The Ugly Duckling Debutante_FINAL-3 (15 page)

He bent to kiss her cheek only to be met with bristling coldness from her eyes and voice.

“How you find ways to compliment and insult me all in one sentence is beyond me, really it is.” She pushed back toward her seat opposite him and gazed out the window, though it was too dark to see anything.

Curse women everywhere! “What do you mean insult you? I truly mean what I say. They will eat you right up, from the extravagantly low cut of your dress to the way it scandalously hugs every delicious curve of your body. Oh, and let’s not forget the way your lips form the perfect pout as if begging for some lovesick gentleman to take them with his own.” He leaned in. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do just fine tonight, Sai. Please just remember we are betrothed.”

Chapter Ten

He was jealous, plain and simple. She would have thought someone of his reputation didn’t experience jealousy, or any human emotion for that matter. How could he after doing the things he’d done? Instead of trying to ravish her, Nicholas was scolding her, punishing her for being something she wasn’t. It was upsetting and aggravating all at the same time! Her stomach clenched as she thought of his reaction to her. It was as if the progress she had thought they made in their friendship was for naught.

Her thoughts turned dark, mainly because the only person she really wanted to pay attention to her was angrily staring out the window as if begging God to send lightning to strike the carriage. If body language was in fact an actual way to communicate, Nicholas’s arms were crossed as he leaned his muscular torso against the side of the carriage. His brows were furrowed—his lips in a thin line.

Two can play that game
, she thought. For the first time in her life, she was tired. Had she not gotten what she desired? To look the part of the sparkling debutante? She subconsciously smoothed down her skirt. It was a painful concept to accept that even if she was beautiful on the outside, it didn’t make her feel whole on the inside. She stuck her tongue out at Nicholas in anger then crossed her arms.

“Saw that,” he said still looking out the window.

“Amazing you can see at all,” she muttered to herself.

She was rewarded with a slight shake of his shoulders to show his laughter. She reminded herself not to make him laugh, his smile made her want to weep. He was beautiful, like a fallen angel. His bright eyes had the ability to pierce right through to her soul. Never mind that his kisses turned her to liquid. No wonder women left their husbands. He was enticing indeed, not that she would ever give into any of his immoral displays of affection. She was, after all, a strong morally upright girl and wasn’t he reformed? It was difficult to tell sometimes. Every time they were alone, he either insulted her or kissed her. Infuriating man.

The carriage jerked to a stop. Nicholas held out his hand as she stepped down from the carriage. “Try not to trip,” he whispered into her ear as they went into Almack’s. People everywhere were dressed in the most famous of fashions. It made her self-conscious enough to look at her own gown to make sure it was still in place.

“I’d tell you if it wasn’t,” Nicholas murmured.

Add mind reading to his list of attributes
, she thought, stubbornly jutting her chin into the air. He escorted her to the refreshment table and sat down in a nearby chair. Apparently that’s all he was to do this night, sit and watch her talk with every other available gentleman. Weren’t those who were betrothed supposed to look betrothed? To look happy together, like they were in love? What would people think when they saw him flirting with other women?

Sara had engaged in several conversations about the weather, which nearly bored her to tears, when Sir Rawlings approached and asked her to dance.

“With pleasure,” she accepted with the brightest smile she could muster. It was a slower dance, one which left both partners adequate time to talk and flirt, which she took full advantage of.

If her own betrothed was going to be pigheaded and so full of himself that he would not take notice of her, she wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. As Rawlings made her laugh again, she took a turn and saw Renwick’s cold eyes boring through her. She tripped on her gown but was saved by Rawlings’ hands as he reached out and braced her arms. Looking into his eyes she began to feel like he had cornered her rather than rescued her. Something predatory lurked behind those eyes and it made her uncomfortable.

“Are you all right, Sai?” Rawlings’ voice was laced with fake concern. His hands were still firmly placed on her shoulders moving uncomfortably closer to her chest. Either she was the worst dance partner ever, or he was trying to use her vulnerability for his gain.
 
She shouldn’t allow Nicholas’s strange moods to dictate how she treated others, even if the others she referred to were dogs like Rawlings. It was too unlike her.

If she weren’t already feeling uncomfortable in a man’s arms, she might have tried to apologize, but she bristled over the fact that she had not given Rawlings permission to use her Christian name however fake it was. Only Renwick called her Sai. When he said her name, she thought it sounded exotic, but on Rawlings’ lips it sounded more like the sigh of a wanton woman when cornered in the ballroom. She forced a smile and continued dancing, but Nicholas’s angry stare burned into her back for the rest of the dance.

When Rawlings’ eyes jerked up Sara knew. Nicholas was behind her. He gave Rawlings a curt nod then grabbed Sara by the waist.

“A waltz,” he growled into her ear. She immediately tensed when the music started. She hadn’t danced a waltz in public with Renwick, nor had she ever wanted to. It was too embarrassing. Couldn’t everyone see the way he made her feel? It was suddenly apparent to her that much of the
ton
was watching them dance rather than dancing themselves. Sara tried to keep a smile on her face but found it difficult to concentrate as her legs kept brushing against his.
Oh dear
, she thought.
This cannot end well. It simply cannot.

