Page 13 of In Compromise with the Earl
He slowed Goliath and rubbed a hand down his neck while watching her nod decisively to herself then start on the path back to the Manor.
What had she decided on, he wondered? To stay away from him as he had asked, or to keep pushing and prodding until his control shattered like so much worthless glass?
Seated high, he watched her go, while hoping to high heavens that she had decided to avoid him. It was best for both of them really—she was young, vibrant and would not do with an old, wounded man like he was. Lady Ravenswood had warned her off well enough and he hoped she would listen to them both.
He did not need her to upset his life, Oswald was sure. Now, if only he could believe it.
* * *
“I think the gold-embroidered satin would be best, My Lady,” Lydia said while lifting a few gowns. “For a good second impression.”
Half-listening to her maid, Aphrodite brushed her fingertips over the spot where Oswald had kissed her earlier. He was not there, but at the thought of him her skin tingled, and she swore she felt him still. The warmth of his lips, the wicked rasp of his stubble across her skin, and the warm woodsy-citrus scent of his cologne.
“Hm?”
“Your dinner attire, My Lady,” Lydia said, oblivious to Aphrodite’s distracted air. “The gold embroidered gown is lovely.”
Aphrodite rose from her curricle chair and her peach robe flowed with her. Taking the dress she mused over it, “It’s nice, but I don’t want to blend in. Where is the purple silk?”
Lydia blanched. “My lady, that dress is—”
“Utterly scandalous, I know,” Aphrodite said. “But I want to gain someone’s attention and that dress might be the key.”
“But—” Lydia said, “if His Grace is going to be attending, don’t you think it will cause more problems than gains? You do want to dissuade him, don’t you?”
Aphrodite gritted her teeth. That dratted Duke. “Fine, fine, I’ll go with the gold.”
She removed the robe and donned the dress and plucked at the delicate puff sleeves. Lydia had already fixed her hair in an updo with a thread of diamonds laced through it. Reaching for stick of kohl, she added a little under her eyes to make the blue of her irises stand out.
Dabbing at the line, she smiled. “I think that should do, don’t you?”
“I think you’re splendid,” Lydia said. With a nod, they left the chamber, made short work of the corridors and descended the main staircase where she and Lydia parted ways, she to the dining room and her friend to the servants’ quarters.
Once she arrived at the dining room, she was surrounded by the other twenty-three who had come for what might be a last chance of finding a match. A centerpiece of lilies, topping the lace tablecloth on the long table, sent a faint perfume into the air, and a gas chandelier shed a bright, even light over the place settings.
Instead of trying to make friends among the other ladies, Aphrodite sought out Oswald, but her eyes landed on Jameson Blackwood, Duke of Stathmore, her constant irritation.
He was undoubtedly the type of man that caused women to swoon, with his fair, wheat-blond hair, tanned skin and long, dark eyelashes that were prettier than her own, rimming bright green eyes; he was everything a woman dreamed about.
Instead, to Aphrodite, he was a nightmare that kept coming back and she still had not found a way to banish it. Firming her lips, she kept looking and spotted Oswald in a corner, speaking to the red-haired man she faintly remembered being at the first meeting.
“Lady Aphrodite,” Duke Strathmore said seductively from behind her. “We meet again.”
Aphrodite wanted to scream. Turning around, she plastered a smile on her face. “Your Grace,” she curtsied.
“Ah, ah,” Jameson tutted.“You know that I do not ask that of you.”
“We’re in public,” she said through clenched teeth and a smile. “I don’t think my father would appreciate it if I discarded years of training.”
He shook his head. “And since when areyouafraid of breaking the rules?” As he said it, Oswald and the other gentleman had come near, close enough to hear the Duke’s words. She pinked.
What would be going through Oswald’s mind at hearing that? Did he think that she had dallied with Jameson? That she was compromised?God forbid.
Thankfully, Lady Pandora swept into the room with a smile. “Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. Dinner is about to begin, please take your seats.”
After searching and finding her name, Aphrodite was placed with a gentleman who introduced himself as Ernest, Baron of Whitstone. She laid the linen napkin over her lap just as Oswald, by accident or design, sat across from them.
She caught Oswald’s deep-blue orbs that looked almost black under the candlelight. Intrigue and desire camouflaged as a gentleman in a superfine coat.
