Page 18 of A Lady's Christmas
The orchestra tunes their instruments while he searches the ballroom for the only woman he wants to hold in his arms.
Honoria grins happily and angles her head toward the French doors at the back of the room.
Weaving through the crowd and saying hello to as many people as he can, Theo spots Gwen standing in a corner like a wallflower.
When she sees him, she shrinks back. Even avoiding him, she’s the most stunning sight. Her green gown flows over her curves, dipping low at her breasts. A red ribbon just under those delectable globes makes his mouth water. Her ruby hair is curled into several ringlets that frame her face and the rest flows softly over her shoulders, driving his need to run his fingers through her locks.
“Gwendolyn, why are you hiding at your own party?” He crowds her, taking in her soft floral scent.
“I’m just staying out of the way. It’s your party, Your Grace.” There’s a shyness in her voice and posture that he doesn’t like one bit.
“No. This party was created by you when you were just a girl. You told my uncle to bring the area together, and he did this for you because it was and is a brilliant idea.” He forces his tone softer. “However, the ball cannot begin until we dance, so will you do me the honor of the first dance, Miss Carter?” He offers her his hand.
With a short hesitation, she accepts his hand and they walk through the crowd, which parts as they pass to the dance floor.
The conductor taps his baton.
Silence falls before the first strains of a waltz begin.
Tightening his hold on her, he steps them into the dance.
The ballroom erupts into applause before other couples surround them and join the waltz.
“I didn’t think you’d want to dance with me. There are quite a few beautiful women of means here tonight.” She stares at his chin as if looking him in the eyes will break some spell. He wants whatever is keeping her at arm’s length to be pushed away or banished or whatever one does to remove a bad spell.
“While I’m obligated to dance with many of the women in this room, there is only one I want to hold in my arms.” He hesitates, but she’ll leave tomorrow and there are things he needs to say. If his pride hadn’t gotten in the way he would have spoken to her yesterday. “I wish you would meet me later so we can talk, Gwendolyn. Is that too much to ask of you? I know you want to go back to London and your Society, but will you talk to me before you leave?” His heart pounds so hard, he can’t remember a time he’d ever been so nervous.
An adorable crease forms between her eyes as she thinks about what he’s said. Maybe he’s just hoping she’s thinking about it. Perhaps she just trying not to make a scene when she tells him a resounding no.
Her silence creates an awkwardness he detests. “Everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Pickering are here. I had a note earlier today that the baby would be arriving at any moment and they would not be able to come. I suppose the midwife has also missed the party.”
Warmth spreads over Gwen’s face making her even more beautiful. “How lovely that she’ll get her Christmas baby after all.”
“She has a few hours left.” The ballroom is polished to a high shine and all the candles of the chandelier glitter. Green garland is draped along the wainscotting and two enormous mantels. “The ballroom looks perfect. Thank you.”
“The staff did all the work.” She blushes.
He shakes his head. “You made this party happen and I am grateful.”
As the music draws to an end, she meets his gaze. “After the house has retired for the evening, I will come to speak to you, but only because it isnottoo much to ask after so many years of acquaintance.”
The music ends, she curtsies, then walks away.
It’s impossible not to laugh at her calling him an acquaintance while his mind is preoccupied with the wonderful noises she made as she came apart in his bed.
The next song begins, and he’s required to dance with one of a dozen women whose mothers wish to ensnare him.
* * *
It’s late and Theo sits in his study waiting for the house to take to their beds. There’s no way Gwen will come to him until she believes no one will know.
At nearly five in the morning, his heart sinks. She’s not coming. His urge to go to her room and lay out his feelings is so strong it takes all his will to continue staring out the window into the darkness.
Finally, he gives up and makes his way to his bedroom. The fire is lit as is to be expected, but something in the air is different as he enters. Scanning the room, his heart pounds a staccato beat as his gaze lands on Gwen sitting in the center of his mattress.
Approaching the bed, he’s afraid if he moves too fast, she’ll disappear. “You’re here.”
No longer in her gown, she’s swathed in layers of white cotton, both nightgown and wrap. Her hair shines in the firelight. “You said you wanted to talk.”
