Page 26 of The Gift of a Christmas Scandal

He had to believe that she wanted him, as much as he wanted her, that he had not dreamed the previous night, that her offer of subjecting herself to scandal for him was real.

Lady Phyllida was chattering away – he had no idea what about – and he suddenly realised that she was expecting a response from him.

“…don’t you agree, Your Grace?”

Alex blinked at her, nonplussed. What could he say?

“Ah… I am sorry, my Lady, but for a moment, I was distracted – what are you asking me to agree to, again?”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed, then produced a pained sigh before speaking.

“I said, Your Grace, that I find Lady Selina’s gown quite scandalous – that a young woman of her age should wear such a colour! Why that gown is better suited to a demi-mondaine than to a respectable woman! Do you not agree?”

Alex stifled the urge to laugh – by evening’s end, more than Lady Selina’s gown would be scandalous!

“I find that I do not agree, Lady Phyllida. Yes, it is a little daring for a young woman, but you cannot deny that she carries it off well. I have great respect for the confidence that it must take, to wear such a gown.”

Lady Phyllida’s breath hissed between her teeth, and she looked away from him, disconcerted, and unsure how to respond. At that moment, the orchestra struck up for the first set – a country dance, and Alex decided to get the inevitable over with, and dance it with Lady Phyllida.

His request for the dance seemed to mollify her, and he led her into the line forming up, secretly hoping that the energetic dance might tire her enough for him to be able to escape her once it was done. He refused to try to speak to her as they moved through the figures of the dance, and by its end she was glaring at him. He escorted her off the floor, and delivered her to her mother, bowing and removing himself, claiming that he should circulate amongst his guests.

He did so, at all times keeping an eye on where Selina was, waiting his chance. She had danced the country dance with Lord Hockingmoor, and now was speaking with Lady Mariel. He moved, one conversation at a time, in her direction. By the time the current dance – a quadrille – finished, he was close. The next was to be a waltz, and he stepped up beside her, just as the orchestra began the waltz music.

“Lady Selina, might I have the honour of this dance?”

Her bright green eyes met his, full of delight, and a mischievous spark. That look made him want to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. Instead, he waited, offering his arm.

She curtsied, elegant and poised.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

She placed her hand on his arm, and he swept her to the floor, turning her into his arms as the music truly began. As he did, she gave a little cough, raising her hand to her breast for a moment as she did. Then it settled, and she placed that hand in his, as her other hand came to rest on his shoulder. At the touch of her hand, he was hard pressed not to stumble, for there, between their palms, was a small hard shape.

It had to be a note, folded small. He tightened his fingers on hers, crushing the note tightly between them, and settled his other hand onto her back. He was tempted, oh so tempted, to allow that hand to move, to slip lower, to brush against the shape of her buttock, to caress… but he did not – there was time for that later.

He spoke softly, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Thank you. I will be instructed by the wisdom contained in our hands, as soon as I am forced to abandon you at the end of this dance. To do so will only be bearable because of the thought of what is to come…”

She licked her lips, and his eyes followed the movement. Just watching that was enough to arouse him, so profound was her effect on him.

“I have thought of little else since last night… and I confess to a degree of impatience. Never has a day passed more slowly!”

He laughed at her words, even as the desire evident in the tone of her beautiful voice drove him near to the edge of madness. How soon might their plan be put into action? How long, before he could taste the delights of her body again?

“Never? I am honoured by your… need…”

His fingers moved, subtly, gently stroking her back, and a tiny gasp escaped her, even as they rotated on the floor, flowing smoothly through the steps of the dance, perfectly fitted together, with no thought for anything but restraining the desire that burned between them.

When the music slowed to a stop, he escorted Selina to where her mother stood with Lady Mariel and her mother.

“My thanks, Lady Selina, for a delightful dance. I believe that I will step out onto the terrace for a moment, for some fresh air. Dancing does leave one rather… warm…”

Her smile was conspiratorial, and her eyes bright as she nodded.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Her curtsey was perfect, calm, and restrained, but her eyes burned into his. He bowed, and stepped away, slipping out onto the terrace, the folded note still held tight in his curled fist. At the very end of the terrace, where he would not be easily observed, but where light from the ballroom still reached, he unfolded it.

The Library, at the start of the last dance set before supper.

There was no signature, no other words, but it was enough – enough to make the blood sing in his veins with excitement, desire, and a small frisson of fear. To step intentionally into scandal was not something that he had ever imagined doing – yet now, he found himself impatient for the moment. He tore the note into tiny pieces, and cast them down into the rose bed, where they mingled with the small drift of snow. By morning, they would be sodden, invisible.

Not long to wait now, not long until he could disgrace himself, and finally defeat his father’s wishes, and begin a new life, with a woman of his own choosing. He slipped back into the ballroom, smiling.

~~~~~

Selina watched him go, her heart beating fast. It was all going to plan, and he seemed to still be as desirous of ruining her, as she was to be ruined. Her mother watched her a moment, then spoke, very quietly.

“A pity that he is promised elsewhere… a Duke… but, wishes cannot change contracts, I am sad to say.”

Selina took a deep breath – little did her mother know! The time passed slowly, inexorably, and she barely heard the conversation around her. As the orchestra concluded the last but one set before supper, she declared herself in need of the necessary, and slipped from the ballroom, clasping Mariel’s hand in passing as she went. Mariel nodded, and raised her hand to her head – the act of a headache beginning.