Seeing a familiar face in the crowd, Anette's heart dropped. Lord Roswell Westlake. She had been hopelessly in love with him since she’d first seen him, until their kiss changed everything. Now, he wanted nothing to do with her, and each time she saw him, it was a reminder of her broken heart.
Lord Roswell turned his head at that precise moment and their eyes locked. She should have looked away, being mortified that she had been caught staring, but she wasn’t ready to do so. His eyes had always held her transfixed, as if they had cast a spell over her.
He was far too handsome for his own good, boasting a square jaw, dark hair and broad shoulders. His eyes sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief.
Lord Roswell smiled, and it was that same smile that she remembered every time she closed her eyes. She wondered why he had to be so devilishly handsome.
Anette should acknowledge him in some way, but she didn’t want to encourage him to come over and speak to her. Acting the part of a coward, she dropped his gaze and turned her attention back towards her mother.
Her mother was in the process of pointing out all the eligible gentlemen in the ballroom and she wished she could escape onto the veranda. It was entirely too stuffy in the ballroom and this gown was rather uncomfortable.
“Don’t you agree?” her mother asked.
Anette offered her mother an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering.”
“You are hopeless, Child.”
“If that is the case, may we return home now?” Anette asked with a hopeful expression. She had no desire to wait for gentlemen to decide if she was worthy of their attention and approach her to ask for a dance.
“We cannot leave until your father arrives,” her mother reminded her. “He is busy at the House of Lords but he promised that he would meet us here.”
“That could be hours.”
“Do you have some other place you wish to be?” her mother asked with a knowing look.
Anette wished that she was home, reading a book in bed, but she knew her mother would not appreciate a truthful response. Instead, she decided to appease her mother and say, “No, Mother. There is no other place I would rather be.”
“Cheer up,” her mother encouraged. “You have the whole evening ahead of you.”
Now she wanted to run from the ballroom and hide in the gardens. What if she were to climb a tree and escape just as her friend, Mrs. Moore, had attempted to do? It had worked out for her. But, alas, she knew she never could do such a thing, especially to her mother.
Her mother just wanted what was best for her, but finding a husband was not what she needed. She was sure of that.
“Would you care for a glass of lemonade?” her mother asked, drawing back her attention.
“That sounds delightful.”
“Good, because there are many gentlemen that are just loitering by the refreshment table,” her mother shared. “With any luck, one of them will ask you to dance.”
Anette should have known there was an ulterior motive to her mother’s suggestion. Marriage for her children was never far from her mind.
Knowing that she would come to regret this, Anette said, “Let’s get this over with.”
“I’m loving your enthusiasm, dear,” her mother joked. “Come, we should go before they leave.”
As she walked with her mother, Anette wished- and not for the first time- that Lord Roswell would ask her to dance. But he never did.
Why did her heart have to belong to the one man that wanted nothing to do with her?
Lord Roswell Westlake watched Miss Bolingbroke out of the corner of his eye. She looked breathtaking, and he wished that he had the courage to go ask her to dance. But he didn’t. She was better off without him. How he wished that things were different between them but he had made promises that he intended to honor.
He was an agent of the Crown. A spy. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t lead a normal life. He was a danger to everyone around him, and he needed to ensure that he kept his loved ones safe, even if it meant he had to sacrifice his own happiness.
Everything had changed the moment he had kissed Anette under the mistletoe. The kiss was unlike anything he had ever experienced before and she had claimed his heart that night. But no good would come out of acting on his feelings. He couldn’t. It was best if he let her go and hoped that she found all the happiness that she deserved.
Mr. Caleb Bolingbroke approached him with a jovial look on his face, but there was a seriousness to his eyes that was undeniable. “It is almost time for Lord and Lady Chester’s dance,” he informed Roswell.
“I am aware,” he replied, giving his friend his full attention.
