Alex merely smiled. “I’m glad,” he whispered, utterly captivated by Tiffany’s artless sensuality.
They danced in silence then, moving together in perfect harmony as the fluid strains of the waltz surrounded them. To Tiffany it seemed as if they were the only two people in the room. Unlike many of her previous partners, Alex didn’t pursue idle conversation as they danced and she was grateful, for she wanted nothing to distract her from each and every delicious sensation that was coursing throughout her body. Uncaring if her cheeks were still pink, she lifted her gaze once again to Alex’s face, relishing in his nearness. Oh how she wished she could run her fingers along the chiseled line of his jaw, to feel the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips. Slowly, her gaze moved higher, pausing for a moment upon his lips, before continuing upward to his eyes. His lashes were so long and dark, perfectly accenting the incredible beauty of his unique eye color.
As their eyes met and held, Alex could literally see the budding desire reflected in Tiffany’s gaze. She looked like a woman who wanted to be bedded. Christ! Was she such an innocent that she didn’t realize what a look like that could do to a man? He tried to look away, to focus upon the movement of his feet, to the sights and sounds around him, anything but the undeniable longing he saw in her eyes, most certainly a mirror image of his own damnable desire, but it was impossible. It was as if an invisible tether held his gaze fastened to hers. In that moment, the only thing that saved him from giving in to the sudden, irrational impulse to drag Tiffany from the dance floor in search of a secluded location to pursue what they clearly both wanted, was the realization that the music had just come to an end. Regaining his senses, he silently cursed himself for allowing Tiffany Marlowe to once again affect him to such a shocking degree.
When the music ended, Tiffany could scarcely hide her disappointment as the couples surrounding them began to leave the floor and she was brought slowly back to reality. Smiling shyly at Alex, she couldn’t help wondering if she had mistaken the look on his face just seconds earlier, for his features were now perfectly composed. As he led her from the dance floor, she struggled for something to say, but then she saw her father waiting for them on the sideline, wearing an expression that could only be described as oddly calculating. She had only a moment to ponder the peculiarity of it however, before it was swiftly replaced by the artificial smile she was all too familiar with.
“Chesterfield, I wonder if we might speak privately for a moment,” the marquess requested as Alex and Tiffany approached.
“Certainly,” Alex responded, his tone accommodating. Perhaps Melbourne was finally ready to discuss the reason for his recent stall tactics regarding the land deal. He certainly hoped so, for he was about to the end of his rope with the whole thing.
Turning to his daughter, the marquess regarded Tiffany with a critical expression as his gaze swept her from head to toe. “Tiffany, perhaps you should take a moment to freshen up before rejoining the party.”
Tiffany stiffened under her father’s censorious regard, his comment effectively serving to dampen the joy of the past minutes with Alex. “Of course, father.” With her tranquil tone belying her inner ire, she politely thanked Alex for partnering her, and then with a forced smile she excused herself from the pair.
Watching as she walked away, Alex could have kicked Melbourne for treating his daughter so cavalierly, for he hadn’t missed the momentary flash of pain reflected in her eyes. What a bastard, he thought once again.
As she made her way to one of the women’s retiring rooms, Tiffany silently lamented her misfortune. Only her father could drag her from the cloud she’d been floating upon and back to earth so quickly and with such a resounding thud. His disparaging expression and callous tone had made her feel as if she were a child who’d just soiled her dress in a mud puddle. Oh why was he never satisfied with her, she wondered for perhaps the one-thousandth time?
Entering the nearly empty room a few minutes later, she struggled to compose herself. She hated it when she allowed her father’s insensitivity to upset her. Considering the past eighteen years, she supposed she should have grown immune to it by now, but unfortunately she hadn’t completely mastered the ability to disregard his callous barbs.
Declining the refreshment offered to her by one of the two female servants in attendance, Tiffany moved to stand before the large bank of mirrors leaning against the opposite wall. With a touch of resentment stiffening her spine, she noted that her hair was still perfectly coifed and that her gown was virtually wrinkle-free. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her appearance that she could see. Had her father really noted some minuscule fault she wondered, or had he simply used that as an excuse to send her on her way so that he could speak with Alex privately? It was most likely the latter, she acknowledged; though why he couldn’t have simply asked her to excuse the two of them without making her feel as though her appearance was somehow lacking, she would never understand. It was beyond frustrating.
Returning to the ballroom a short time later, Tiffany glanced about, but searching the crowd, she failed to spot her father or Alex. Wondering what it was that her father had wished to speak to him about, she lingered for a moment at the edge of the room, her thoughts churning in speculation. She didn’t have long to ponder the matter however, for she was soon approached by the gentleman whom she’d agreed to partner in the upcoming country reel, one of the few remaining dances of the evening.
