Page 35 of Indecent Desires of a Proper Lady
Margaret Whitfield had the uncanny ability to appear both innocent and sensual at the same time. The way she moved slowly and tantalizingly down the steps, the way her lips often parted as if waiting to be kissed, and the way she turned to the crowd of people, showing the length of her lovely neck. It was enough to make Philip warm all over, and in a way that would make him unfit for public company. He cleared his throat as she approached him, her lips upturned in a smile.
Her blue eyes lighted upon him as she made her way to the base of the stairs. “Mr. Winston,” she curtsied elegantly.
“Lady Whitfield,” he replied after he’d cleared his throat, wishing to rid himself of a rather more seductive image of Margaret in his arms. It was not the time nor the place. “What a pleasure to see you again after so many days.”
“And you.”
“Would you do me the honor of sharing the next dance with me?” His heart did a little flip at the sight of her upturned lips, and the flush of color that briefly passed over her cheeks. Philip tried to keep his mind steady.
She took his hand and said, “I would be delighted.” Philip felt a tingle run through his arm as she slid her tiny hand into his. He held it tightly, trying his best not to think about kissing her right there and then, in front of the whole ballroom.
Chapter Fifteen
Margaret felt like she was in a dream. Walking down the large staircase of her home and descending into the fairyland that was the Bartley Ball. Juliet had done well in her planning, and she knew the servants had worked tirelessly to make it the most-talked-about event of the season.
The descent into the ball room felt symbolic in a way of her new-found release, and as she made her way down, she saw him. Her heart began to flutter at the sight of those familiar strong shoulders and brown hair. He was facing away from her, but then, he turned around, and she felt a pleasant tingling sensation at the sight of his pleased expression. It made her swallow slowly, as heat began to flood through her anew.
She kept her eyes down; she didn’t want him to see that she knew he was watching her. She felt her blood tingling as it passed through her veins as she descended further down the stairs. Whispers surrounded her, and she knew what they contained. It was either talk of her new hair or the fact that Charles had not returned her affection. She was embarrassed at how open she had been with her feelings before her father’s death. Now, she was paying that price.
But once she finally made her way to the bottom and found herself face to face with Philip Winston and his dashing green eyes, she forgot about everything else. She didn’t let go of his eyes as she slid her hand in his and was whisked out into the dance floor. She loved the feel of his strong presence, so manly, so protective, so enticing.
“We have never danced before, Margaret. You and I.”
They made their customary bows, and Margaret felt the heat of his gaze linger on her. “You are correct. I wonder why that is.”
They made their first turn, and Margaret got a whiff of his scent. It was a mixture of soap and something spiced, and it made her heart flip and the familiar warmth settle somewhere near her core. He smiled at her, and she had to take a breath to keep from melting to the floor. He said, “I suppose because I never had the courage before.”
She swallowed, feeling the embarrassment on her cheeks. “But you are more courageous today?”
“I am. I feel that life is too short to waste on tiny fears. Besides, it appears that you are quite bold. The new hair choice?” He grinned, showing his perfect, straight white teeth.
Margaret laughed. “Yes, it is a bold decision. It was a sort of change I have had.” She worried for a moment, that it was too much, and that he would disapprove, but instead, the dance pulled them closer, and her heart began to speed up its rhythm as his hand slid lightly around her waist, their hips touching.
He whispered, “I think it is most becoming, Margaret. I do see a change in you. A very happy change.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. They paused their conversation as they moved around a different couple. Margaret kept smiling. She could not be happier. She thought that maybe she had thought too highly of Philip or that her imagination had built him up to more than he was, but he was just the same, if not better than the image that had filled her thoughts in the days of his absence. She wanted him now more than ever.
Once they returned into each other’s sphere, she said, “You make quite the conversationalist as a dancing partner. It is rare occurrence, I think. Not one I have seen very often.”
“Well, I am most obliged to you for the compliment. I do like to make it seem as if we are merely sitting down and having a conversation. It could be a ballroom, a garden, or a drawing room.”
His eyes watched her carefully, and Margaret knew to what he referred. Her mind flashed back to when he had held her hand and told her that anything was possible. Or the time when their fingers brushed over her now-precious book of lithographs and a spark had passed between them then, but now, it was even stronger.
The dance ended, and they made their parting bows, but Philip stopped her from turning away, his fingertips pressing lightly into the cleft of her elbow. “Lady Margaret, will you oblige me in taking a turn around the gardens? It is still early yet, and there will be chaperones about, if that concerns you.”
It does not concern me, but I suppose it is for the best,Margaret thought.
“Of course, Mr. Winston. I shall be happy to join you.” Smiling, they walked away from the dance amid the chatter and whispers about her new appearance and walked to the garden doors.
Outside, they could see footmen and other servants standing guard as well as a few other talking couples. It was very safe, indeed, and yet she wanted to be alone with him. She felt a yearning inside to be just with him alone, under the lamplight.
Philip motioned out with his hand. “Will you walk, Margaret?” She nodded and followed him further out onto the garden paths.
Philip’s hands were at his side, and once they were out of sight of most of the people closer to the house, he offered Margaret his arm. Margaret’s hand moved ever so slowly over his coat, feeling his strong arm underneath. She slid closer to him, her heart practically in her throat, thinking of what intimacy they shared so close to the ton’s wagging tongues.
“Thank you for coming with me. You and I have had many pleasant conversations of late, and I did not want them to discontinue at the end of the dance.”
Margaret wished she had a fan with her to cool her face. Her whole body felt like it was on fire as she stared into his endlessly deep-green eyes. “Well, Mr. Winston, I do have many other suitors clamoring for a dance with me, you know.”
