Page 35 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
“I don’t know that there’s better or worse. I suspect there will just bedifferent.”
“Words of wisdom from Venus, I assume.”
She smiled. “She might have mentioned something along those lines. I’ve had a most educational few nights since Tillie’s departure. They shall stand me in good stead.”
Finally, he gave her a devilish grin. “I’m sure they will.”
They spoke no more as he swept her into the fray. She wished all her remaining dances belonged to him. She loved the way he held her, the way he watched her, the way they moved in tandem. She suspected once she was married, he’d never dance with her again. Oh, their paths would cross during family gatherings. They would be polite, cordial, but there would be no heated glances, no passions stirring beneath the surface.
The music ended long before she was ready. “Would you like to look my dance card over to determine if there is someone else you can bilk out of a dance?”
Slowly he shook his head. “No, I suspect we’ve already set enough tongues to wagging.” Never taking his gaze from hers, he brought her hand to his lips, allowed the heat from his mouth to seep through the cloth. “Enjoy the remainder of your evening, Miss Hammersley.”
Watching him stride away, she wondered if there would ever come a time when she didn’t feel a small measure of pain when he left her behind.
He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have danced with her. Yet, where she was concerned, he seemed unable to stop himself from doing the things he ought not.
A few minutes earlier, he’d seen Somerdale escort her into the gardens, and everything within him screamed that he should follow, that he should interfere, that he should ensure nothing untoward happened.
He’d made it to the edge of the terrace before rational thought returned. It was not his place to stop a gentleman from wooing her. He couldn’t be that selfish. So he moved to the distant shadows and listened as the breeze stirred the leaves, waited, like a forlorn pup that knew his mistress might never return to him. If she was smart, she wouldn’t. And if he knew anything at all about Gina, it was that she was smart.
“Hello, Lord Andrew.”
A voice that had once shimmered through him and brought pleasure now failed to stir even the slightest interest. Still, he knew it was dangerous not to face the Countess of Montley, and so he did. “Lady M.”
“You used to address me with such cherished endearments.”
“I cared for you then. I don’t now.”
“Oh, come. I’m certain there is still a part of you that stirs for me.”
Not even a quarter of an inch. Once he’d been mad for her. He’d thought it was love. Only now did he realize it hadn’t come close. What he’d felt for her had been a wild infatuation, but it would have eventually burned out. He might not have had the good fortune to realize it until after he’d wed her—if he’d had the chance to do so. But her own marriage had prevented that grave error in judgment from occurring. Strange how what had once pained him now filled him with overwhelming relief.
Stepping forward, she flattened her palm above his beating heart. It didn’t change its tempo. He would have given a stronger reaction if a fly had landed on him.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, her tone filled with innuendo and promises.
Had he missed her? In the beginning perhaps, but he hadn’t thought about her in intimate terms in years. Unlike Gina, whom he knew he would think about every day until he died. He would think of her smile and her laughter. He would remember her sitting on a bed with a harlot, grinning as she bested him at cards. He would think of her whenever he smelled violets, heard the shuffle of cards, tasted brandy, looked into green eyes.
“Do you recall how we used to meet at the Nightingale?” she asked, filling the silence that was stretching between them. “What fun we had. I was thinking perhaps it’s time we had a little reunion.”
She began to slide her hand lower; he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stilling her actions. “I’m no longer interested in what you have to offer.”
She tilted up her chin. “Is it that silly little American heiress? I saw you waltzing with her, saw the way you looked at her... the way you once looked at me.”
“I never looked at you the way I look at her.” He didn’t say the words to hurt her, but rather because they were true, because Gina deserved to have them spoken aloud, was worthy of his making it clear that what he felt for her in no way resembled what he’d once felt for Lady M. When he gazed on Gina, he saw dreams, possibilities, adventures between the sheets and beyond them.
With Lady M, he’d only ever seen sex. He couldn’t recall a single conversation with her of any significance. With her it had always been just ribald talk, innuendo, and crudity. She’d inflamed his desires, but they were quickly doused.
With Gina, the passion always persisted, never dimmed. He suspected it never would.
“She possesses a fortune,” Lady M said. “You can’t possibly think she’ll settle for a spare when she could have a titled gentleman.”
No, she wouldn’t settle nor would he want her to. Her happiness was more important than his. He wanted her to have everything she’d ever hoped to hold. Willingly he would stand in the shadows and find contentment in watching the joy she would exhibit in realizing her dreams with someone other than him.
His silence must have unnerved Lady M because she jerked her wrist free of his hold and spit out, “You’re a fool, Andrew. You always were.”
No. Before he’d been an idiot. There was a difference. While he may have foolishly fallen for Gina, he couldn’t regret it when she made him more than he’d ever been.