Chapter 4
After participating in the fast-paced reel, and then a lively quadrille shortly thereafter, Tiffany longed for a quiet moment to catch her breath. Hoping to catch site of Ashleigh, she thought they might take a quick stroll through the rear gardens before the final two dances of the evening commenced. But after glancing about the room, she realized that her friend was nowhere to be found. Noting that Nicholas appeared to be absent as well, she had a sneaking suspicion that the pair might have escaped to the gardens for a private moment themselves.
Although she couldn’t be happier for Ashleigh, she couldn’t help feeling a bit envious as well. Would anyone ever love her as much as the duke obviously loved Ashleigh, she wondered? Almost as soon as the question crossed her mind, her thoughts turned to Alex. Would her dreams regarding the handsome and devilishly charming earl ever become reality? Would Alexander Warrene ever be hers? It seemed a fanciful notion, but even so, she couldn’t help thinking back to their waltz. Was it only wishful thinking or was it possible that Alex was attracted to her, just as she was to him. Recalling the way he’d looked at her as they’d danced, she couldn’t repress a tiny flicker of hope.
Lost in her thoughts, Tiffany nearly failed to note the approach of a young lord in a shocking lime-green waistcoat adorned with an overabundance of gold embroidery, one of her more ardent admirers of the evening. With a squeak of dismay she pretended not to see him and quickly fled in the opposite direction. Feeling a bit like a naughty child, her eyes darted to the right and then to the left, seeking any possible means of escape as she weaved through the crowd. She spotted her salvation a moment later, a tiny alcove tucked into the wall not far from where she stood.
After casting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure that he didn’t see her, Tiffany darted into the small space. Her heart soared when she saw that a small bench had been placed within, cleverly hidden behind a large potted plant. Feeling only the tinniest bit guilty, she quickly dropped onto the seat. Once she was assured that no one had followed her, she promptly kicked off her satin dancing slippers, revealing her cream-colored silk stockings. Wiggling her toes, she leaned her head back against the wall and breathed a long, contented sigh. It felt marvelous to be off of her feet for a moment.
As she sat within her solitary safe haven, her thoughts once again turned to the Earl of Chesterfield, and it was then that she replayed every moment of their waltz within her head. She went over and over it, committing every last glorious detail to memory, knowing that it would likely play itself out time and again in
her dreams.
Only a few minutes had passed however, when Tiffany’s pleasant musings were interrupted by the low murmur of feminine voices drawing ever closer to where she sat. She might have been able to ignore them if the subject of their conversation had been anyone but Alexander Warrene. Upon hearing his name, she immediately lifted her head and glanced toward the archway. She could just make out the Addler sisters through the plant’s concealing foliage, two of the women whose acquaintance she had made earlier in the evening.
“Scandalous, simply scandalous,” the elder sister remarked, her tone laden with self-righteous condemnation.
“Yes, quite shocking,” her younger sister readily agreed.
“One can expect no less from Chesterfield mind you,” stated the elder, her tone of voice suggesting that Alex was not the primary recipient of her censure. “He is a man after all, and simply too handsome for his own good.”
“So true.”
Tiffany heard the wistful sigh that followed and grinned. Despite the fact that the women were clearly spinsters and each one nearly old enough to be his mother, they were obviously not immune to Alex’s charm. Unaware that they had gained an audience, their conversation continued as she sat quietly upon her seat.
“Lucinda Langdon on the other hand, now she should be ashamed of herself. To flaunt herself as Chesterfield’s current paramour is bad enough, but to do so here and in the presence of her husband no less is quite beyond the pale, even for her.”
Chesterfield’s paramour! The words nearly sent Tiffany tumbling from her precarious position on the narrow bench as she twisted her entire body toward the archway.
“Do you see the way she’s looking at him?” the younger sister queried spitefully.
“Humph,” the elder snorted. “Disgraceful.”
With little thought of maintaining her hiding place, Tiffany shoved apart two of the plant’s large leaves and scanned the surrounding area. She spotted Alex at once. He was leading Lucinda Langdon onto the dance floor. Fastening her eyes upon the baroness, she saw that the lady was indeed looking at Alex in a manner that could only be described as intimate. However, with his head turned, she couldn’t see Alex’s face. Was it true? Was Alex having an affair with Baroness Langdon?
