Waltzing With the Wallflower (5 page)

Ambrose fought to keep his face indifferent as he watched his brother and Cordelia dance. Of course it was kind of Anthony to dance with Cordelia. Why should he of all people be jealous that the lady in question happened to also share her rare musical laughter with Anthony?

Preposterous! He hadn’t been jealous of his brother, not once in his life! He shook his head but found he couldn’t keep his gaze from raking the couple on the dance floor. She was exquisite. The blue gown draped across her curves quite nicely and Ambrose found when she smiled, the small dimple that appeared made his heart slam into his chest. Peculiar, that dimple, as if it was meant to tease or taunt, for both times when it made its presence known he felt somewhat enraptured with touching it, or kissing it.

He took a steadying breath. He really had no one to blame but himself. It seemed Cordelia had the correct idea in hiding her beauty behind the plants, for now that she was out in the open it was if a star was shining in Almack’s, a star named Cordelia. Her wavy blonde hair was quite the thing, tousled into a loose chignon. Several pieces of her hair naturally fell on the curve of her neck and he found himself again staring.

Just then Anthony said something else to the lady and she laughed. The sound piercing the assembly hall, drawing the attention he knew she despised, but instead of cowering she merely lowered her head and continued to smile.

Waves of possessiveness washed over him as his breathing increased, when was the blasted dance to end? For it had to be the longest dance of the night!

“Hawthorne? I’ve been looking for you, my lord.” Lady Levien stepped directly in front of his line of sight. In a moment of panic, he almost asked to be excused but knew better than to say anything of the sort to a patroness.

“How may I be of service?” He inclined his head but kept a trained eye on the couple.

“I mean to ask after Lady Cordelia. She is exquisite, is she not?” At this Lady Levien turned to glance at the couple and let out a feminine sigh. “Terrible what happened to her family. I cannot imagine forcing my own child into servanthood to cover a debt. It truly is a Cinderella story, don’t you think, my lord?”

“Surely,” he answered, though he wasn’t sure what a wallflower and Cinderella had in common.

“To think,” the lady continued, “all that time making dresses for the wealthy society of France, to never have her own debut or go to a ball until now. I commend you, Hawthorne. If anyone deserves to be the toast, it is she.”

Before he had a chance to speak or close his gaping mouth for that matter, the lady continued. “I’ve also done my part, as you can see.” She nodded towards the other patronesses and noticed Lady Trowbridge talking with them looking as if she would explode with excitement in that very instant. “I hope you do not mind, dear.”

“Not in the least.” He smiled and then glanced to see the end of the dance where Anthony bowed over Cordelia’s hand and kissed the air above her delicate fingers.

“I take it you are not courting the girl?”

Blast, the woman was still talking. Could she not see he had serious business to attend to? Business matters including a girl with curly hair and a dimple, business of tasting and touching and…

“Lord Hawthorne?”

“I apologize. You were asking about my intentions towards the girl?”

She nodded her head, an amused expression across her face.

“Well, I—” He took a deep breath. “That is, we are just acquaintances. Very good acquaintances.” He grinned.

Lady Levien’s eyes narrowed into a suspicious expression.

“Do not misunderstand me, my lady. I meant merely that we are friends, nothing more. I would love for her to find someone to share her life with. Her happiness is my only intention.”

Lady Levien’s demeanor relaxed immediately, and she held up her hand. He kissed it as she curtsied and left to rejoin the other patronesses. It was in that moment that Ambrose realized he was sweating. His need was such that only Cordelia could lift him out of his current state of puzzlement.

Greedily, he searched for her only to find Wilde asking her permission to dance. Curse his friends and family!

He marched over to the couple just in time to be pulled back by the strong arms of his brother.

“Ambrose? You look as though you mean to start a fight.”

“Never,” Ambrose answered, chest heaving.

“Say, this wouldn’t be about Cordelia, would it? I find she is delightful, quite beautiful, in fact. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ambrose watched longingly as Wilde and Cordelia began a reel, and he winced as she smiled at Wilde.

“Yes.” Ambrose’s tone sounded dry, indifferent, possibly even a trifle cold. But on the inside, he was burning.

