Page 8 of A Widow's Perfect Rogue
“I no longer care to hear your excuses. You disappeared after convincing me you wanted to court me, that there was something special between us. But instead, you left without a word. Without a trace. Please, just leave me alone, Thomas.” Swallowing a sob, she escaped down the garden path.
She heard him call after her but refused to stop. Catching the back of her gown on a shrub, she turned to tug at her dress and saw him following, his face shrouded in disbelief.How dare he act like the victim!Giving her gown a stronger pull, it released, and she hurried up the steps to the balcony and back into the ballroom. Walking as swiftly as she could, without drawing undue attention, she made her way to the front door. She accepted her pelisse and rushed down the front steps into her waiting coach.How could he possibly take that haughty attitude with me? How dare he act as if I had been the betrayer and not the betrayed?
CHAPTER2
Thomas’ heart twisted into knots. Five years. Five long years had passed since he’d stood close enough to speak with Frankie. To see the glow on her face. She was still as beautiful as she was since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. Wearing a sapphire satin, off-the-shoulder gown with a silver gossamer overlay, she looked almost angelic. Loose golden curls framed her face, and diamond pins sparkled in her hair like twinkling stars. And those magnificent full lips…perfectly pouty and oh, so kissable. She was the woman he’d never imagined finding. And yet, after all these years, he could not fathom her actions.
Five years ago, he’d been a foolish young man. A fool for love, believing Frankie would have kept the note he’d written her close to her heart. That she would think of him and await his return. For that was what he’d done during those three weeks. The entire time, he was helping Mason find the men that killed his father and injured his brother. All he could think about was Frankie—her luminous sky-blue eyes, beautiful smile, warmth, and bright spirit. The gut punch he’d received upon his return to London had been his undoing.
Seeing her again in the garden, face to face, he’d wanted to ask her the questions that had been buried in his heart for so long. But she’d run off. Would it make a difference? Should it make a difference?
Now, after all this time—the first time he’d spoken with her—they’d argued. In what had become a habit, he turned over the thumb-sized velvet box in his pocket. It was the ring he’d commissioned for her while in Spain. The ring’s design showcased a halo of small diamonds surrounding a stunning blue sapphire that reminded him of her eyes. He’d had the foolish notion that upon his return, he’d whisk her into a whirlwind courtship and then present her with the ring. Ah, but how fickle fate could be. He now kept it in his pocket as a reminder about the perfidy of women.Yet, I had it made for Frankie…
When he saw her alone at the Duke of Clarence’s ball, all rational thought had abandoned him, and he’d approached her, wanting to know something, anything. The truth. Even though he’d sworn to himself to do otherwise. Once more, he’d felt the lovesick fool. And now he had to live with the pain resurfacing once again.
Vexed, he rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to reconstruct what had happened tonight. She’d moved through the ballroom with purpose, compelling him to set aside his drink and follow her. Opening the glass doors leading to the balcony, he’d spied her on the swing below, her golden hair glowing beneath the aura of the gaslight. For a long moment, he’d watched her swing gently back and forth. Unable to resist, he’d stolen down the steps and approached. He’d wanted to know why she’d discarded his note at the Duke of Clarence’s ball five years ago. And why she hadn’t waited for his return. He needed to know. He frowned, recalling what she’d said to him.
Did she say I had abandoned her?
“Bullocks! What am I not seeing…or understanding?”
Laughter from a group of young couples on the balcony shook him from his brooding, and he walked through the small crowd and peered into the ballroom but saw no sign of Frankie.
“Thomas! You startled me,” his sister Katie said, surprising him.
Katie stood on the balcony with a young man. Thomas narrowed his eyes, recognizing the face of the man she was with but unable to recall his name. “I could say the same of you, little sister.”
The younger man gave a cursory bow. “Allow me to introduce myself, my lord. I am Wendel V. Colborne. I believe you know my father, Viscount Anthony Colborne.”
“The dowager provided introductions for Mr. Colborne.” Katie gave Thomas a strained smile.
Knowing the Viscount Colborne and his son’s reputations as tremendous bores, Thomas couldn’t decide if his sister’s look was a plea for help or a look of hope that he wouldn’t contest their having left the ballroom. Katie didn’t suffer bores for long. “Where is Paula?”
“She was dancing on the other side of the ballroom when the incident happened.”
“Incident?” He peered back into the ballroom, finally spotting Paula with her mother near the refreshment table. “What incident?”
“One of the young ladies got sick and lost her accounts on the dance floor,” Katie whispered. “We left the ballroom for some air. Mother knows where we are.” She pointed into the ballroom toward their mother, who stood in the far corner, chatting with the dowager. “Who were you looking for?”
“Fran—Lady Gallwey,” he replied.
“Mr. Colborne, could you give me a moment with my brother?” Katie asked with a charming smile.
“Of course,” the young man said, with a polite nod, before taking a few steps back and giving them the semblance of privacy.
Katie turned back to Thomas and leaned in. “She nearly collided with us as we came out on the balcony,” she whispered. “What happened between you tonight that she should be so distressed?”
“I should go look for her—speak to her.”
Katie touched his arm. “May I suggest you speak with her another time and place? Not here,” she murmured.
Thomas rubbed his hand along his jaw. “You could be right. When did you become so clever?” Glancing into the ballroom, he realized the band had taken a break and one section of the ballroom had been cleared while servants mopped the floor. That accounted for so many people on the balcony. “How unfortunate for the young lady who was ill. I hope she is feeling better,” Thomas said.
Katie’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “Me too, but that’s not the worst of it. Lady Deville slipped and fell into the mess, spilling champagne over herself and the floor and adding to the fiasco. Then she lashed out at poor Lucy Jeffreys, the girl who’d been sick. Most unseemly of the widow. The dowager kindly took Lucy to a private chamber to help her repair,” Katie said. “She also offered to have the widow’s carriage brought to the front door.”
Thomas liked the dowager. She had cheek but handled herself with grace. He immediately felt better about the idea of speaking with her, as his sister and cousin had suggested. “Is Lucy a friend of yours?” Katie had a kind heart and mothered all her friends.
“Yes, but I was too far away to help. As with Paula and me, this is Lucy’s first Season and I believe she may have imbibed too much champagne and she was simply not used to it. Champagne gives me the giggles if I drink more than two glasses.”
