Page 8 of Awakening a Lord's Desires
“Mr Merryweather, how lovely to meet you,” Charles said, and the older man nodded sternly.
“It is quite a pleasure, Lord Spencer. I remember your father, even though he did not come here very often. Good man, though, good man.”
“I thank you, yes. I wanted to rather break from tradition, and thus you find me here. I have come to visit the country estate. It has been left unattended for far too long, its pleasures left unenjoyed.”
“Well,” Mr Merriweather said, brightening considerably after the compliments of the country. He patted his chest. “I am certain you will find just the pleasures you like. There are so many who enjoy London for all its varied amusements, and yet I find that the country in its simplicity can be just as entertaining.”
“Well said, Mr Merryweather, well said,” Charles replied with a smile. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a young lady with whom I wish to dance.”
He could no longer resist the pull to speak with her. It was a risk, perhaps, considering the unseemly way they had met, and yet he could not go the whole evening without speaking to her, without asking her to dance. The thought of touching her again, and without it being scandalous in any way, thrilled him to the core.
Mr Merryweather chortled and turned away after saying goodbye, and Charles was about to push his way through the crowd.
“What do you mean to do, approach the woman?” Oliver said. “Remember what we discussed? No one can know of your meeting,” he added in a harsh whisper.
“Yes, yes, Oliver. Since when have you been the bastion of good deeds? We’re following the rules. I remember the two of us bashing about London without a care in the world, if I might add, and now you mean to make me think of propriety?”
Oliver gave him a tired look. “Yes, of course. We were entertaining ourselves then, as only young gentlemen know how to do. But never before in all of our acquaintance have you attempted to flirt in such a way with a young woman of the gentry. The rules are different with women like her. She is not just any chit. You must be careful.”
“Thank you,” Charles said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re kind to remind me. I must tell you that I have no intention of causing Miss Turner any harm. A dance is quite respectable, is it not? It will not cause scandal among the gossipmongers.
And I will not let anyone know what has passed between us. Now,” Charles looked around, “I suppose you’ll want to find yourself a dancing partner as well. For even though we are not always the ones to enjoy a ball, we will enjoy ourselves this evening. As Mr Merryweather said, the country, in its simplicity, still has enough to entertain.”
Laughing and rolling his eyes, Oliver left his side. Charles let out a breath, searching for Miss Turner once again. It had been a long, long time since a woman had made him so nervous, not since he was a youth looking upon his first bright beauty. Feeling a little flushed, he pulled at his tight cravat, the young valet at the country estate having tied it too tightly.
Or perhaps it is merely this young chit’s presence that has you feeling a little warmer than usual?
He ignored his foolish thought as he passed by a few others, nodding, greeting, and introducing himself before he ended up near Miss Turner. She was standing with a young gentleman and another young woman, and he thought the best way to introduce himself was to speak to the young man.
For I can introduce myself to a young man, and then we can pretend as if she and I have never met. It is the perfect plan.
“Greetings to you, sir,” Charles said, approaching the young dark-haired man. “I am Lord Spencer, and I am currently staying at the Spencer estate. I am not used to the countryside, and mostly a stranger here, and so I am introducing myself to those at this party. Is it not important to introduce oneself to one’s neighbours?”
“Oh, I see, but of course,” the young man said with a smile and a slight bow. “I am Lord Alexander Fitzroy, a pleasure to meet you, My Lord.”
They shook hands. And then Lord Fitzroy turned to the two young women at his side.
“Let me introduce you to my good friends.”
Charles tried his best not to react at the sight of Miss Turner, but he could tell she was shifting on her feet uncomfortably and hardly looking up at him.
First, Lord Fitzroy motioned to a young woman with dark hair. “This is Lady Matilda Chatsworth, a dear friend of mine, and my other dear, dear friend is Miss Caroline Turner. We are all childhood friends, and we are in the country every year after the Season.”
“How wonderful,” Charles said nodding to each of the ladies as they curtsied. And then, sensing a bit of possessiveness on Lord Fitzroy’s part for the lovely Miss Lady Chatsworth, Charles felt relief. He held out a hand to Miss Caroline.
“I was wondering if you might enjoy a dance, Miss Turner, with a stranger new to the area.”
“Yes, My Lord,” she said. “I would be honoured.”
And then, finally, she looked up at him and took his hand. He pulled her away from the crowd towards the other dancers as they readied themselves for the next set.
Chapter 8
I wish I would stop blushing like a beetroot, Caroline thought. It is not as if I have never spoken to a young man before.
And yet there was something entirely different about Lord Spencer than any other young man she had ever met before. Simply from seeing him in the crowd, walking towards her, had set her skin aflame and her heart to fluttering. No one had ever made her feel so strange before, and she wasn’t sure if she enjoyed the feeling or if she should be afraid of it. The not knowing felt rather like a secret rebellion.
Perhaps I struck my head far too hard that day in the woods, and now I cannot stop thinking nonsense.