“She’s quite a witty little thing once you get her started,” Anthony said, lifting his eyebrow in his brother’s direction. “But I daresay you’ve already discovered the jewel that is her personality, haven’t you?”

Ambrose bit his lip in frustration and turned to face his brother head on. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing at all.” Anthony lifted his hands in surrender. “Merely speculating.”

“Care to speculate elsewhere?” Ambrose offered curtly.

Anthony laughed. “Dear brother, it is a bet. Perhaps you would do well to remember that? After all, she could make a brilliant match this Season, just look at how much appreciation she is already gaining from the gentlemen?”

Ambrose told himself not to look, that by looking he was allowing his brother to again control him and make him even more jealous than he already was. The trouble, it seemed, with being twins, was that his brother knew him too well. Merely by standing near him, Ambrose guessed Anthony knew exactly what un-holy thoughts were going through his mind.

Unable to back down from anyone, especially his brother, Ambrose lifted his gaze and noted that unfortunately, Anthony was correct. Several men were watching Wilde and Cordelia, murmuring to one another and smiling with glee.

Well, he couldn’t very well fight them all off.

He grimaced, clearly alarmed with the idea that he needed to fight anyone off.

Then again…

Were they not friends? Close friends, that is. Who better to help her weed through the potential suitors than the one who started it all in the first place? At least he was secure in the fact that she was a shy girl, and men wouldn’t naturally approach her unless she was more welcoming.

Smugly, he finally felt he could breathe a little easier.

The dance finished none too soon, and Cordelia was back at his side.

“Do you think you’ll expire before the night’s end, Cordelia?”

She tilted her head and captured her bottom lip between her teeth. He found he couldn’t look away as she shrugged in response.

“Air?” he croaked.

“Ambrose?” Her voice was soft, so very quiet and tempting. “Are you well, my lord?”

He pulled at his cravat. “It is rather hot, don’t you agree?” Stifling was what it was. “Would you accompany me outside for a brief respite, Cordelia?”

“Of course.” She took his arm as he guided her to the open doors leading to the back terrace. “You look flushed, Ambrose. Perhaps we should retire for the evening?”

Of all the things for her to say. Did it have to be
flushed
and
retire for the evening
in the same sentence? Put it like that, and rest assured the only thoughts in his mind were enough to drive any sane man to drink. Pictures of the soft-spoken wallflower in his bedroom, that wild hair, her perfectly untouched lips—or at least he assumed them to be.

If anything, being outside was even more stifling, for they were alone. He must be going mad. He was with a wallflower, an innocent with no experience of the world, and here he was ready to choke to death on his cravat because she unwittingly tempted him.

It was the pressure of winning the bet.

It had to be.

“There is no need to retire, Cordelia,” he answered, finally gaining a deep breath of London air, which to be honest wasn’t at all refreshing. “You seemed to be enjoying the dancing. And wonder of all wonders, you did not faint from all the attention. In fact, you seem to be having—dare I say it—fun?”

At that she laughed, the intoxicating musical laughter that earlier had penetrated him leaving him defenseless and utterly dumbstruck.

“I did enjoy myself, but I imagine it was the company more than anything. Sir Wilde told me stories of your childhood with Anthony. And Anthony, in turn, told me of your times at university.”

And that was why she was laughing?

Because of him?

Asinine dunderheads, he’d kill them both. He’d march back in there right now and—

Cordelia laid a gloved hand across his forearm. “I had no idea you were such a lover of the arts, my lord. Or that you studied botany at university. Interesting hobby, considering you accused me of having an unhealthy fascination with foliage.”

He smiled; his senses tingled with her scent. “Yes, well, the plants you had chosen to stand by can cause a woman… harm.” Harm? If he could have groaned, he would have.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow quirked. “How so?”

Yes,
how so
? Lovely question. “Well…” He gave his brain adequate time to find a solution to his predicament. “You see… when a woman of such a porcelain complexion stands too near, it is believed that plant can secrete certain toxins which, when in close contact with such delicate sensibilities, can transform one into—”

“A wallflower?” she offered, and then slapped her hands across her mouth.