Her breathing became more uneven until finally, by the grace of God, the dance ended. She sighed with relief, but not before Renwick leaned down to kiss her hand, and whisper once more into her ear, “You’re mine.”

“So, now I am your possession?” she asked through clenched teeth.

He smiled tensely. “My dear, what else would you be?”

“I hoped to be your wife.”

“Well, I hoped to never marry a manipulative woman of the
ton
; we can’t always get our way can we?” With that he bowed and motioned for another young gentleman to dance with her. The young man couldn’t have been any older than she and reeked of brandy. Nicholas was punishing her, but what had she ever done to him? None of his accusations were true. He was acting like an absolute cad! How dare he say that she had manipulated her! If anything it was the other way around! He was the one that was continually taking advantage of her by kissing her whenever he had the chance. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have ample opportunity to bridge the gap between them. In fact after looking at her dress it was obvious it would be something any man would find appealing. Even if it was a trifle too elaborate for her tastes. Surely Renwick noticed her? Or she hoped he would at least say something. Instead did he do upon seeing her? He looked down and asked if she was ready! The more she thought about it the more upset she became! Manipulative? What did he base his accusations on? It wasn’t fair of him to judge her based on nothing but his own sick assumptions.

The rest of the night went by so slow that Sara thought she might collapse into a fit of rage. Gentleman after gentleman asked her for a dance. Her feet were so tired, she thought they would fall off, and each man she met whispered into her ear poetry and songs of love. It wasn’t at all what she had expected.

Apparently ugly ducklings could hatch into swans. She just didn’t realize it wasn’t at all as exciting as she had read about in her novels. Most of the men were slightly foxed, if not completely, and let their hands roam a little too freely down the sides of her body. The others she danced with, the ones she at least found agreeable, ended up trying to trick her into going into the gardens with them. Had they no idea she was betrothed? Was this how Nicholas had behaved in order to earn his reputation? The thought dizzied her and the room suddenly began to swim. She needed to escape; she needed to get out of these God forsaken shoes and find fresh air.

Sara ran to the closest door and threw it open, revealing a tiny garden walkway; she hurried down the walkway toward the bench and turned around to see if anyone followed. Nicholas would be furious if he found her out here by herself.

She sat on the bench and let a lone tear escape her eye. Fairy tales were not true; they had it all wrong. It was about time she accepted that, even if now she somehow miraculously had a pretty face and dress, nothing would satisfy her unless she had someone to love her for her heart and the way she laughed. She sighed and threw off a shoe, moaning in ecstasy at the feel of the grass against her stockings. It felt so good she decided to throw off her other shoe.

“Why are you throwing shoes at me?” Nicholas’s deep voice penetrated the darkness. His perfectly chiseled face wore a smug grin that he apparently reserved only for her.

“Oh, I apologize, my lord,” she retorted. “If I had known you were back there, I would have thrown them much harder.”

“Which is why I kept my silence until both shoes were already out of reach of those catapults masquerading as dainty hands.” He sat down, still wearing a smirk, though her tone did cause him to wince. “What are you doing out in the gardens by yourself, and stripping out of your shoes, no less?”

“I should be asking you the same thing, my lord.” He held the shoe out to her but pushed her hand out of the way when she reached for it. Instead he laid the shoe effortlessly on the ground next to her exposed stockings. Her face flushed red just thinking about the scandal she caused.

“It’s not scandalous unless you let me see your ankles.”

She smiled.

“Wait. Are you going to let me see your ankles, because if you are—” He laughed.

She liked him this way, easy to talk to, happy. It was better than the brooding mood he seemed to lapse so easily into at the slightest provocation. “You’re happier outside,” she found herself musing.

He sighed. “I’m happier when I’m away from all of that.” He pointed back toward the giant ballroom. “I guess you could say I’ve sowed my wild oats and now want nothing more than to retire to the country like an old man.”

“You're hardly old!” She giggled. “I mean, of course, you’re older than me by quite a few years.” Nicholas glared at her. “But you’re not ancient.”

“Your compliments restore me to youthful vitality, I assure you.” He gallantly put his hand over his heart and grinned, revealing a perfect view of his captivating smile.

She suddenly felt light as a feather, although the turmoil of the evening weighed heavily on her heart.

“Why is it,” he leaned in, “that every time we attend a gathering, I find you outside doing something scandalous?”

“It was hot?” she offered, more as a question. He reached to brush some hair from her face.

“Try again,” he said.

Sara was rapidly running out of reasons to explain to him why she kept escaping the clutches of the
ton
. “I don’t like to be stared at,” she answered looking down, and it was the truth. If she was really being honest with herself, it had always unsettled her to be gawked at—ugly or pretty, it didn’t matter. It made her feel like who she was on the inside was of no importance.

“That’s silly,” he said quickly. “Why wouldn’t a woman such as yourself—and notice I didn’t use the word normal—want to be admired?”

She exhaled. “Because I don’t believe it’s the outside that counts.”

Nicholas seemed perplexed by her statement, almost as if he thought she was bluffing. He folded his arms across his chest and spoke softly, “What about the inside then? What if your inside is as black as your outside?”