Page 33 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
And he couldn’t, thanks to one stupid, obnoxious woman she didn’t even know. “I hope someday you will learn to love again. You deserve to be happy.”
He grinned. “I am happy.”
He unlocked the door, opened it, peered inside. “All is quiet.” Stepping back, he placed a final kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Gina. Enjoy the Waverly ball this evening.”
She almost told him she’d skip it if he wanted to enjoy another adventure with her, but the Season was nearing its end and if she didn’t want to be on the marriage block next year, she needed to attend every social engagement to which she was invited. “I’m rather certain I will. Your sister is chaperoning me, and will provide me with an introduction to any lord I haven’t already met. Not that there are many anymore. Which is quite a relief. For a time there, I feared the fault for the gents’ lack of interest rested more with me rather than Tillie’s scandal.”
“You could never be at fault.”
“Scandal has such dire consequences.”
“Which is the very reason you need to pop inside before we’re spotted.”
He was correct, even though she wanted to stay out here with him until the lark sang. “Good night, Andrew.” Rising up on her toes, she brushed a quick kiss across his bristled chin before dashing into the residence.
He closed the door, and she hurried up the stairs to her room. Each adventure with him was better than the last. It saddened her to know they’d soon be coming to an end.
Chapter 10
It was an odd thing, the following evening, to dance with an assortment of gentlemen at the Waverly ball, while maintaining the appearance of innocence. Gina was rather stupefied that none noticed she’d recently been consumed by passion. Pleasure was still radiating from her, her skin was sensitive to the touch, her limbs were at once lethargic and energized.
While she’d managed to slip into the residence without anyone the wiser, she rather wished she had been caught, but Andrew would resent her for that, would resent her forcing him into marriage. He loved having the life of a bachelor. She couldn’t live with herself if she stole that away from him.
So her only recourse for marriage involved welcoming the attentiveness of one of the gentlemen who now approached her with such ease. She might have favored them more had they, like Somerdale, sought her out while she lived beneath the shroud of scandal. While the earl’s devotion had been relatively subtle, at least he’d not shied completely away from her. However, if he ever learned of her recent scandalous behavior, he’d no doubt scamper for the hills. Not that she’d blame him.
Although she did think it unfair that men could seek out pleasure before marriage and women couldn’t. It had been so lovely she nearly burst into song whenever she thought about it—which was far too often. Fortunately, the gents thought it was their skill at dancing that caused her bright smile.
Lord Benson was her present partner. He was exceedingly graceful but not nearly as graceful at Andrew. She rather wished he was here tonight, not only to share a dance but the entirety of the evening. She missed him, and while she knew it wasn’t wise, she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“I preferred your earlier smile to your present frown,” Lord Benson said.
Heat warmed her face. “My apologies. My mind drifted off to where it shouldn’t.”
“That does not bode well for my courtship.”
Was he courting her? He’d yet to call on her, but he had sent flowers.
“I realize I have not been that attentive, but when your sister returns, I intend to call upon you—if you have no objections.”
“None whatsoever. It would be lovely.”
“When does she return?”
“Not for a few more days, although you are welcome to call on me at the Greystone residence.”
He grinned. “I shall do so.”
The music wafted into silence, and he escorted her from the dance floor to an area where several ladies were sitting.
“I shall count the minutes until I can call on you on the morrow,” Lord Benson said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles.
“I look forward to it.”
With a quick bow, he strode away.
“You know he’ll be taxing his brain to count that high,” a deep, masculine voice said from behind her, the richness of it shimmering up her spine.
Gina swung around. Her heart hammered within her chest. Andrew stood there in his black swallow-tailed coat, pristine white shirt, and cravat. “That was rather unkind.”
