Page 35 of Her Notorious Rake
“No?” Lord Neville smiled softly. “I just can’t help but think that you are leagues away apart from me. In an entirely different universe.”
“Perhaps a bit. I think,” Gemma murmured, “I think I need a bit of fresh air.”
“Ah, certainly. Certainly.” Taking her hand, he led her off the stage towards the grass knoll nearby, where he led her closely in a stroll.
“Suitable?” he inquired.
Gemma nodded. “Very. I thank you.”
Chapter 17
At last, Dalton noticed Gemma return to the Pavilion to dance with Lord Neville once again. It turned his stomach to see her so often in the other man’s arms, and he began to calculate the best point at which to take her as his own partner in the dance.
He suffered Celeste’s pouts when he turned down her sly request for another round, and waited until the opportune moment. And then, he interrupted Lord Neville and Gemma’s dance, whirling away with her in his arms, and her breath caught as she lifted bright eyes to his. Once again the air grew heavy around them, his heart thundering in his ears as the music rose to a new height. Her fingers lacing in his, he guided her into another spin, and as they circled each other, he could hear her hitched breath, her red lips that matched her dress so well falling open in a charming manner. He couldn’t stifle the silly grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he found it impossible to release her as the dance came to a close. Her breath came quickly as she stared up at him. “Would you do me the honour of this next dance?” he whispered.
She nodded, her throat moving as she swallowed.
His mouth dry, he led her into place, and began again the procession down the pavilion, cool breezes cooling his fevered face. He ached when her hand slipped from his at each parting in the dance, until she was returned to him again several steps later. He had not danced with her for what seemed so long, though it had been but a week.
The rest of the world melted into the ether until at last it all came sweeping back in harsh relief as the music faded, and her aunt hastened over, grasping her by the arm. Dalton strodeoff the Pavillion towards the guided walks, the Vauxhall Garden wildernesses, for a reprieve from his clinging cousin.
Under a large tree, he paused and withdrew his pipe, lighting it, and began to draw on it, closing his eyes as a new calm washed over him. A soft drizzle began sputtering on and off, until it at last faded into a fine mist that hung over the city. The candle lights glowed far across the stretch of greenery, reaching him through the oncoming fog. It was late afternoon now, and it would be dark before long. The pale luster of twilight had just begun to wash over the hedgerows and bowers of roses, the towering trees and waving ferns rustling all around.
How long he lingered here, inhaling and exhaling deep puffs of tobacco smoke, Dalton couldn’t be sure. But his eyes opened when a twig snapped nearby, and he turned to see Gemma herself, under a tree not several paces from his own. He nearly dropped his pipe, and pocketed it once he’d snuffed it out. She stepped towards him, and his heart leapt into his throat. “Miss Hayesworth,” he choked.
“Lord Blakemore,” she curtsied. “I did not mean to—”
“No, no. Please,” he gestured, indicating that she join him under the shelter of the tree.
She did so, slow, careful. Her eyes were large in her flushed face.
“I did not realise you were out here,” she rushed to explain. “Forgive me if I am intruding…”
He shook his head, smiling. “I am pleased to see you, Miss Hayesworth.”
“You—you are?”
He huffed out a hoarse laugh. “I’m afraid it is the truth.”
She folded her hands in front of her, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I wished to express my considerable regard for bestowing me the book from your collection. It has meant more than I can say, to once again turn through its pages.I cannot begin to express just how…deeply I cherish it, how enraptured I am to have it in my hands again.”
Dalton grinned. “And I am pleased to hear it.” Without thinking, he took a step towards her, but she stiffened. He took another one, unable to breathe, and then he stopped. Oh, how he longed to hold her in his arms…
To his astonishment, she swayed towards him, until suddenly, in the shadows of the tree, he took her in his arms. She lifted her mouth to him, and if he stepped closer, he would be able to kiss her. But he kept himself rooted in place. He would not tarnish her by putting his hands upon her. He could not do that to her.
“Gemma!” A young woman called nearby. Gemma stepped back with a gasp.
“I must go,” she whispered. Dalton swallowed thickly, nodding.
When she turned, he slipped into the shadows, pushing through the boughs to extricate himself from her magnetic draw.
***
Gemma paused and glanced back over her shoulder towards Dalton, only to find him vanished, like some sort of phantom. Rose grasped her arm, and she pulled her gaze away. “Miss Gemma, where did you go? Lady Kenway has been looking for you everywhere.”
Gemma winced. Aunt Philippa would likely be annoyed with her for disappearing without a word, without Rose chaperoning. She inwardly braced herself for a tongue lashing from her aunt. Rose led her back to their dinner box, where Lord Neville and her aunt waited. A tense silence hung over the box as Gemma hurried in after Rose.
“Ah, there you are my dear. Come, you’ve scarcely touched your food!” Aunt Philippa smiled at her, though it was clear hersmile was forced.
