Lady Derby closely. With her thick hair arranged in a wondrously intricate style atop her head, her dark, flashing eyes, her flawless skin and pleasingly curved figure, she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room. Her title and fortune were more closely aligned with Anthony’s than those of any other woman in the room, as well.
Ginny narrowed her gaze at Anthony and Lady Derby as they danced and conversed and even smiled into each other’s eyes, then turned to her grandaunt. “I think I shall go look for something to drink in the supper room” She sailed away without another glance but knew Anthony watched her go. She could feel his gaze hot on her back and suspected Lady Derby might be as interested in every detail of her person as Ginny was in hers.
She raised her chin just a fraction. After all, a duchess did not let her knees go out from under her when faced with the mere hint of trouble. Nevertheless, she found a chair to sink into the moment she was beyond Lady Derby’s scope and burst into tears. She was grateful Grandaunt had stayed behind and would never know how she fell so completely to pieces. It would not do for anyone to see her otherwise but in total possession of her emotions. A duchess did not cry in public. Perhaps not even in private. She tried to imagine her grandaunt undone by tears and could not.
The clapping and stamping of the contra dance going on in the next room came to a halt before Ginny could stem the flow of tears. She had just stood and stepped to the sideboard to ladle out a cup of punch when she heard a much-loved voice from the doorway.
“Allow me,” Anthony said. Before she could utter a word, he had stepped to her side, poured the punch, taken her hand in his, and placed the cup gently in her grasp. “I am told the next set is to be a waltz, and I have it on very good authority you are a dab hand at waltzing. Will you so honor me, Miss Delacourt?”
Ginny felt the blush rise in her face and hastily looked around the room to determine if any of the people milling about had noticed their exchange. She knew their betrothal had not yet been announced, even if she did not know the reason why, and she felt the importance of being discreet. However, there could be nothing exceptionable with regard to their dancing together. It was why she had come.
“My lord, I should be delighted.” Abandoning the cup of punch after only one sip, she put her hand in his and allowed herself to be led to the queue of couples lining up to dance. She tried not to think of how she would be thoroughly inspected in just the same way she had Lady Derby-indeed, the way every woman Anthony partnered that night would be-but it was to no avail. Her mouth went suddenly dry, and her legs once again threatened to give out beneath her.
“Come, Miss Delacourt,” Anthony said. “I’m not going to eat you!” Then, soft and low, so no one but she could hear, he added, “I must confess, when I saw you first tonight, it was all I could do to keep from rushing to your side and soundly kissing you”
“Anthony!” she hissed. “Have a care. Everyone will see my blushes and wonder what you are saying to cause them”
His reply was lost, for just then a chord was struck, and the waltzing began. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” She dared to glance up and was bathed in the brilliance of his smile, one she hadn’t seen but a handful of times in all the days she had known him. The real him.
“I said, let them see your blushes!” he replied with a squeeze of her hand in his. “They will only think how splendid you look in them”
“You wicked man,” she said in a playful air, one totally at odds with the glow of gratitude she felt, bathed in the warmth of his approval. “Why, they shall have much opportunity to decide how I look in them now!” She glanced away to gain some composure-a hopeless endeavor, considering the heat of his hand at her waist and the proximity of his lips to her
Ginny narrowed her gaze at Anthony and Lady Derby as they danced and conversed and even smiled into each other’s eyes, then turned to her grandaunt. “I think I shall go look for something to drink in the supper room” She sailed away without another glance but knew Anthony watched her go. She could feel his gaze hot on her back and suspected Lady Derby might be as interested in every detail of her person as Ginny was in hers.
She raised her chin just a fraction. After all, a duchess did not let her knees go out from under her when faced with the mere hint of trouble. Nevertheless, she found a chair to sink into the moment she was beyond Lady Derby’s scope and burst into tears. She was grateful Grandaunt had stayed behind and would never know how she fell so completely to pieces. It would not do for anyone to see her otherwise but in total possession of her emotions. A duchess did not cry in public. Perhaps not even in private. She tried to imagine her grandaunt undone by tears and could not.
The clapping and stamping of the contra dance going on in the next room came to a halt before Ginny could stem the flow of tears. She had just stood and stepped to the sideboard to ladle out a cup of punch when she heard a much-loved voice from the doorway.
“Allow me,” Anthony said. Before she could utter a word, he had stepped to her side, poured the punch, taken her hand in his, and placed the cup gently in her grasp. “I am told the next set is to be a waltz, and I have it on very good authority you are a dab hand at waltzing. Will you so honor me, Miss Delacourt?”
Ginny felt the blush rise in her face and hastily looked around the room to determine if any of the people milling about had noticed their exchange. She knew their betrothal had not yet been announced, even if she did not know the reason why, and she felt the importance of being discreet. However, there could be nothing exceptionable with regard to their dancing together. It was why she had come.
“My lord, I should be delighted.” Abandoning the cup of punch after only one sip, she put her hand in his and allowed herself to be led to the queue of couples lining up to dance. She tried not to think of how she would be thoroughly inspected in just the same way she had Lady Derby-indeed, the way every woman Anthony partnered that night would be-but it was to no avail. Her mouth went suddenly dry, and her legs once again threatened to give out beneath her.
“Come, Miss Delacourt,” Anthony said. “I’m not going to eat you!” Then, soft and low, so no one but she could hear, he added, “I must confess, when I saw you first tonight, it was all I could do to keep from rushing to your side and soundly kissing you”
“Anthony!” she hissed. “Have a care. Everyone will see my blushes and wonder what you are saying to cause them”
His reply was lost, for just then a chord was struck, and the waltzing began. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” She dared to glance up and was bathed in the brilliance of his smile, one she hadn’t seen but a handful of times in all the days she had known him. The real him.
“I said, let them see your blushes!” he replied with a squeeze of her hand in his. “They will only think how splendid you look in them”
“You wicked man,” she said in a playful air, one totally at odds with the glow of gratitude she felt, bathed in the warmth of his approval. “Why, they shall have much opportunity to decide how I look in them now!” She glanced away to gain some composure-a hopeless endeavor, considering the heat of his hand at her waist and the proximity of his lips to her
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