uninterested in this
topic. Her gaze had moved from Esme to the dance floor, where the musicians had
just finished playing the last strains of the minuet. Moments later, Simon
rejoined them. After greeting the lady and her daughter, he politely asked Miss
Stanley to dance the quadrille. She accepted with a brilliant smile.
Simon had to leave to escort another lady
into the next dance. Miss Stanley’s partner came to claim her, and Lady Stanley
spotted a friend and wandered off, leaving Sarah and Esme alone again.
As they resumed their seats, Sarah snapped
open her new fan and fluttered it over her face as she watched the ladies
continue to fawn over Simon.
Two more dances were punctuated by awkward
conversations with acquaintances of Esme’s from last Season. And then the
quadrille came, and Sarah watched Miss Stanley dance with Simon. She didn’t
blush or simper as most of the other ladies had. She was open and gregarious
and laughing with him, always brightening when she returned to him in the
dance. She flirted with him in such a subtle yet entrancing way, Sarah couldn’t
tear her gaze away from them.
She wondered what Simon was thinking. He
smiled down at Miss Stanley, but he’d smiled down at every other lady, too. Yet
with Miss Stanley, it was different. Sarah couldn’t quite put her finger on
why, but it was, and it made her skin feel tight over her flesh.
She thought, not for the first time, of
what it would be like when Simon married. When a new mistress came to Ironwood
Park to take on the role of the Duchess of Trent. What would happen to their
uncertain relationship then?
She wanted to ask Esme more about the
Stanleys, but she couldn’t, not in this environment. And she didn’t want Esme
to see how… well, how
jealous
she was.
So she sat there, loving Simon more than
ever, envious of the ladies who so openly touched him and flirted with him, and
pretended that none of it mattered.
Georgina Stanley gazed up at Simon, her
light blue eyes encircled by a dark ring of blue and fringed with lashes that
she swept downward as she turned away.
Her eyes were blue… like Sarah’s. Yet so
different. Sarah’s eyes were a deep blue. When he looked into them, he saw so
much more than their color. He saw understanding and interest and depth. Hers
were eyes that could burrow under the shell of the Duke of Trent and understand
the man that lay beneath. She
knew
him.
He clenched his jaw as he turned Miss
Stanley. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. Shouldn’t be comparing other women
to Sarah.
Miss Stanley didn’t really know him.
Despite the fact that they had danced countless times and conversed a
significant portion of those, she didn’t know anything about his family or his
home. Or
him
.
Simon was acquainted with her father from
Parliament and from his club. The man had been hinting at an association
between their families for months. Simon had been noncommittal – he hadn’t made
public his intention to find his bride this Season. God forbid – if he had, the
matchmaking mamas would wage a full-fledged assault.
He took the hand of the dark-haired lady
to his right, and they walked to the center, meeting the other couples,
stepping back, where they turned again, and he found himself face to face with
a third lady, who murmured a shy, “Good evening, Your Grace.”
He greeted her with a smile, then they
separated.
Still, most everyone knew who he was. They
knew his age, and they knew enough about him to know he intended to marry and
father an heir one day. The Stanleys weren’t the only family that had turned
their focus on Simon as a potential husband for their daughter.
He reached for Miss Stanley again, resting
his right hand firmly across her lower back.
Miss Stanley had been present at almost
every event he’d attended in London since the beginning of the year. By now, he
knew the feel of her hands as they clasped over his, how her waist curved
beneath his fingers.
Yet she still
topic. Her gaze had moved from Esme to the dance floor, where the musicians had
just finished playing the last strains of the minuet. Moments later, Simon
rejoined them. After greeting the lady and her daughter, he politely asked Miss
Stanley to dance the quadrille. She accepted with a brilliant smile.
Simon had to leave to escort another lady
into the next dance. Miss Stanley’s partner came to claim her, and Lady Stanley
spotted a friend and wandered off, leaving Sarah and Esme alone again.
As they resumed their seats, Sarah snapped
open her new fan and fluttered it over her face as she watched the ladies
continue to fawn over Simon.
Two more dances were punctuated by awkward
conversations with acquaintances of Esme’s from last Season. And then the
quadrille came, and Sarah watched Miss Stanley dance with Simon. She didn’t
blush or simper as most of the other ladies had. She was open and gregarious
and laughing with him, always brightening when she returned to him in the
dance. She flirted with him in such a subtle yet entrancing way, Sarah couldn’t
tear her gaze away from them.
She wondered what Simon was thinking. He
smiled down at Miss Stanley, but he’d smiled down at every other lady, too. Yet
with Miss Stanley, it was different. Sarah couldn’t quite put her finger on
why, but it was, and it made her skin feel tight over her flesh.
She thought, not for the first time, of
what it would be like when Simon married. When a new mistress came to Ironwood
Park to take on the role of the Duchess of Trent. What would happen to their
uncertain relationship then?
She wanted to ask Esme more about the
Stanleys, but she couldn’t, not in this environment. And she didn’t want Esme
to see how… well, how
jealous
she was.
So she sat there, loving Simon more than
ever, envious of the ladies who so openly touched him and flirted with him, and
pretended that none of it mattered.
Georgina Stanley gazed up at Simon, her
light blue eyes encircled by a dark ring of blue and fringed with lashes that
she swept downward as she turned away.
Her eyes were blue… like Sarah’s. Yet so
different. Sarah’s eyes were a deep blue. When he looked into them, he saw so
much more than their color. He saw understanding and interest and depth. Hers
were eyes that could burrow under the shell of the Duke of Trent and understand
the man that lay beneath. She
knew
him.
He clenched his jaw as he turned Miss
Stanley. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. Shouldn’t be comparing other women
to Sarah.
Miss Stanley didn’t really know him.
Despite the fact that they had danced countless times and conversed a
significant portion of those, she didn’t know anything about his family or his
home. Or
him
.
Simon was acquainted with her father from
Parliament and from his club. The man had been hinting at an association
between their families for months. Simon had been noncommittal – he hadn’t made
public his intention to find his bride this Season. God forbid – if he had, the
matchmaking mamas would wage a full-fledged assault.
He took the hand of the dark-haired lady
to his right, and they walked to the center, meeting the other couples,
stepping back, where they turned again, and he found himself face to face with
a third lady, who murmured a shy, “Good evening, Your Grace.”
He greeted her with a smile, then they
separated.
Still, most everyone knew who he was. They
knew his age, and they knew enough about him to know he intended to marry and
father an heir one day. The Stanleys weren’t the only family that had turned
their focus on Simon as a potential husband for their daughter.
He reached for Miss Stanley again, resting
his right hand firmly across her lower back.
Miss Stanley had been present at almost
every event he’d attended in London since the beginning of the year. By now, he
knew the feel of her hands as they clasped over his, how her waist curved
beneath his fingers.
Yet she still
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