Waltzing With the Wallflower by Rachel van Dyken, Leah Sanders Page B

his heel and left the group of idiots in his wake, making his way to the balcony, ignoring the whispers of those around him. It seemed his good intentions turned out to be nothing more than one more thing for the ton to trod on. Well, it would end here and now. Not good enough? She was already more than all of the women in his acquaintance put together!
    Irritated, he made his way to the balcony and noticed Cordelia already waiting for him. He released the breath he had been holding and reached out to touch her arm.
    She whipped around so quickly he stumbled backwards.
    “Is it true?” she asked, tears streaming down her soft face.
    “Pardon?” It was truly a night from Hell.
    She hiccupped and wiped a tear from her eye. “Is it true? Are you only paying me attention for your own personal gain?”
    “Of course not!” Feeling fierce and out of control he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her body into his. “You know me better than to be that type of man. I care for you deeply. I would never harm you in that way, Cordelia,” he added. She lifted her face to his, and he forgot the eloquent speech he was about to make on her behalf.
    “Cordelia, I—” He reached for her, wiping more stray tears from her cheeks, and then his lips followed. Her cheeks tasted of salt and rosewater. Losing his already unstable control, he drank her in—all of her.
    She stopped the kiss, gently pushing against his chest. “So none of it is true then?”
    “Cordelia, I think you would know if you were my mistress. In fact, I guarantee you would know, and you wouldn’t be as scandalized as you look right now. Though perhaps a bit more satisfied.”
    She blushed and pushed at him. “I’ve been the object of many conversations tonight, but being your mistress was one piece of gossip I wasn’t made privy to. Though I am relieved to know you don’t wish to proposition me. That wasn’t what I was referring to.”
    Ambrose pulled her into his arms again and kissed her, murmuring against her lips, “Then what has you so put out? For I won’t have you crying in my arms unless it’s from joy, my dear.”
    She sighed, nestled against his chest. “The bet. I was told you made a bet and that if I became the toast of the ton you would win.”
    He froze, unable to speak, move, or do anything except continue to hold her and try to think of a way he could either lie or distract her from the truth.
    “Let’s not talk about gossip,” he finally said as he lifted her chin to kiss her again.
    This time she pulled back, pain glistening in her eyes. “Tell me it’s not true, Ambrose.”
    He cursed, and looked away. “Cordelia, it isn’t important anymore. I care for you—you must see that!”
    “You care for me?” she echoed in a tiny voice.
    “Of course I do; you know I do.”
    “Then tell me the truth.”
    She had him there. “I was a fool! I wanted to help you, to pull you away from the wall. Anthony and I—”
    “Anthony was in on it too?”
    “Don’t forget Wilde as well, brother,” Anthony said as he joined them on the terrace.
    “Helpful,” Ambrose muttered under his breath. “Cordelia, as I said, what’s done is done, but it is of no importance anymore.”
    “Oh?” She lifted an angry brow. “Pray tell me why it isn’t important that you’ve lied to me for over three weeks. I’m in such suspense!”
    “It’s difficult when you look so angry! Nothing else matters now. As I said before, I care for you! I, I….” Why couldn’t he say love?
    “You what, Ambrose?” Her eyes looked hopeful.
    “I… It wasn’t just a bet. It isn’t just a bet anymore. This is about us, can’t you see? It’s more than a silly bet.”
    “A silly bet? Can I assume you’re labeling me as the silly part of this bet? Silly that I would be such an easy target? Naïve because of my family? Or just plain stupid because I fell for it so readily? For what other reason would a titled lord pay any mind to me? Or bother to kiss me