“Hmm.” She arched a brow.
Lawrence remembered her insinuation that he had been the one to behave poorly, not Miss Wynchester.
What must it be like tohaveto manipulate others into performing ordinary acts of kindness?
Miss York gestured at the clock. “Gaze upon the infinite vastness of time for as long as you please. I must return to my mother. Guests will soon be departing.”
“I’ll take you to her,” he offered.
But he would not be so forward as to stand by her side as the guests took their leave. There would be plenty of time for that once they were duke and duchess.
Instead, he made his way toward Miss Wynchester.
What was this pull she had over him? His limbs werehisto control, yet the only direction they turned in was hers. He felt taller, more powerful, and more exposed all at once.
She tucked Tiglet into her basket and rested her chin in her hand, her fingertips tapping lightly at her cheek. He wondered what she would taste like there, if he were to kiss the soft skin beneath her cheekbone, all the way to the sensitive crease at the lobe of her ear. He would run his finger along the edge of that perfect shell, then his tongue, then perhaps nip lightly before moving down to the pulse just beneath.
Ignoring her was impossible.
With their chins high and noses pinched, some said the Wynchesters were as common as flies. Lawrence rather suspected that if Miss Wynchester was wild and common, she was more like a dandelion. Strong and beautiful, able to spring back taller than before no matter how hard one tried to cut her down.
11
Although several peers and statesmen went straight from Parliament to Lady Quarrington’s soirée, Lawrence was the only man who had been counting down the minutes because he could not cease worrying about a Wynchester.
There were many reasons her evening might not have gone as desired: for example, not knowing how to dress or comport herself, having never received such an invitation before.
Simply because one’s name was Wynchester.
But Lawrence was not here forher, he assured himself as a footman whisked away his coat and hat. He had a future duchess to woo.
The butler accompanied him to the door of the ballroom and announced Lawrence’s arrival.
As hundreds of faces tilted his way, he could not help but wonder what the reaction had been to Miss Wynchester’s name.
Had she been allowed to cross the threshold? Was her cat peeking from a wicker basket? Had she found a more suitable gown? What if the prospect had proved too daunting, and she hadn’t come at all?
He could not blame her if that was the case. He’d been born to this world, and it still overwhelmed him.
From the moment Lawrence’s feet touched the ballroom floor, he greeted a never-ending current of acquaintances. Some calculating faces looked at him and saw an unclaimed title for their daughters. Some saw a potential vote in the House of Lords.
All that others saw was his father.
Soon there would be no more vowels to pay. The gossip could finally turn from the misdeeds of his father to the question of when Lawrence and his bride might expect an heir.
He would do everything in his power to ensurehischildren needn’t cringe whenever someone mentioned their father.
“But enough about auld lang syne,” droned the Marquess of Rosbotham, a well-respected statesman who had attended Eton with Lawrence’s father. “What is the meaning of that speech you gave yesterday? You’re as Tory as I am, of course you must be, but some of your wild ideas sound perilously close to the nonsense spouted by those liberal Whigs!”
“Nonsense” like social reform and caring for the plight of the common man, who had no entailed house to sleep in nor family treasures to fund his every desire.
“I believe in the sovereignty of king and church,” Lawrence assured the marquess. “But if ladies can support their little charities, should not gentlemen perform good works using the superior resources we possess?”
“Mmm.” Rosbotham’s eyes were suspicious, but as Lawrence had framed his point as a question of manliness and rank, the marquess found himself without an easy retort.
This was why Miss York’s father would be such a critical ally. They needed each other. Lawrence could sway votes in the House of Lords, and Mr. York was a favorite to be the next Speaker for the House of Commons.
“What about—” Rosbotham began, but Lawrence did not hear the rest of the marquess’s question.
