Page 15 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘Very well.’
Mary forced a path through the crush of people, remembering the night he had stopped her.The rogue… I cannot come to you in a place like this, so, if you want what I can give you, you must come to me… But how could she go to him if he was nowhere to be found!
‘Miss Marlow,’ her mother’s maid acknowledged as Mary entered the withdrawing room that had been allocated for the women’s use. She ensured Mary did not soil her dress, then Mary sat while the maid reset a couple of the curls on her forehead.
She hated him. He was playing with her. Yet, no one she spoke to or danced with compared to him. He was handsome, clever, charming – and poor. A fortune hunter and a rake.
Her heart thumped as she walked back into the ballroom, looking for him. He was not there. She did not return to her mother, she sought her friends. Someone to talk to. Though, she had not spoken to them of Lord Framlington, they would think her mad. Anyone would think her mad. She could not even explain to herself why she liked him.
‘Mary!’ Miss Smithfield, one of Mary’s less confident friends, raised a hand and beckoned.
‘Emily.’ Mary had befriended her one evening when Emily had been sitting out a dance against the wall.
‘You poor soul.’ Lady Bethany Pope took hold of Mary’s hand and pulled her close. ‘I saw you dancing with Mr Makepeace.’ She kissed the air beside Mary’s cheek.
Mary lifted her fingers to her open mouth, mimicking making herself sick. Emily and Bethany laughed.
‘He has asked you to dance every night this week,’ Emily stated.
‘Yes, but hopefully never again. I stood on his foot.’
‘Deliberately?’
‘Perhaps.’ They laughed again.
Mary did not laugh. This life, dancing and presenting her best side to everyone who spoke to her, whether they were likeable or not, was driving her slowly insane. Her life was dull. She missed the sense of danger hovering across the ballroom when Lord Framlington watched her. He intrigued her. She was the only woman he watched and he never danced.
Though, he had talked to Lady Kilbride several times.
She sighed.
Had she lost him, by not conceding? Had he given up on her?
‘Miss Marlow.’ Mr Gerard Heathcote bowed before her. ‘May I have the honour of this dance?’
She wished to scream,no!She had danced with him ten dozen times, he was nice, polite – and so boring. And she was becoming wicked, cruel and horrible. She dropped a shallow curtsy then gave Gerard her hand. ‘Of course.’
As they joined a set, she glanced through the French doors, looking into the garden. It was dark and raindrops ran down the glass. Perhaps she should take a walk outside. A thorough soaking might bring her to her senses.
Nine nights later, after twelve nights of looking for an absent Lord Framlington, when she returned home with her parents, she stopped her mother from entering her bedchamber. ‘Please, Mama, a maid can help me undress. You cannot treat me as a child forever.’
‘But—’
‘Please, I wish to retire alone.’
As soon as she shut the door, the tears came. They had been hovering all night. She had looked for Lord Framlington almost constantly. When she had waltzed, her gaze had spun about the room searching every corner. Her dance partners must have thought her rude.
She had concluded that his interest had waned. He must have accepted her denials and given up on her. Common sense said she ought not care. She should be pleased.
A light knock tapped the door. A maid. She looked at Mary then looked away. ‘Mrs Marlow said you need help to undress.’
‘Yes, please.’ The pathways of tears were still damp stains on her cheeks.
The maid released the buttons at the back of Mary’s bodice, in silence. Normally Mary would have talked. She unlaced Mary’s short stays. Once the laces were loose and she could disrobe, Mary said, ‘That will be all, thank you.’
‘Are you certain, miss?’
‘Yes, absolutely.’
