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Oh, God, of course he wanted to know if he had to marry her. “I am not with child,” Pippa whispered, hating that she blushed.
His eyes glowed with wicked tenderness and distressing intimacy. “Good.”
She truly did not know what to say to that.
“How have you been?”
Their gazes collided. “I…” Her throat closed and she did not understand why it was so difficult to attempt a conversation. “Why did you ask me to dance?”
Something indefinable flashed in his eyes before his expression became inscrutable.
“I wanted to feel you close to me. If not for the multiple eyes upon us, I would try to whisk you outside for a private moment.”
“Am I to finally meet the rogue?” she asked pertly, not liking the silly patter of her heart.
“After being so thoroughly ravished, you still doubt it?” Humor glinted in those golden eyes. “I gather you need another demonstration, hmm?”
Heat burned inside her cheeks, and she hoped her mother assumed it was from dancing. He spun her in several elegant twirls, before finally the last strains of the waltz ended. The marquess escorted her to her mother, dipped into a bow and departed the ball. Whispering crested in the wake of his departure, and she tried to not fidget under the speculative stare of her mother and several ladies.
“Well,” Minerva said brightly, speculation rife in her gaze. “This is the second time Lord Trent danced with you this season. He will most certainly create a stir with his actions tonight.”
“Who keep counts of these matters?” Pippa said with a small, unconcerned smile, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing footman and taking a sip.
“Perhaps he has intentions,” the viscountess said slyly.
Pippa choked. “The marquess? I daresay he is not that much of a rogue.”
I gather you need another demonstration, hmm?
Good heavens, did the marquess plan to try to further his conquest in regard to her? Pippa stiffened her spine and narrowed her gaze. He might make her pulse leap with unchecked want, but she was not about to indulge in an affair! Their moment in the cottage was simply…a beautiful, passionate encounter and it was over, with no regrets, but certainly no more future dalliance!
“I did not mean he had dishonorable intentions,” the viscountess said, carefully observing Pippa.
It was then Pippa recalled that Minerva had loved to gossip. She bit back a groan and laughed with airy indifference. “You mean then he hashonorableintentions? Lord Trent?”
As if realizing how absurd the idea was, Minerva laughed, shaking her head. “You are correct, my dear. That gentleman has no plans to marry anytime soon.”
They chatted for a few minutes, and Pippa tried to not feel the heavy ache of…sadness upon her chest, or that her mother watched her with a slight frown and too much conjecture in her gaze.
“Lady Phillipa, come quick,”the strident voice of a servant called. Lowering the book, she’d been attempting to read, Pippa frowned. Hurrying to her feet, she set her copy ofThe Castle of Otrantoon the table and made her way from the library. Once in the hallway she noted the drawing room door was ajar and whispers came from inside. She entered, drawing to an alarmed stop to see the most extravagant and beautiful bouquet of flowers on the walnut table. She must have made a sound, for the two servants who stood admiring it glanced around.
“These came for you, milady,” Agnes said, beaming.
“For me?” Pippa asked, shaking her head. No gentleman had ever sent her flowers. Pippa was grateful that her mother was taking breakfast in bed, for she would not be able to suffer her excitement. Four other gentlemen had asked her to dance last night after the marquess departed. They had all seemed attentive; she recalled that her last partner for the evening, Lord Clayborne had been very amiable, even going as far as to express regret that he was only just making her acquaintance.
The bouquet was certainly a statement and must have cost a pretty penny
“Well,” her mother said from behind of her. “What is this?”
Pippa silently groaned. “Mama, I thought you were taking breakfast in your bed. What brought you down?”
“Sally informed me of some spectacular bouquet, and not just any flowers, but spring flowers in June?”
Those words settled inside her, and she strolled over to the flowers, noting with shock they were her favorites—sweet-smelling narcissus and tulips. Pippa preferred spring flowers which in summer would be exorbitantly expensive as they would have to be carefully forced in glass houses. She sniffed the flowers which lifted her heart; they were so beautiful.
“Who sent them?” her mother asked behind her.
Pippa cleared her throat. “Lord Trent.”
