Lord Blackwood's Valentine Ball: An Authentic Regency Romance by Arabella Sheraton Page A

marry the woman who will share his life.” He gazed at her. “Sometimes that search becomes a quest that seems impossible, but he must persevere.”
    His eyes were mesmerising, and Patience dropped her gaze to avoid revealing anything of her own feelings. Lorna. She must remember he spoke about his love for Lorna.
    “But if a man truly loves the woman of his dreams, he must be bold and declare himself,” she said, lifting her chin in a defiant gesture and looking at him. “He cannot leave her wondering, guessing, thinking this or that, and perhaps coming to a wrong conclusion.”
    He nodded slowly. “You mean he must not fear rejection?”
    “Of course not!” she cried.
    Mrs. Sutcliffe, demonstrating an acute sensitivity to noise even while in a deep slumber, mumbled under her breath.
    Patience continued in a fierce whisper. “Rejection? I think not, your lordship. That man should rejoice in the knowledge that he is loved, truly loved with a burning passion that the lady might be too shy to reveal.”
    He caught her by one hand. “Too shy to reveal? Oh, Miss Cherwell, you have given me such hope. Do you think she fears this passion might not be reciprocated? Does she fear rejection?”
    “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “Just think what it means if a woman displays her feelings to a man, sentiments that others might consider unseemly. They would judge her harshly.”
    “But she must not care what others think,” he said in a voice that sounded strangely hoarse, as if he struggled with some repressed emotion. “If only she knew that he reciprocates her ardour with a consuming love that he would give anything to reveal. He burns inside for her touch, her approval, her consent, and for the slightest indication that he may proceed without fear.”
    Patience gazed deep into his eyes. “He may proceed, my lord, without the slightest fear and secure in the knowledge that he is loved beyond all bounds of propriety, that the lady would give anything to find herself at one with him, joined to him irrevocably in life and love!”
    “And what about an age difference?” he whispered. “What if the man is more than a few years older than the woman he loves? Will their love endure?”
    Something squeezed her heart as his words meant the final confirmation of his adoration for young, beautiful, vivacious Lorna. Twenty years was a big gap between Lorna and Lord Blackwood. However, an age difference was not so important, not when two people loved each other. She owed it to her friend to encourage him. She had to press on, no matter if the task broke her heart.
    “What is age,” she whispered back to him, “when two minds think as one, two hearts beat as one, and two bodies are joined as one? The union of mind, body, and spirit transcends age.”
    Patience breathed hard as she spoke, and he continued to stare at her. He did not speak, and his face, already so dear to her, was as familiar to her as her own. Every detail of his features burned into her consciousness. She was floating; uplifted by a thrilling throbbing of blood in her veins, by an intense feeling that overwhelmed her. She leaned towards him in an alarmingly intimate fashion. A mere hair’s-breadth separated their faces. The tiniest movement from either of them would bring their lips together. She sat back and he released her hand.
    “Pardon me,” he said. “I was captivated by the fervour, the strength contained in your reply.”
    Patience, flustered, looked around for the charcoal she had dropped. “Oh, my apologies, your lordship. I am not sure what came over me to speak so freely about…er…matters of love. I am sure you consider me forward or impudent.”
    “Not at all,” he said. “I am grateful for an open, honest answer in a society where people hide their true feelings and emotions behind a meaningless repartee that reveals nothing of the person’s real sentiments.” He smiled in a warm, intimate way. “You have set my heart at rest.”
    He