Her heart went flying straight to him and she was not sure she would be able to recover it. “Not this evening, but thank you.”
“I would not want you to forget. A lady as talented as you should know you are appreciated.”
Vivian’s chest contracted painfully, afraid of being hurt again. If only, if only, if only.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vivian paled and her eyes widened almost in trepidation, as if Rupert had said something to frighten her. No matter what she had been through before, he vowed she would know that he cared for her above any other woman.
From the moment Vivian entered the drawing room, he’d fought to remain as close to her as possible, showing her how his affections were growing, edging out other gentlemen who attempted to stand next to her. He’d make damn sure the other men knew she was his, as well.
The entire time he escorted her around the rooms, his fingers itched to touch her, from her small bottom to her firm breasts. His arms wanted nothing more than to hold her. But mostly, he wanted to taste her, her mouth, and every inch of her body. It was hell not being able to carry her off. Damn if Robert hadn’t been right. She was turning into his obsession, and more. Rupert could barely let her go at the end of the set.
Before the end of the Season she would be his. He would make sure of it.
When a waltz started, he gave thanks to the Deity.
Bending his head, he whispered into Vivian’s ear, “Dance with me.”
She nodded shyly, and he took her in his arms. They moved gracefully together. As if they were meant to be one.
“What made you so interested in politics?” Vivian asked.
“From the time I was born I was taught it was my responsibility to care for my dependents; taking my seat in the Lords was part of that duty. Seeing the damage the war did to the people and lands on the Continent made me decide to help anyone I could who was in need. I’m fortunate that I already had a group of friends who thought like me.”
“You mean the Eveshams, Marshs, and Rutherfords?”
“Yes. There are other friends as well. The Earl of Huntley and Viscount Wivenly are not here this Season. They both married several months ago and have new babies.” He wanted to add that she would meet them later; perhaps at their wedding. But it might be too soon. “You would like them as well.”
“I’m sure I would.” She smiled, yet her voice was sad.
Rupert took advantage of the turn and drew her in closer, tightening his hold on her. “I believe the ladies are planning a campaign to garner support for some of the legislation proposed. I’m sure they would appreciate your help.”
The corners of her lovely pink lips tipped up. “That would be enjoyable.”
“You should mention it to Phoebe.”
“Yes, I shall.”
Her tone was fainter than usual, and although it could be that the noise level of the parlor had risen, Rupert didn’t think so. Something was wrong with Vivian. She was not enjoying the evening as she should.
The music stopped. Tucking her hand in his arm, he snoodled with her to where his friends were gathering, moving as slowly as possible, enjoying having her next to him and not wanting to share her with anyone else.
By the time they arrived, the next set, a country dance, was starting. He glanced at Marcus, raising a brow.
“My lady”—Marcus bowed to Vivian—“may I have the honor of this dance?”
As before, her lips tilted up, however, the smile did not reach her eyes. “You may, my lord.”
Rupert bowed to Phoebe, and she shook her head. “Keep me company, if you would. I’m feeling a little tired.”
“Of course.” He hailed a footman and procured a glass of lemonade for her. “Unless you’d like champagne.”
“No, lemonade is just what I need.”
“I can remain here with you,” Vivian offered, concern shadowing her eyes.
“No, please. You dance and enjoy yourself.” Phoebe smiled, playfully shooing Vivian away. “I expected this. I was tired for the first three months the last time as well.”
