Page 9 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

Lord Walter guided her into the line where the dancers were forming up, and she turned her thoughts to him, to his charming, if rather dull conversation, and locked the ache in her heart away.

“Will you be in town for much longer, Miss Wormsley? Summer seems to be truly upon us now, and many are talking of retreating to their country estates, away from the city heat.”

The dance turned them, and Bea resisted the urge to sigh. So it was to be the weather…

“A few more weeks, I believe, my Lord, and then I will, most likely, spend some time with my sister and her husband, at Blackwood Chase, before I return to Wormsley Manor. It is not so much that I seek to avoid the heat, as that I find myself preferring the countryside in general, to the crowded nature of the city.”

Lord Walter looked at her as if she was somewhat odd. She had, it seemed, surprised him. Most likely, he thought that all young women cared only for fashion and events like this one.

“That is an… unusual… preference, Miss Wormsley.”

Bea smiled as sweetly as she could. It was, after all, not really his fault that he expected her to be like most young women.

“I have always found unusual things to be interesting, my Lord.”

He was silent a moment, as the dance spun them apart, then nodded as they came back together.

“Perhaps you are right, Miss Wormsley.”

Not long after that, the dance finished, and he escorted her back to her sister. The conversation had left her feeling a little out of sorts. She was beginning to wonder what most men and their wives spoke of, if anything, if the conversational standards applied by men attempting to court young ladies was any guide. After another two dances with men of even less interest to her, she was almost convinced that conversation between men and women rarely went beyond the weather. It was a most lowering conclusion.

After the second dance, when she stood by Honour’s side, her faith was a little restored by the fact that Honour and James were discussing their plans for the summer – so they, at least, spoke of something more! She allowed her mind to drift – could she remember any of her mother and father’s conversations? Very few, and mostly, sadly, about the fact that Bea was always running about in the stables, rather than behaving as a young lady should.

Her ruminations were interrupted when a voice came from close behind her.

“Miss Wormsley, will you grant me the honour of this dance?”

The voice resonated deep within her, and heat blossomed through her body. It was him – she had no need to turn to know that, for she could feel him, as if every part of her was attuned to him. Slowly, she moved, until her eyes met his. She had promised herself that she would not allow him to affect her.

But despite her best intentions, he did, just by existing. And… he wanted to dance with her? After last night? Her traitorous heart sang, even whilst her mind urged her to flee from the room.

“I will.”

The words were out before she had a chance to consider them. She placed her hand on his offered arm, even whilst she castigated herself internally for foolishness. Dancing with the man was no way to ensure the safety of her heart, to ensure that he went and found a woman worthy of him, a woman more suited to his expectations of behaviour, as he should.

It was only when he turned her into his arms as they took their places, that she realised that it was, again, a waltz. Her heart pounded, and her mouth was suddenly dry. She licked her lips, and looked up to find his eyes upon that movement. Heat flared even more within her, as she remembered the feel of his lips upon hers.

Lips she wanted upon hers again. No matter how foolish that desire was.

The music began, and they danced, as if in a dream, their eyes locked on each other’s, and all sense of the room around them gone. Bea knew, then, that she was lost – for no amount of determination was enough to make her give up any tiny moment she might have, in his arms.

~~~~~

Nash had watched as she danced with others, and found himself gritting his teeth at the sight.

He had tried dancing with other young women, as she danced with other men, but had found them all sadly lacking – rather insipid – not so much in appearance or manner, but most definitely in conversation. He had no idea what to speak to them of, and they offered only topics such as weather and the latest gossip – of which he was usually unaware. He was being a coward – and he knew it.

He wanted to dance with Miss Wormsley, and his fear of rejection was preventing him from asking her. In the end, disgusted with himself, he strode towards her – he would ask, for surely rejection would not be worse than the torture of watching her dance with others. When she turned, and met his eyes, his heart sped to an alarming rate, and his breath came short.

But she did not reject him, although for a moment he had thought she would – instead, she placed her hand on his arm, and allowed him to lead her away.

Perhaps he had been beyond foolish to wait for a waltz to ask her, but he could not regret it, as he turned her into his arms. She licked her lips, and his eyes followed the movement, heat flooding through him, and desire. He remembered the taste of her lips, the softness as they tentatively moved against his, and his body tightened. He was barely able to prevent himself from crushing her against him, there on the dance floor.

Passion leads to pain, he reminded himself, yet, in that instant, the fact of it seemed, somehow, less important than his desire for her. They danced, and he remembered nothing of it, except her eyes on his, until the moment when the music slowed to a stop. Without saying a word, he led her to the terrace doors, and out.

The terrace at Gallopton House was short, with one end, that which was distant from the steps down into the gardens, half enclosed by roses trained around pillars. He led her there, and she went without resistance. A delirious madness filled him.

Once they were shaded from view by the roses, he spun her into his arms, pulling her hard against his body, exulting in the feel of her. She looked up at him, those blue green eyes filled with an expression which seemed to contain the same desire that he felt.