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Without conscious thought, he leaned closer still, so their breaths were mingling with a bare inch or so between them as she tipped her head in silent invitation.
The urge to lean into that last little distance and capture her mouth with his own, to tease the crease of her lips with his tongue and savor the taste and scent of her was almost overpowering.
The edge of her traveling cloak brushed his arm, calling him suddenly to his senses and his vow not to take advantage of her, no matter how welcoming she seemed. He exhaled, and tilted his head a little further, so that he was speaking into the dainty shell of her ear. “I will be counting the hours until I see you the day after tomorrow.” Then he stepped back, disengaged her hand from his arm, and raised it to his lips to press a chaste kiss against her slender, graceful-looking fingers. “I bid you a good evening and safe travels, my dear.” With that, he released her hand entirely. “I shall not keep you.”
“I…” She looked somewhat shocked, then visibly collected herself. “A good evening to you as well, and I wish you safe travels and good health, until we meet again.” With a final curtsy, she turned and strode off into the slowly darkening evening. He watched until she was helped into the carriage by the driver. It was only when the horses were urged into motion and the carriage clattered away, round the bend and out of sight, that he moved to return to his own home.
A day and a half, or perhaps two full days before he would see her again.
They could not pass swiftly enough.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Henrietta stepped out of the carriage with Andrew’s aid and adjusted the dainty mask so it set more securely over her features. The mask was stiffened satin heavily decorated with neatly stitched flowers in silver, gold, and blue thread—a match to the high-waisted and full-skirted evening gown she wore. It was made from pale blue silk to match her eyes, and it was similarly patterned. Her white-gloved hands toyed with the shawl draped around her shoulders as she took in the expanse of the Merriweather estate.
It was a large home, as befitted a Duke and Duchess, with manicured gardens and a wide front porch of gleaming stone. Two servants stood at the door, one collecting coats and hats, while the other directed the guests to the ballroom. Behind her, coaches and carriages of every description waited to deliver their passengers before the drivers could avail themselves of the arrangements made for their stay while their lords and ladies mingled in the ballroom and adjoining parlors.
She had not seen any carriage she thought might be Daniel’s. Nor had she seen the Darnell coach among those that waited in the drive.
Andrew took her arm and escorted her forward, behind the Earl and Countess of Crawford. They passed through the heavy oak doors, ornamented with polished knockers and handsome scroll-work carvings. Father presented their invitations, and they were waved inside.
She had never been to the Merriweather estate, as the previous Duke of Merriweather had been more or less withdrawn from society after the loss of his wife and his son’s decision to travel abroad.
At the door to the ballroom, the Duke and Duchess were greeting their guests. Henrietta swept a curtsy and a dip of her head to both and exchanged greetings, before moving into the main ballroom.
Inside, elegant ladies in evening gowns of every hue and style of decoration danced with men equally well turned out. They stood proudly in their fine black evening jackets, under which richly embroidered waistcoats with gleaming buttons formed colorful panels over the white muslin and silk shirts, beneath the knots of perfectly tied cravats in a variety of styles. Form-fitting breeches of similar material and silk stockings leading to fashionable, immaculate shoes completed the men’s clothing, while here and there, the toe of a ladies’ satin slipper peeped from under the floor-length skirts.
In the far right corner, musicians played, the melodious notes resonating clearly through the crowded room.
They had arrived in the middle of a dance, which made it a simple matter for Henrietta to slip away to one side, near the chairs that had been arranged for those who might wish to sit.
Her dance card was far from full, but she had little interest in rectifying the matter tonight, for all that she generally loved to dance. Her thoughts were on only one man.
Daniel Thynne. The only thing she had thought of since leaving the Salisbury country seat the night before.
She had been positive that he was preparing to kiss her, there in the drive just before she had taken her leave. And for all her conflicted feelings, she had welcomed the prospect of his kiss. She had been more than willing to have his firm mouth pressed to hers, his hands drawing her closer.
But it hadn’t happened, and she had spent a most restless night at home dreaming of his strong, capable hands on her waist, his mouth claiming hers. She had woken from dreams of slipping her tongue delicately across his lips, then devouring the warmth of his breath, as she nipped his lip and let his tongue duel with her own until they separated breathlessly.
She had spent more time than she cared to admit, entertaining fancies of what it would be like to be pressed against that firm, strong frame, to feel his heart pounding against her own chest, or under her fingertips. To be wrapped entirely in his warmth and the scent of stone and subtle scents, with his hair brushing across her cheeks and mingling with her own.
Never mind the entirely inappropriate thoughts she had entertained of running her hands over bared skin, feeling the play of those well-shaped muscles under her touch, tracing the lines of his abdomen, and seeing how he responded.
“Lady Henrietta?” She started from her thoughts to see a young man—if the shock of dark blond hair was any indication—in a brightly colored mask standing before her.
“I...however did you guess?”
He chuckled lightly. “There is only one lady of the ton with such a willowy figure and such enchanting features, even behind a mask.”
She looked out over the assembled nobles again, noting with resignation that she was by far the tallest woman present, as was the norm for such things. Such was the inconvenience of having attained her father’s height to go with her mother’s fine-boned delicacy.
“Oh, bother. I had hoped to last a little longer incognito.” She allowed a smile to accompany the words, for she’d long since become accustomed to similar scenes when attending a masquerade.
“May I interest you in a dance?” He offered his hand. “They are beginning a waltz just now.”
She had no desire to dance, save with one man, and was far too preoccupied in any case. She gave him an apologetic shake of her head. “I am currently waiting for a friend. I should not want to miss meeting them with the number of guests tonight.”
“As you will. May I bring you some refreshment?”
