Page 15 of Too Wylde To Tame
“Excellent. It’d be damned awkward since I maneuvered, manipulated and bribed my own servants to seat her beside you for dinner,” Randford replied. “Nothing ventured results in nothing gained, Welbey. Good luck.”
For the remainder of the gathering, he stayed near her. Not so close that she would feel compelled to acknowledge him, but close enough that he could intervene if Jameson were to corner her. When the dinner gong finally rang, he immediately stepped toward her. “Miss Wylde, I believe we are to be neighbors for dinner. Please allow me to escort you in.”
There was the briefest of hesitation. Then she offered a small, polite, but undeniably warm smile. “Thank you, Viscount Welbey. That would be very nice.”
There was a spark of hope in him. Perhaps she had changed her mind. Perhaps he had a chance, after all.
* * *
Charity would have kissedher sister had Felicity been near her. After the small party on the lawn, she had not spoken to her sister about the viscount. But she could only imagine that Felicity had known, somehow. Her sister was trying to play matchmaker and remove as few obstacles from her path as possible. Putting them beside one another at dinner was a way to ensure that they would be able to converse relatively privately. At such events, with everyone talking at once and the clinking of glasses, china and cutlery, the din was such that one could only ever hear the person to one’s immediate right or left. And since Cordelia would be on her left, what she and the Viscount spoke of would remain a well kept secret.
Placing her hand on his proffered arm, she allowed him to lead her into the dining room. For a moment, she was so overwhelmed with pride for what her sister had created that her own dramas simply faded to the background.
The already exquisite dining room of Randford House had been made over into something akin to a magical fairy land. The tables glittered with candles. Carefully constructed trees, bedecked with sugared fruit and artfully decorated cakes, provided unique centerpieces that would be the talk of everyone present. The tables themselves, three altogether, had been positioned around the room to form a u-shape. They were covered with moss and an actual trickling stream had been crafted so that water flowed from one end of the table to the next. It was brilliant. It was ostentatious and incredibly extravagant, but it was a triumph.
“Your sister has outdone herself,” the viscount observed.
Charity smiled. “She certainly has. Never let it be said that when Felicity puts her mind to something, she cannot achieve it not only competently but with panache.”
They found their seats. The Viscount was seated on one corner of the U and she was next to him. In some ways, that was better. It would make conversation so much easier because they were seated closer together that way than others were. But it was also nerve-racking because looking at him, meeting his intense gaze, always left her breathless and a bit shaky. She’d likely the spill soup all over herself and make a complete muddle of everything.
The footman held her chair for her and she sat down, letting him push the chair in toward the table. Up close, Felicity’s vision for the evening was even more stunning. The detail and thought that had gone into creating such a display was truly impressive. And thinking of that was so much easier than thinking about the man beside her.
“I made a mistake this afternoon, Miss Wylde,” the viscount said.
The abrupt change of subject from talking about Felicity’s decor to the very uncomfortable conversation they’d had earlier in the day was unsettling to say the last. But she tried to remain calm and collected as she asked, “What mistake is that, my lord?”
“I conceded defeat and allowed you to end something before it has even begun. I’ve had a change of heart. And my brother, Miss Wylde, can go to the devil. But I’ll not let him have any sort of control in what happens with the pair of us.”
Her heart was pounding wildly with excitement, with anticipation of all that was to come. But above all, what she truly felt in that moment, was relief. She hadn’t ruined things with him forever. There was still hope. “How fortunate it is, my lord, that I had reconsidered my stance already. You’ve spared me the embarrassment of bringing it up. Thank you.”
“What prompted your change of heart?”
Charity looked down at her hands folded primly in her lap. “My dear cousin simply pointed out to me that caution, while a valuable trait, should not always supersede courage.”
He smiled. It was that same beautiful smile with that delectable dimple and those sparkling eyes that she had seen the first time they had met, when they had danced, and she’d been so thoroughly taken with him. In that moment, it was no less devastating and it left her quite flustered. He really was beyond handsome, but it was the warmth she sensed in him, the kindness, that drew her in. Perhaps it was the absence of those traits that had made Lord Jameson’s attentions so much of a nuisance. Only politeness and unwillingness to break etiquette and embarrass her aunt had kept her from telling him to leave her be.
“Make no mistake, Miss Wylde, that it is you alone whom I mean to court. But should an extravagant gift be anonymously delivered to your cousin, you may rest assured that it was given only in gratitude.”
Charity couldn’t hold back her giggle. “I should tell you that isn’t necessary, but frankly, I think Cordelia would enjoy it greatly.”
Their eyes met and her laughter died away. Their gazes locked in a way that felt unbearably intimate, far too intimate to occur in a room full of people. And that might have made a difference had she not lost all awareness of anyone else in the dining room but him.
When he spoke, his voice was pitched very low. Low enough that she needed to lean in a bit to hear every word. “Then you may consider it done, my dear Miss Wylde. I believe we have outings scheduled into the local village tomorrow. Perhaps you could advise me on what she might like.”
“I would like that very much, my lord.”
“Frederick, if you please. And if you would permit me, I should very much like to have the liberty of your given name.”
Charity couldn’t stop the blush that pinkened her cheeks. “Then it is yours… Frederick.”
They were so lost in one another that neither of them even took note of Lord Jameson glaring daggers at them from across the table. He sullenly gulped his wine, signaling the footmen to refill his glass despite the fact that it was considered terribly bad form to become inebriated in the presence of ladies. But then, Lord Jameson Dartwell had made it a point to always defy convention just for the sake of it. Now he had reason. He had a belly full of port and boiling resentment. But it was no longer just directed at his brother. Because he could see from the way Charity Wylde looked at Frederick, in a manner which she had never looked at him, that there would be no chance to win her over. Her affections were already engaged and likely had been from the first.
He might not have her, he thought, reconciling himself to that fact. But it didn’t mean that he couldn’t exact his own form of revenge.
TEN
The following morning was bright but the weather was uncharacteristically mild. In short, it was perfect for their outing to the village. Two large carts had been hitched to teams of horses, the back of them filled with hay covered in soft blankets to prevent it from sticking to anyone’s clothing.
