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“Oh, my, he is coming this way,” someone whispered on a titter of excitement.
“Hush now, do not be so obvious, Sarah!”
This drew Minerva’s attention, and she glanced around. “It’s Lord Trent!”
Pippa’s belly dipped and her mother’s gaze sharpened. Pippa tried her best to ignore the thrill of excitement and the agony of nerves going through her veins. What was William doing? He approached with their hostess, who appeared like a cat who stole a roomful of buttered cream. They stopped before her mother, and Lady Pinault made the appropriate introductions.
The marquess bowed charmingly before turning to her mother who tried to mask her astonishment. “Lady Beauford, how charming to make your acquaintance. Lady Phillipa, may I have the honor of the next dance?”
Beating back the mess of emotions stirring in her heart and aware of the curious eyes upon them, she said, “Yes, my lord.”
Pippa dipped into a curtsy, placed her gloved hand on his arm, and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. How she hated that nerves once more quaked through her, or that she missed how he smelled. Pippa wondered if he could tell at a glance that since she had last seen him, she had dreamed nightly of their time in the cottage and even scandalously touched herself to the memory.
A flush swept over her body, and she simply wanted to vanish. The bows of the orchestra leaped to life, and the exquisite music of the waltz filled the room. He swept her into his arms with grace and elegance, and Pippa clasped his shoulder and followed seamlessly. This was the second time she had danced with the marquess, but somehow it felt different, far more perilous and intimate. She searched his expression, wondering at his thoughts and intention, but he was carefully inscrutable.
Her heart gave a painful squeeze inside her chest.Is this how it will be between us…a polite bow and curtsy, a dance perhaps, and then mild pleasantries?A part of her wanted to tell William she would marry him even if he did not love her, even if it was for something as cold as honor, but her stubborn, reckless pride that wanted a beautiful love made her remain silent. Knowing she might come to regret it, Pippa allowed him to clutch her even scandalously closer, as they swirled to the waltz, the eyes of society upon them for the Marquess of Trent had never danced with the same lady twice in one season.
Of course, she knew it was because he did not want to give anyone false expectations. “Why did you ask me to dance?” she murmured, peering up at him.
His gaze touched on her face, and she wondered if she imagined the tenderness in his golden eyes.
“Have your menses arrived, Pippa?”
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?”
