stomach and light-headedness made her feel as if she might collapse.
But she did not give in to her weakness for the dark-haired, vibrant brown-eyed Lord Framlington, she lifted up her chin, caught up the step and continued, focusing on Philip and smiling as hard as she could.
When the music drew to its crescendo and ended in a brisk flurry, relief and a desire to reach the safety of her mother swamped Mary. But before she had chance to ask Philip to take her back, a shadow fell over her. She turned. John’s cousin, from John’s father’s side, stood beside her, Lord Oliver Harding, with another man.
“Miss Marlow.”
She had met Lord Harding at several events but he’d never paid her any particular attention. He was older than John and not interested in John’s young half-siblings.
Mary curtsied. “Lord Harding.”
He smiled, bowing only slightly then he turned to the gentleman beside him.
Heat burned beneath Mary’s skin. He was one of the men who’d entered with Drew.
“May I introduce Mr Harper to you Miss Marlow, he begged an introduction. Mr Harper, Miss Marlow, is my cousin’s sister.”
Mary searched for a memory of the man’s name but could recall nothing. She’d never seen nor heard of him before.
He gripped her hand, then kissed the back of her glove. Goosebumps ran up her arm, like a cold breeze had swept in to the room.
Bowing her head, to avoid his gaze, she curtsied a little.
When she rose and looked at him, she met piercing, assessing, blue eyes.
His blonde hair gave him a look of innocence, but his eyes denied it entirely. He was a rogue, of the worst sort, the sort who did not even bother to court wealth. That was why she’d not seen him before, because he was not the type of man to attend sedate functions. Even the card room here, she was sure, would not play deep enough.
He was a man who danced only with sin – and Lord Framlington’s chosen companion…
“May I have this dance, Miss Marlow?” If she refused it would be obvious to everyone around them as the sets had already formed and she would have to leave the floor alone. Philip had turned away.
Her mouth was too dry to answer. She nodded, anxiety spinning in her gut. Why would he single her out? What had Lord Framlington said?
“You’re very beautiful, Miss Marlow. More so than I’d thought, I admit. Now I can see why he is so smitten.”
“He?” Her cheeks heated with a deeper blush as they took the first steps of the dance moving forward then back. Then they turned to make a ring of four with the couple to their left.
Mary faced Lord Framlington.
Ah. So this was the game?
They completed a full circle, hands joined as a four and then she turned, looking at Lord Framlington and walking towards him as the dance required.
“Miss Marlow,” he acknowledged her with perfect formality.
Her fixed smile faded.
The next move was a closer turn, shoulder to shoulder, he pressed close. Heat scorched down her arm, and burned inside her, her heart thumping hard. She opened her mouth to breath, but there was no air.
“Mary,” he leant a little to whisper to her ear. “Did you receive my letter?”
“Yes.”
“Will you write to me?”
There was no time to answer. They were parted by the figures of the dance.
She faced his friend again, her heart pounding as she sought to watch Drew through the corner of her eye. There were no other moments to speak with him, and the rest of the dance seemed endless as the complicated patterns moved Drew further and further away.
* * *
During supper, Drew stood apart from everyone, hands in pockets, as he watched those eating. Miss Marlow was in the bosom of her family, again, surrounded, laughing and happy. Happy? Now there was a word, a word like, love . Had he ever known what it was to be happy? How the hell did he know who was happy?
He’d laughed last night, though, laughed and got very drunk. He’d called at White’s after he’d left her, searching for his
But she did not give in to her weakness for the dark-haired, vibrant brown-eyed Lord Framlington, she lifted up her chin, caught up the step and continued, focusing on Philip and smiling as hard as she could.
When the music drew to its crescendo and ended in a brisk flurry, relief and a desire to reach the safety of her mother swamped Mary. But before she had chance to ask Philip to take her back, a shadow fell over her. She turned. John’s cousin, from John’s father’s side, stood beside her, Lord Oliver Harding, with another man.
“Miss Marlow.”
She had met Lord Harding at several events but he’d never paid her any particular attention. He was older than John and not interested in John’s young half-siblings.
Mary curtsied. “Lord Harding.”
He smiled, bowing only slightly then he turned to the gentleman beside him.
Heat burned beneath Mary’s skin. He was one of the men who’d entered with Drew.
“May I introduce Mr Harper to you Miss Marlow, he begged an introduction. Mr Harper, Miss Marlow, is my cousin’s sister.”
Mary searched for a memory of the man’s name but could recall nothing. She’d never seen nor heard of him before.
He gripped her hand, then kissed the back of her glove. Goosebumps ran up her arm, like a cold breeze had swept in to the room.
Bowing her head, to avoid his gaze, she curtsied a little.
When she rose and looked at him, she met piercing, assessing, blue eyes.
His blonde hair gave him a look of innocence, but his eyes denied it entirely. He was a rogue, of the worst sort, the sort who did not even bother to court wealth. That was why she’d not seen him before, because he was not the type of man to attend sedate functions. Even the card room here, she was sure, would not play deep enough.
He was a man who danced only with sin – and Lord Framlington’s chosen companion…
“May I have this dance, Miss Marlow?” If she refused it would be obvious to everyone around them as the sets had already formed and she would have to leave the floor alone. Philip had turned away.
Her mouth was too dry to answer. She nodded, anxiety spinning in her gut. Why would he single her out? What had Lord Framlington said?
“You’re very beautiful, Miss Marlow. More so than I’d thought, I admit. Now I can see why he is so smitten.”
“He?” Her cheeks heated with a deeper blush as they took the first steps of the dance moving forward then back. Then they turned to make a ring of four with the couple to their left.
Mary faced Lord Framlington.
Ah. So this was the game?
They completed a full circle, hands joined as a four and then she turned, looking at Lord Framlington and walking towards him as the dance required.
“Miss Marlow,” he acknowledged her with perfect formality.
Her fixed smile faded.
The next move was a closer turn, shoulder to shoulder, he pressed close. Heat scorched down her arm, and burned inside her, her heart thumping hard. She opened her mouth to breath, but there was no air.
“Mary,” he leant a little to whisper to her ear. “Did you receive my letter?”
“Yes.”
“Will you write to me?”
There was no time to answer. They were parted by the figures of the dance.
She faced his friend again, her heart pounding as she sought to watch Drew through the corner of her eye. There were no other moments to speak with him, and the rest of the dance seemed endless as the complicated patterns moved Drew further and further away.
* * *
During supper, Drew stood apart from everyone, hands in pockets, as he watched those eating. Miss Marlow was in the bosom of her family, again, surrounded, laughing and happy. Happy? Now there was a word, a word like, love . Had he ever known what it was to be happy? How the hell did he know who was happy?
He’d laughed last night, though, laughed and got very drunk. He’d called at White’s after he’d left her, searching for his
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