Page 2 of The Second Time Around
Too late. That is what everyone had told him. But he wasn’t too late now.
Her startled blue gaze flew to his eyes. “In that case, you might as well take your leave.”
“Can’t.” He pushed her chair in. “I rode up here with Bellamny. Doesn’t like to travel alone.”
“I am surprised he is here at all. He never comes to Town.”
“There is a scientific meeting at which he is giving a paper.” A footman poured wine and Richard searched for changes in her. There was no need to tell her the part he had played in arranging the scientific assembly. “He could not miss the opportunity to gather with fellow scientists.”
Her long fingers, almost devoid of rings, wrapped around the stem of the wineglass, then slid up to hold the goblet between her thumb and index finger. “I assume it is a great honor.”
“Indeed.” If Richard had his way he’d drag her out of the room. Once he had her in his arms, he would convince her to marry him.
Several years ago, after her period of mourning had run, Lady Bellamny had taken Patience in hand, bringing her to Town and teaching her what she needed to know to go on as a widow. He had been surprised, and not at all happy about that turn of events.
As Patience had not given old Lord Worthington the second son he desired, Richard had assumed she would return home with her daughters. He would have pursued her again and this time no one would have talked her into marrying someone else. Then again, that she had wed his lordship was partly his fault. He never should have given in to the temptation to see a bit of the world. Yet what young man truly considers the disasters can take place in his absence?
She turned her head, giving her attention to the gentleman on the other side and giving him a view of her glossy blond hair. Her skin appeared as soft and silky as it had when she was younger. He raised his hand and almost allowed his index finger to trace the line of her jaw.
Almost. Yet he noticed the current Lord Worthington glaring at him. Richard lifted his wineglass in a salute, but the younger man did not respond in kind. Instead, he canted his head toward his wife as she spoke in hushed tones, and nodded toward someone on his side of the table. If there was going to be trouble from Worthington, Richard should discover it as soon as possible.
After the second course was served, Worthington rose, holding up his glass. “To Miss Stern and my cousin Merton. May they have a long and happy marriage.”
As she participated in the toast, Patience smiled, even though a tear hovered on her thick, dark blond lashes. Then she sniffed, and before she could reach her reticule, he had his handkerchief out, dabbing the corner of her eye.
“What are you doing?” she whispered fiercely. “Stop it this instant. You will draw attention to us.”
“Why were you crying?” His tone was sharper than he’d wanted it to be, but he couldn’t bear for her to be sad or in pain.
“Tears of happiness.” Her fingers fluttered as if to wave him away. “What does it matter to you in any event?”
“You should know the answer to that question.” He trailed one finger down the soft skin of her bare arm, causing her to tremble. “I want you, Pae.”
Her spine went rigid. “Do not call me that.”
He took a sip of wine. “You used to like it when I murmured it in your ear.”
“That,” she said in a cold tone most probably meant to put him in his place, “was a very long time ago.”
Another toast was made, putting an end to their discussion. . . temporarily. “I understand there is to be at least one waltz at the ball this evening. I would like to reserve it.”
“I am not dancing. I must chaperone my daughter.”
Obviously, he had not done sufficient research into the guest list. “Why would your daughter be here?”
Her sigh was one of pure exasperation. “She and Lady Charlotte, Lady Worthington’s sister, are friends with Miss Stern. She is also a cousin of Lord Merton. So you see, I have no time for your games.” Pausing, Pae raised her chin in a somewhat pugnacious manner. “Whatever they might be.”
What she said made sense, but something was not quite right. Naturally, one would think that a mother would chaperone her daughter. Yet, yet . . . “I never understood the reason you did not bring your children home.”
“That was not an option open to me.”
Why the devil not? The only time he had gone to her father after he’d returned to England, he’d been baldly told that she would be very well off if she survived her husband.
“Worthington is their guardian, and would not even entertain the suggestion that they reside anywhere but in his house.”
Bloody hell!Why the deuce hadn’t Richard asked Almeria Bellamny how things stood?Because you are too damned proud to go begging for information.
For years, he had listened eagerly to every tidbit dropped about Pae, and he had waited for her to have her fun and come home. To come to him.
