Page 33 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
From the side of the floor, he watched as Charity danced set after set with all manner of men laughing and flattering her, bringing that smile to her face, the one that showed her fun side. The one he wanted to see more of, directed at him.
At last, while the orchestra was taking a break, she wandered over to him. He lifted her hand to his mouth immediately. “You shine. As if the candles all turned their glow to you.” He meant every word, but judging by her reaction, he perhaps should have considered the timing of such a declaration.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me?”
“What? No.”
“The candles turned their glow on me?” Her one eyebrow rose so high he wished to retract every word.
“No, really, Miss Charity. I don’t say things like that enough…ever…but the words came unsolicited from my lips. Perhaps I’m not as well-spoken as some.” The pause that followed, accentuated by his own pleading expression, must have softened her.
“Well, that’s great then. Thank you.” She stood close. Probably as close as they always stood, but tonight he was aware of every shift of her skirts, of the air between them that he wished to shrink, or his hands that hung awkwardly at his sides when he wished they were pulling her closer, or at minimum, holding her hand in his.
He realized too much time had passed since he’d said anything. These kinds of silences never happened between them before.
They both began at the same time. He again wished to take back his words. “What are we working on tonight?”
Because she said, “You look handsome. I like the more colorful jackets on you.”
So he added, “You are beautiful.”
They were silent for a breath before she murmured, “Thank you.”
The strings started up again, and he knew his time was short. But every thought of what to say left.
Lord Granville approached with a bow and then she was back on the floor, one man after another until the second to last set.
And then the duchess approached. “Her last set had to leave early.” The words fell around him as she walked by, and he wasted no time on the heels of the man who was about to tell her he was leaving before their set.
As the words left the man’s mouth, Andrew held out his hand.
She hardly had a moment to respond to her first partner before Andrew was leading her out on the floor.
The familiar three-step rhythm of the waltz sounded. “And now I am to be rewarded for an agony of an evening.”
She laughed. “An agony? I’ve had a delightful time. Did you know that Lord Kenworthy’s estate boasts an orange orchard in a green house? That must be a delicious green house. Can you imagine the scents.” Her face lifted in ecstasy at the thought, and Andrew immediately made plans to order a greenhouse and orange orchard be built and cultivated on his estate.
“I’ve been in agony watching you in the arms of so many when my own arms ached for this moment.” He was bold. But apparently it was time to be bold.
Instead of responding with pleasure or a blush or a laugh or even sarcastically making fun, she seemed to bristle in his arms. And she looked away.
“What did I say?”
“What are you after, Lord Lockhart?”
“After?”
“Yes.”
Thoughts of the Duke of York, waiting for him across the ballroom tugged at guilty strings. “Perhaps I should pay a visit to the Duke of York?”
Her eyes lit with surprise. And then a small smile tugged at her lips, beautiful full lips that begged for attention all of a sudden. “I know he is making himself available for just such a visit.”
“Is he?”
She nodded.
And he sensed the urgency. How many other men had already approached him? He realized the problem with his neglect. He’d come across as a complete cad. Dash his hesitancy. He should have made his intentions known, early and often.
