Page 16 of Reckless Desire

Chapter Five

Now Kenna understood why Lady Chastity had suggested she bring a fan. She regretted not heeding the advice. The ballroom’s stifling heat pressed in on her. She fanned her face with her hand.

“Are you warm, Miss Ramsay?” Lord Wilshire asked.

“Lady Chastity says a lady doesn’t let on that she is warm," Kenna said. “But I cannot lie, I am warm.”

“Shall we step out onto the balcony?” he asked.

Her heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t said a word about what had taken place in the alcove, but he knew, and now believed her to be fair game. “I may have been raised in the country, but I know that a lady does not go off alone with a man.” She knew that and had entered the alcove with Lord Newhall. What had she been thinking?

Lord Wilshire laughed. “Where is the fun in that?” She narrowed her eyes and he added, “The balcony is a public place, Miss Ramsay.” He steered her around a group of men and eased them through the throng until the open balcony doors came into view. He slowed. “If you look, you will see that the doors are open and others occupy the balcony.”

Half a dozen couples milled about the balcony. Even from twenty feet away, she felt a breeze. She looked up at him. “Just the balcony?”

“I never force a lady to do anything she does not want to do.”

Kenna snorted. “I imagine you are very good at making them want to do a lot of things.”

He flashed white teeth. “You are a delight, Miss Ramsay.”

She allowed him to lead her out onto the balcony. Blessed cool air washed over her. They continued to the left railing, where a stone bench sat vacant.

“Wilshire,” a man called as they settled on the bench.

Kenna looked up. Two men approached.

“The evening is about to get very dull,” the marquess said in a dry tone.

Kenna stifled a laugh. Lord Wilshire stood as the men reached them.

The taller of the two said, “When did you reach town?”

“Just today,” the marquess replied. “Graham, may I present Miss Ramsay. Miss Ramsay, my brother, Graham Masters, and his friend, Mister MacPherson.”

“Miss Ramsay.” His brother bowed stiffly, but made no attempt to take her hand.

Mister MacPherson also bowed.

“Have you been to see our mother?” Graham demanded.

“I only arrived today,” Lord Wilshire drawled.

“Yet you have time for a party.”

“Perhaps we should speak tomorrow,” the marquess said. “There is no need to involve Miss Ramsay in family squabbles.”

Graham’s mouth thinned. “You are never home.”

“That is not true,” he replied. “I simply have been busy when you called.”

“Hence the reason we will speak now,” his brother snapped.

“Really, Graham, look around. “We are not alone.”

The younger man glanced behind him. The other guests remained absorbed in private conversations. He looked back at Lord Wilshire and said, “Mother is not well.”

“What is it this time? Last I remember, she was dying of a brain tumor.”