Page 24 of The Seductive Love of a Lady
He bowed graciously, and she hoped, ungraciously, he would go away.
Her father’s eyebrows lifted in criticism of Lord Brooke.
The orchestra struck up the tune of a waltz. Instantly Peter bowed. ‘Mary, my dear, would you do me the honour?’
Nausea tumbled through Mary’s stomach. He was being gallant but she did not want to dance. Yet, if she refused, her father would think she felt unsafe with Lord Brooke.
‘Thank you.’ She accepted Lord Brooke’s hand, without even having saidgood eveningto her mother. It did not feel right.
His hand closed around hers, and he embraced her, as couples began to circle the floor. It felt too intimate. She had not even danced a waltz with Andrew…
10
Just past ten o’clock, Drew ran upstairs in The Albany. He had been walking off his irritation for hours and now he was late for the ball. He bore no anger towards Mary, she was not responsible for his birth. But today’s experience had humiliated him and re-opened childhood wounds.
It was not until a church clock struck nine times that he realised how late it had become. He had rushed back, cursing himself for deserting her again.
The handle turned but the door did not open. It was locked. Mary must have given up on him and gone to bed – at least that was what he hoped.
He unlocked the door and went in.
She was not in the parlour. Guilt grasping in his gut, he checked the bedchamber. She was not there either, but her items were, including the stays she was unable to secure herself that had been left on the bed. She had not left him, then.
In the parlour, the chessboard was back on the table, but it was broken in two. He noticed two used glasses standing with the decanters. The one he had drunk from before leaving, the other she must have used…
He felt as cold as stone.Where is she?
With her family,common sense replied. She would have sent word to her father and they would have collected her. She must be at the ball, and he could meet her there.
The smell of her perfume hovered in his rooms as he put on his evening dress. Arriving late was better than not arriving at all.
He reached the Caldecotts’ house in less than thirty minutes. The receiving line had broken up and the ballroom was full. His spine stiffened as he joined the crush, preparing to face her father.
The light from a few hundred candles shimmered in the glass of chandeliers and glittered from the mirrors lining the hall. The same mirrors reflected London society in all its splendour. Marlow and Pembroke were easy to spot. Like him, they were a head above most of the women and some of the men. Drawn like metal to a loadstone, his spirit cried for Mary as he made his way through the crowd. But still he could not see her.
He stopped, his gaze skimming over the dark heads of hair among those dancing.There, the exact shade of ebony secured in a high knot by a silver comb that had lain on his dresser earlier today.
His feet became as heavy as lead as his blood turned to ice, and a red mist clouded his vision. She was waltzing with Peter!What the hell?
Peter’s hand rested on her slender back, and his other held hers, leading her through the dance.
She had not used the second glass in his room; Peter had been in his rooms with her. And now here!
The thread that had come loose this morning unravelled at a rate of knots as his hands balled into fists. He did not hear music, nor conversation. No one existed but him and the two of them as he walked among the dancers. People stumbled,bumped into him and complained as they pulled their partners out of his way.
The music finished with a flourish and couples separated.
Peter’s hands fell and Mary stepped back smiling, the colour in her cheeks high and her eyes bright.
Drew’s stride lengthened.
Mary looked his way and her mouth opened.
Peter turned too.
Then Drew reached them.
He thumped Peter’s shoulder with his left hand, knocking him away from Mary. Peter stumbled back a step. Then Drew thrust his right fist at Peter’s jaw. The impact satisfyingly reverberated up Drew’s arm as Peter lost his balance and fell on his arse.
