Page 5 of A Gentleman's Kiss
Ah, he is human. Not so flawless.
He stood there for a moment in perfect stance, as if to let her look upon him. His eyes roving over her form, a slight curve of his lips showing he approved of what he saw. A knot formed in her stomach—but not nerves. No, this swirl of feeling was anything but that. It was warm, and sent tingles shooting to her breasts and to her lower belly. She willed herself not to shiver. When her eyes locked on his, his smile had increased. Did he fully know the effect he had on her? It would appear so.
He certainly is arrogant.
Lillian rolled her eyes at his arrogance, and perhaps even more so at her body’s traitorous reaction. He was most assuredly one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen, but there he stood so proud, so sure of himself. So sure of the effect he had on her. She had the distinct impression most girls and women fawned all over him, or fell at his feet.
“Good evening, my lady. Lord Dominick Wade, Earl of Wessex, at your service,” he said with a sweeping bow as she stopped at the foot of the stairs.
She lifted her arm delicately as she’d been taught and waited for him to take her hand. His fingers gently gripped her gloved hand, as his soft lips grazed the exposed skin at her wrist. A tingle wound its way up her arm and into her chest. She made a mental note to wear full gloves tomorrow.
“Miss Lillian Whitmore,” she said softly, her breath still caught in throat from the moment he seized her senses with his warm kiss.
“Whitmore?” he asked, looking up sharply, his brow furrowing.
“Yes,” Lillian said, willing the butterflies in her stomach to stop fluttering.
She straightened her back, stunned at the man’s apparent incredulity for her name.
“I don’t understand. I know I have been traveling for some time, but I was sure His Grace had just two daughters, and both English. You are American.”
“How perceptive,” Lillian said under her breath. And if he’d been even more perceptive of society rules he would realize she’d saidMissand notLady,denoting that she was in fact not the duke’s daughter, but in fact an untitled relation.
“Right your are, but I am happy to have Lillian as a daughter now.” Uncle Luke strode in, just in the nick of time. “How are you, Wessex?”
“Your Grace, I am well. How is it you have come upon such good fortune and had another daughter?” His smile was sincere, as he turned to look at Lillian.
She ducked her face as the color drained from it, pretending to pick a piece of imaginary lint from her skirts. Memories flashed in her mind, reminding her exactly why she was here. If only she’d not been so shallow… a groom hunter. If she’d listened to her father and stayed at home instead of insisting on attending a party… She’d been jealous was the truth, didn’t want the man she’d set her eyes on to be swept away by another. How foolish and petty she’d been. Now she would pay the price for it.
She tried with all of her might to swallow her tears, and thanked the Lord he granted her one small wish. What was done was done, and there was no going back. Only forward. She did not want to excuse herself from the handsome guest or her family, to go cry in her bedroom. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her gaze, putting herself back into the present.
“’Tis a long story. Perhaps another time,” Uncle Luke said, looking from Lillian then back to Lord Wessex.
Lillian sighed in relief, grateful her uncle had decided to tell Lord Wessex without her present. She hope the arrogant noble would forget about her altogether.
“Let us join the rest for dinner. I am honored you have decided to stay with us for a few weeks while you await your own entourage,” the duke said the Lord Wessex.
What?He would be staying with them?Ugh…He would not be forgetting her any time soon, and she would be made to deal with his wicked roving gazes and the swirling in her belly whenever their eyes met. What was worse however, was how he would look at her when he knew the truth. She would not be worthy of his rakish glances once he knew how utterly superficial she’d been before arriving.
Her uncle led Lord Wessex away from the hall and toward the dining room. Lillian followed in silence, wishing she could go back to her room and sink beneath her plus coverlet. She was glad for the short reprieve of having to talk to anyone—even if only for a minute.
Soon enough she’d have to be social. Tongues would be wagging, people would be asking questions. Her predicament would soon spread among the London Ton like the black plague had swept across Europe. She could hear their whispers now.
“The niece of the Duke of Suffolk caused the death of her parents…”
*****
Dominick watched the fragile creature who sat opposite him at the table. He was fascinated with her. Her beautiful features and movements mesmerized him. They were distinctly American, and he loved all things American.
To his right sat Lady Tamara and on his left Lady Susannah. They were having a battle of wills across his lap for his attention. His neck would for certes be sore in the morning from twisting back and forth again and again. Who had set the name cards? He would have to flirt with one of the maids to see that at every meal from now the cards were switched so that he was not between the two sisters. Their incessant chatter was driving him to drink—literally. He swilled the glass of red wine and downed its contents, and signaled for the footman to refill it for the third time.
“Well, I think pink ribbons are the very best to have upon one’s hat, don’t you agree, Lord Wessex?” Lady Susannah said batting her lashes.
“Oh, posh! A floral pattern is always best!” Lady Tamara said, swatting at Dominick’s arm.
“I’ll leave those types of decisions to you ladies.”
He sighed deeply and glanced across the table again. Miss Whitmore poked at the food on her plate with her fork. She appeared to be making a design of some sort. Was that a… face? Asparagus formed hair, while a few stewed carrots made eyes and nose. A hunk of beef formed the mouth and mashed into flesh were her herbed potatoes. Dominick stifled a laugh, and suffered another swipe from Lady Tamara, but his eyes were only for Miss Whitmore, who looked bored to tears.