Ambrose burst out laughing. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Forgive me,” Cordelia said, still blushing from her outburst. “I should not have interrupted that interesting…speech.”

Her head fell forward, most likely embarrassed still. A strand of her unruly hair dropped across her cheek. Without thought, Ambrose reached out to push it behind her ear, but it would not stick.

He tried again, this time his hand shaking. Cordelia wrapped her fingers around his. “Is there something wrong with my hair? It has always been so difficult to manage; I almost always pull it back tight to keep it contained.”

“Never,” he said absentmindedly as their hands touched.

“My lord?”

“Never again are you to contain that glorious hair of yours.”

Her breath hitched; he noticed, because the instant it happened his eyes darted to her parted lips. He leaned in, lightly inviting her mouth to taste his. She seemed unsure, frozen in place. He lifted her chin and ever so gently brushed a light kiss across her lips. If lightning would have struck him where he stood, he wouldn’t have been shocked, for the minute her innocent lips came into contact with his, he was a changed man.

An electric current hummed between their bodies. Without asking permission or thinking of their current situation, or the bet for that matter, he laid claim to her lips again. She didn’t push against him. Instead she sighed as he pressed his body against hers and used his tongue to part her lips further. Lust shot through him at alarming speed as Cordelia let out a sensual sigh, entangling her fingers into his hair. With a little tug, she had his complete devotion and attention. In fact, he was quite ready to ruin her and be done with it. Tentatively, she tasted him as he had her. At that moment the fires of Hades couldn’t have put a stop to his sensual exploration of her mouth. His hands slid down her waist memorizing every line of her body…

“Ahem, I can see I’m interrupting. Good thing too, considering the circumstances.”

Ambrose lifted his gaze and looked straight into the face of his twin brother.

“Devil take it, what do you want, Anthony?” He had yet to release Cordelia out of sheer possessiveness.

“Well, apparently not the same thing you want, eh, Ambrose?” He winked at Cordelia, who blushed profusely, and then cleared his throat again. “I believe this dance was promised to me.” He held out his hand.

“Yes, of course!” Cordelia’s words were too rushed. “Forgive me, Lord Maddox, I—” She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she firmly grasped his elbow as he led her back inside. Only when they crossed the threshold did Anthony turn around and shake his smug little head in Ambrose’s direction.

Chapter Six

The Rescue

If anyone had told her that her first kiss would be with Hawthorne, she would have laughed and said they were delusional. Instead, as she sat in the carriage across from her aunt and uncle, all she could think of was the incessant buzzing she felt across her lips, a lingering reminder of his lips on hers.

She was more curious than anything. Not necessarily mad. It helped, of course, that he seemed just as shocked as she when they pulled apart. Looking out the window beside her, she relived the memory and wondered if Hawthorne was thinking about it too.

Every little girl dreams of her first kiss, imagines what it will be like when her knight in shining armor storms in on his valiant white horse to rescue her from captivity. Cordelia was no exception. It was the one fantasy she could run to that would occupy her mind for the long hours and years of service she owed to her father’s debtors.

Of course, her knight never came, and the dreams of the little girl who once was slowly faded with time. By the time her aunt and uncle agreed to sponsor her debut, Cordelia no longer clung to unrealistic fantasies. She was the daughter of scandal and of ruined parents. There wasn’t a gentleman among the ton who would see his way clear to rescue her from her state of disgrace.

It was best not to allow her hopes to hang on a single stolen kiss.

But it was nice to feel wanted… even if just for a moment.

****

The weeks of her first Season seemed to fly by. At every event her card was full before she had a chance to find the best corner for concealment. Somehow, however, it seemed that Lord Hawthorne took every waltz on her card, as if the two of them alone owned the dance.

They didn’t discuss the kiss. And she told herself it didn’t matter. He had likely shared innumerable kisses with the ladies of the ton; he would likely share innumerable more, so it wouldn’t do to force the issue with him. Instead, she pushed the matter from her mind and focused on enjoying her moment in the sun, which was certain to end soon enough.