Page 33 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“The Bible is a remarkable document,” he mused. “It can be interpreted many ways, and reveals as much about whoever reads it as it does about the Book itself.”
“Do you have a favorite chapter or verse?” she wondered.
“I’m rather fond of the Song of Songs, myself.” He spoke, his voice as liquid and hot as silken flame, his eyes never leaving hers. “‘Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue.’”
Breath whooshed from her, stolen as if by an invisible caress. “‘His mouth is most sweet,’” she quoted. “‘Yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.’”
They stared at each other for a long while, their gazes holding. His hand remained at her back, his fingers gently brushing against the flesh just beneath her nape. She felt herself falling, falling, into a whirlpool of desire.
At that moment, two young bucks entered the box. Sarah recognized them as Mr. Gregory, a baronet’sson, and Mr. Lovell, heir to a somewhat impoverished viscount. They were handsome enough—the darker Lord Gregory being of average height and just starting to paunch, and the fair Mr. Lovell thin and attractive in a reedy sort of way. Both of them had only this year started shopping for brides, or so her mother had told her after one evening’s soiree.
Jeremy removed his hand. The absence of his touch was a palpable thing, and she craved its return.
“My ladies,” both men intoned in unison, bowing. “And sir,” Mr. Gregory added perfunctorily, glancing at Jeremy.
A round of greetings and introductions followed the men’s entrance.
“You’re looking as fresh as morning,” Mr. Lovell said to Sarah’s mother.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” seconded Mr. Gregory. “Is this your first Season out?”
Lady Wakefield laughed appreciatively at the mild flirtations.
“And Lady Sarah,” Mr. Gregory continued, turning to her, “it will be hard to watch the performance with your light shining so brightly in the theater.”
“You are very kind,” Sarah answered with a wan smile. She might be somewhat pretty, yet she was no gleaming beacon of loveliness. Such compliments only reinforced to her what she could never—and did not want to—be.
“He isn’t kind,” Mr. Lovell insisted. “He speaks too weakly of your charms.”
His companion shot him an angry glare, and Sarah herself wasn’t much inclined to look kindly onMr. Lovell. Compliments were like sweetmeats thrown by the handful. They did nothing to sate hunger and only made her stomach ache.
“Are you a habitué of the theater, Lady Sarah?” Mr. Gregory said, seemingly eager to impress.
“Not regularly, no,” she admitted. “Though I think Mr. Cleland here will enjoy Lady Marwood’s work. Especially now that she’s related to him.”
Neither Mr. Gregory nor Mr. Lovell even glanced at Jeremy. He must have rated very little in their limited vision, which made her unease around the two newcomers shift into something tight and angry. How dare they dismiss him? How small-minded of them.
“The performance is about to begin,” Sarah said coldly. “If you don’t mind . . .” She glanced toward the entrance to their box.
“Yes! Of course!” Both young men stumbled over themselves in their haste to be agreeable. “Perhaps we’ll see you afterwards.”
“Perhaps,” she said with deliberate vagueness.
Shortly, the two gentlemen were gone. Sarah’s mother exhaled loudly.
“Sarah . . .” she said in a warning tone.
“They were being rude to Mr. Cleland,” Sarah answered angrily.
“Little boys distracted by their own reflections,” he murmured. “Hardly worth noting.”
“Their behavior was intolerable,” she answered, her throat tight. “If they insist on treating others like rubbish, then I’ll do the same.”
Her mother’s expression was rigid, and she gave Sarah an unmistakableWe’ll talk about this laterlook.No doubt Sarah’s reputation as a wallflower would only be enhanced by her treatment of the two young men—they’d likely talk about how she was a terrible conversationalist, awkward and rude—but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Anger on Jeremy’s behalf boiled, even if he seemed to think the incident hardly worth noting. He wasn’t a milquetoast. Far from it. But he possessed a far more forgiving nature than she.
Lady Wakefield turned back to face the theater, effectively giving Sarah a chill shoulder.
Jeremy leaned forward. “You’re familiar with those two men,” he whispered.
