches and black velvet evening jacket enhanced his lordship’s dark coloring and masculine build. Daniel enviously wished that he might show to such advantage, but knew it was not the fine clothes that made Colin so devilishly handsome. It was perhaps a pity that Busick was not attendant upon the viscount, for he would have been highly gratified to discover a diamond pin stuck neatly into the folds of Stratford’s impeccably tied cravat, while a gold signet ring graced the little finger of his lordship’s right hand. Altogether, Stratford looked very much the lord of the realm that he was and Baldwin acknowledged
“I’ve met you before.”
It was not a question, yet Rose felt compelled to answer. “Yes. During my coming-out season,” she said without expression. “We danced at Mrs. Frisch’s supper ball.”
“You wore some godawful pink thing,” he recalled, running his gaze over her figure.
Her heart stopped. “You remember that?”
Stratford did not reply as he continued to look at her in an inscrutable manner. In his mind, he pictured the lanky, awkward girl whose hair pinnings had threatened to come undone, who had stammered at their introduction, who had, he vaguely recalled, bored the boy he had been. In those days, he thought ruefully, nothing but a diamond of the first water had been worthy of his attention. Again meeting Miss Lawrence’s deep gray eyes, he knew a flash of regret for the damnable folly of youth.
As he held her captive, staring so intensely, Rose saw the memories pass through his restless eyes and she trembled with an abrupt desire. Aware that he had suddenly, in some inexplicable way, found her attractive, she longed to throw herself into his arms and show him precisely what she knew of love. But she resisted temptation, knowing that for all his wild ways, the viscount would despise such impetuosity.
Where his hand encircled her wrist, Rose’s pulse throbbed violently. She tried to snatch free of his burning clasp, but Stratford tightened his grip.
“Miss Lawrence, please, let me ask your pardon—”
“For not remembering me, my lord? You needn’t cry pardon for that, for I assure you I did not expect it of you.”
Though her tone was matter-of-fact, it cut him to the quick and he reacted with a flare of temper. “No, of course you did not. How could you?”
“How could I, indeed?” she retorted, pulling her wrist free at last. “When one is as selfish and arrogant as you, my lord, one need not remember those so unworthy of notice.”
“Thank you,” he shot back. “Your assessment of my character is most enlightening. But let me tell you . . .”
Stratford got no further, for Baldwin returned just then with Helen, their arms overflowing with wildflowers of all descriptions. Both immediately knew something of moment had occurred. Rose stood with her shawl slipping unnoticed from her shoulders and her face unusually flushed, while beside her, the viscount’s stony aspect was abnormally pallid.
Daniel saw the smile fading from Helen’s lips and stepped forward, saying with false heartiness, “Our expedition has been most successful!”
His words smoothed over the uncomfortable moment, but the return to Willowley was beset by a heavy air of constraint. When the old phaeton rolled to a stop before the cottage, Rose alit before either man could dismount to assist her. She went directly to her room without taking leave of them and they soon departed for their lodgings in Adderbury without again seeing her.
*****
The viscount offered his cousin no explanation and Daniel knew far better than to press for one. He did not see his lordship again until Stratford appeared from his room that evening, ready to escort the Lawrences to a supper ball given by the local squire, Sir Richard Henley. The sight which met Baldwin’s startled gaze was a vision to behold.
For once, Stratford had spared no pains with his appearance. His satin knee breeches and black velvet evening jacket enhanced his lordship’s dark coloring and masculine build. Daniel enviously wished that he might show to such advantage, but knew it was not the fine clothes that made Colin so devilishly handsome. It was perhaps a pity that Busick was not attendant upon the viscount, for he would have been highly gratified to discover a diamond pin stuck neatly into the folds of Stratford’s impeccably tied cravat, while a gold signet ring graced the little finger of his lordship’s right hand. Altogether, Stratford looked very much the lord of the realm that he was and Baldwin acknowledged
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