Page 19 of The Viscount's Daring Cinderella
“It is a lovely gown that suits you well,” Beryl replied.
Although they were unkind to her, to say the least, Beryl always remained amiable. She did not have a mean bone in her body. She refused to let their cruel treatment change her nature.
Grace smirked. She continued to preen and stare at her reflection. Suddenly, Grace looked at Beryl. “You should get dressed, Beryl, or we will be late, and I will not be blamed for it.” Grace held up both hands and shooed Beryl from the room. “Well, off you go.”
Beryl hurried from Grace’s room to hers. Lady Ellsworth abhorred tardiness, and Beryl would not be the butt of her derision. She was pleased that she had already prepared everything that she needed and chose a gown that flattered her well. Hilda helped her to dress, but there was no time to make her face more presentable with even a bit of rouge. Rather than being poised, she was flustered as she rushed to meet her cousins at the front door. She was relieved when they departed without any snide remarks.
They sat in the carriage, and as it pulled away, Beryl hoped she would catch the eye of an eligible bachelor. Her future security depended on it. Marriage was the center of everything this evening, and the attachments formed by the season’s end would ripple through society.
Beryl sat in the carriage with her cousins and glanced at each of them in turn. There was not one who had her best interest at heart. They were selfish and mean. The thought of being at their mercy forever sent a chill up her spine. She must find a man of means with better social status.
For the first time, Beryl was quite pleased that her cousins talked over her as if she was absent. Her thoughts drowned out their incessant, excited chatter. Beryl wanted children, and she vowed they should never suffer the same fate as her.
The carriage pulled up to the Wilford’s town house, and they alighted. They were ushered into an already packed drawing room where the upper echelons of society freely mingled. Beryl was here to find a husband just like all these society belles. She had no dowry, yet she secretly hoped for a kind and decent man. She was sure by the end of the season many of the young ladies would be spoken for. They would not struggle like she would. Despite knowing what she wanted was almost impossible, she resolved not to give up. She had to convince herself of the merits of her plan.
Lady Alberta Truman, the Duchess of Wilford, came over to greet them, and Lady Ellsworth made the necessary introductions.
“Let me introduce you to some of my guests,” Lady Wilford said, and she led her cousins away.
Beryl followed through the round of introductions. Grace had been asked to dance, but Beryl had been looked upon as more of a curiosity. The gentlemen of thehaut tondid not ignore her because she supposed that would be difficult to do.Her beauty and grace were such that she turned heads when she entered a room.
Lady Wilford was just about to take them to meet another set of guests when she peered over Beryl’s shoulder. They all turned toward Lady Wilford’s gaze and she said, “There you are. May I present Lord Theodore Godwin, Viscount Bowden?”
Beryl stiffened, her muscles rigid, and she was sure her heart stopped. It was inevitable that they would meet, yet she hoped it would not be this soon. Her skin tingled, and there was a fluttering in the pit of her belly. He was just as devilishly handsome as she remembered. He was immaculately garbed in black trousers and jacket, with a blue waistcoat and black cravat. Her gaze fell to his lips before she quickly looked away. She was sure her cheeks were flaming red, for she felt the heat. Lady Wilford had continued with the introductions, and she heard her cousins reply, but it seemed to be from far away.
Beryl felt a slight nudge in her back, and four pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Bowden,” Beryl replied mechanically.
“Would you do me the honor of sharing the first dance, Lady Beryl?” His eyes twinkled and held a hint of something more.
There were soft gasps of alarm from her cousins.
The viscount was wicked. He had asked her in the presence of the host, and it would be difficult for her to refuse. Beryl was sure he knew she could not say no. Beryl registered Grace’s fierce glare. Lord Bowden had not asked her to dance. This did not bode well for Beryl, and she wondered what Grace and Lady Ellsworth would say when they were alone.
Beryl buried her groan and smiled. “I will reserve the first dance for you, Lord Bowden.”
Just then, the orchestra started the interlude for the first dance. Even they were conspiring against her. Beryl thought itwas such a waste to dance with him because he was not looking for a wife, and she would not be his mistress. Lord Bowden led her to the dance floor. They took their position, and a few beats later the waltz started.
Her heart lurched when he gracefully led her into the rousing dance.
“You are a beautiful dancer,” he murmured, his gaze far too intent upon her.
“I …” Beryl was almost uncertain what to say.
“Ah, the lady is blushing,” Lord Bowden drawled, looking far too pleased.
She delicately sniffed. “It is merely the heat from a far too crowded ballroom.”
“A pity, I thought it was due to your reflection of our delightful kisses and being so close to my charm.”
The sound that spilled from Beryl was one of shock. The rogue grinned, the curve of his mouth so sensual, wild flutters went off in her belly. “I have not thought about your … kiss once.”
“Pretty little liar.”
Their gazes collided. “You cannot be certain,” she said, grateful her voice was steady.
“I can, for every day I thought about your mouth against mine.”
