Waltzing With the Wallflower by Rachel van Dyken, Leah Sanders
Authors: Rachel van Dyken, Leah Sanders
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gazed after them for a moment as they sauntered onto the dance floor. Then she looked once again for shelter from the marauding eyes, hoping for a few moments to herself.
The gaggle of debutantes in the ladies’ salon had returned to the ballroom, and with secret pleasure, Cordelia recognized their envious glances glowering after Lady Cristina as she danced with the desirable Lord Maddox.
There was not a free corner in the room. No haven of any sort to be had in the great hall. And as luck would have it, Sir Bryan was scouring the room for her once more. She knew Hawthorne had told her never to chance it, but the balcony grew more and more inviting with each step nearer the aromatic would-be suitor took.
And then the waltz began playing again.
Chapter Seven
The Rumor
Ambrose had done his best to ignore Cordelia, subsequently ignoring his growing feelings about her all together. Yet he saved every waltz for her. His gaze quickly found the lady, as it so often did. It seemed his body, his eyes, … everything in him was fine-tuned to pick up her laugh or her presence without him knowing it.
As he slowly made his way to where she stood with her back facing him, he heard whispers of how she had single-handedly saved a young debutante. It seemed the closer he got, the more split the room was. Several other debutantes, the wallflowers, thought Cordelia to be the sweetest lady to grace the ton in years. Others, though their respect for Cordelia was still intact, thought she should have stayed out of the ordeal altogether.
Then he glimpsed the girl in question dancing with his brother, a gleeful smile on her face. Immediately he realized what side he was on, for Cordelia saved the girl from the vicious tales that would have ruined the girl’s first Season. Her dress wasn’t of the same fashion the other ladies wore, but her face was beautiful, especially when paired with the smile she now wore.
Cordelia had stepped outside of her insecurity. She sacrificed herself in order to appease another young girl. It was a rare thing to behold in his social circle, and he found the feelings he had carefully pushed aside flared to life all at once, nearly choking him as he reached her side.
“I believe this dance is mine,” he whispered behind her.
She turned and flashed a smile. “But, my lord, you haven’t written your name on my card.”
“I didn’t think I had to, considering it is our dance. Shall we?”
Blushing, she curtsied and took his proffered arm. He could hear the fluttering of tongues and fans as he escorted the lady to the middle of the dance floor. With a brooding expression he silently wondered if the chatter about them was good or bad.
As he took her hand in his and looked into her eyes, he realized for once in his life, and for once since the bet, he couldn’t care less what people were saying. All he wanted was to hold the girl who had managed to creep inside his heart, and he hoped the dance would never end.
Ambrose pulled her closer than usual, relishing the feel of her satin gown on his gloved hands, closing his eyes as if to memorize the scent of her skin and the way her body curved in his outstretched hand.
“Ambrose?” she whispered. “I believe we are causing a stir.”
“Whatever do you mean?” He opened his eyes and noticed his brother talking with several women, their eyes ablaze and horror-stricken. Was he really holding the girl that close? Devil take it! He loved the girl. It shouldn’t matter.
Ambrose froze. Did it count that he said he loved her in his head rather than out loud? He hoped not, because it was a mistake—a terrible mistake. Men didn’t fall all over themselves after only a few weeks. Did they?
Cordelia sighed, and he found himself holding his breath. Did she think about the kiss? All evidence pointed to her forgetting about it completely, which quite bothered him. Was it not her first kiss? The thought that it hadn’t been flashed through his
The gaggle of debutantes in the ladies’ salon had returned to the ballroom, and with secret pleasure, Cordelia recognized their envious glances glowering after Lady Cristina as she danced with the desirable Lord Maddox.
There was not a free corner in the room. No haven of any sort to be had in the great hall. And as luck would have it, Sir Bryan was scouring the room for her once more. She knew Hawthorne had told her never to chance it, but the balcony grew more and more inviting with each step nearer the aromatic would-be suitor took.
And then the waltz began playing again.
Chapter Seven
The Rumor
Ambrose had done his best to ignore Cordelia, subsequently ignoring his growing feelings about her all together. Yet he saved every waltz for her. His gaze quickly found the lady, as it so often did. It seemed his body, his eyes, … everything in him was fine-tuned to pick up her laugh or her presence without him knowing it.
As he slowly made his way to where she stood with her back facing him, he heard whispers of how she had single-handedly saved a young debutante. It seemed the closer he got, the more split the room was. Several other debutantes, the wallflowers, thought Cordelia to be the sweetest lady to grace the ton in years. Others, though their respect for Cordelia was still intact, thought she should have stayed out of the ordeal altogether.
Then he glimpsed the girl in question dancing with his brother, a gleeful smile on her face. Immediately he realized what side he was on, for Cordelia saved the girl from the vicious tales that would have ruined the girl’s first Season. Her dress wasn’t of the same fashion the other ladies wore, but her face was beautiful, especially when paired with the smile she now wore.
Cordelia had stepped outside of her insecurity. She sacrificed herself in order to appease another young girl. It was a rare thing to behold in his social circle, and he found the feelings he had carefully pushed aside flared to life all at once, nearly choking him as he reached her side.
“I believe this dance is mine,” he whispered behind her.
She turned and flashed a smile. “But, my lord, you haven’t written your name on my card.”
“I didn’t think I had to, considering it is our dance. Shall we?”
Blushing, she curtsied and took his proffered arm. He could hear the fluttering of tongues and fans as he escorted the lady to the middle of the dance floor. With a brooding expression he silently wondered if the chatter about them was good or bad.
As he took her hand in his and looked into her eyes, he realized for once in his life, and for once since the bet, he couldn’t care less what people were saying. All he wanted was to hold the girl who had managed to creep inside his heart, and he hoped the dance would never end.
Ambrose pulled her closer than usual, relishing the feel of her satin gown on his gloved hands, closing his eyes as if to memorize the scent of her skin and the way her body curved in his outstretched hand.
“Ambrose?” she whispered. “I believe we are causing a stir.”
“Whatever do you mean?” He opened his eyes and noticed his brother talking with several women, their eyes ablaze and horror-stricken. Was he really holding the girl that close? Devil take it! He loved the girl. It shouldn’t matter.
Ambrose froze. Did it count that he said he loved her in his head rather than out loud? He hoped not, because it was a mistake—a terrible mistake. Men didn’t fall all over themselves after only a few weeks. Did they?
Cordelia sighed, and he found himself holding his breath. Did she think about the kiss? All evidence pointed to her forgetting about it completely, which quite bothered him. Was it not her first kiss? The thought that it hadn’t been flashed through his
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