“You’ll recall however, that the earl partnered Tiffany Marlowe in a waltz earlier in the evening,” the younger Addler sister commented, once again breaking into Tiffany’s thoughts. “Perhaps the baroness is about to be jilted.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Adelaide. Chesterfield never trifles with innocents or women of virtue,” her sister replied with a haughty sniff. “Surely you must realize that he only partnered the girl as a favor to the duchess.”
“Yes, of course. You’re surely correct. After all, he has made it quite clear that he is in no hurry to wed, despite his poor mother’s urging.”
“Quite right. Which is of course the reason he is content to amuse himself with the likes of Lucinda Langdon,” she said with a disdainful sniff.
A sudden lump rose in Tiffany’s throat as she felt the unmistakable sting of tears at the backs of her eyes. She was such a besotted fool. How could she have possibly imagined that a man like Alexander Warrene would be interested in someone like her? He was exactly what everyone said he was, an unfettered rake who preferred the company of mature, experienced women, married women even. Women like Lucinda Langdon, not innocent young debutantes like her. Even though she’d known of his reputation, it was extremely vexing to be confronted with the disillusioning reality of it firsthand.
Much to her relief, the Addler sister’s voices began to fade then as they moved away from the alcove. With one last morose glance toward the earl and the baroness, Tiffany settled back upon the bench and tried to compose herself. She wished she could simply remain there, for her evening was effectively ruined, but she knew she couldn’t hide forever. Thankfully the night was drawing to a close, but even so, knowing what she did now, the remainder of the ball was going to be dreadfully unpleasant. Fortunately, the years spent living with her father had made it easier to keep her true feelings hidden behind a mask of outward composure. She was going to need it, especially if she happened to encounter either Alex or the baroness before she was able to retire for the night.
Sighing heavily, Tiffany slid her dancing slippers back onto her feet and then stepped from her small hideaway and rejoined the party. Unfortunately, she encountered her father almost immediately. He appeared annoyed as he came upon her, but of course that was nothing new.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, the tone of his voice revealing his annoyance.
“I was merely taking a moment to catch my breath, father,” Tiffany replied, her own voice tinged with irritation, as she gestured to the alcove. She regretted the lapse at once.
“Do not take that tone of voice with me, young lady,” the marquess snapped.
Tiffany could have kicked herself for allowing her frustration to show. Now she was sure to receive a severe tongue-lashing from her father.
The marquess took a step closer, anger sparking in his eyes. Fortunately however, he was halted from saying anything further as someone called to him from behind.
They both turned toward the voice and saw a heavyset, dark-haired gentleman gesturing to him from a short distance away. Tiffany recognized him at once. It was the Earl of Sedgewick, an old friend of her father’s.
William lifted his hand in acknowledgment, before turning back to Tiffany. “I shall deal with your impertinence later, Tiffany.”
Turning on his heel her father left to join his friend, who by the look of him was well into his cups. Hmm, perhaps her father would spend the rest of the evening drinking with his crony and forget about her latest transgression, she mused. Oh well, even if he didn’t, what was one more lecture to add to the ever-growing list?
Struggling to keep her present state of discontent from showing, she pasted a smile upon her face as she moved along the edge of the crowd. She hadn’t gone far when she heard the music begin to fade. Seemingly against her will, her eyes were once again drawn to Alex as he led the baroness from the floor. As she watched, the woman leaned close to whisper something in his ear as they neared the edge of the floor, a seductive smile upon her lips. Tiffany felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach.
Leading Lucinda from the dance floor, Alex tried to keep his growing exasperation from showing as she leaned into him yet again. Damnation, did the woman not understand the meaning of discretion? Honestly, he wouldn’t even have asked her to dance if she hadn’t all but insisted upon it. And now, here she was suggesting they escape to the rear gardens for a tryst, where anyone could inadvertently stumble upon them. What the devil was she thinking? He was about to say as much when his gaze suddenly encountered the focused stare of Tiffany Marlowe. She was looking directly at the two of them, wearing an expression he could only think to describe as… disheartened. Oh hell! Oblivious to Lucinda’s gentle tugging upon his sleeve, his eyes momentarily locked with hers.
Mortified at having been caught staring, Tiffany abruptly tore her gaze from Alex and the baroness. Drat, the last thing she needed was for the earl to think that she was mooning over him like some silly, heartsick schoolgirl. Despite her romantic disillusionment, she still had her pride. Glancing about, she noticed that the foppish gentleman whom she’d sought to avoid only a short while ago, was once again heading her way. Looking down at her dance card, she recalled that she had promised him the final dance of the evening. She was about to resign herself to the impending occasion when she suddenly came up with a different idea.
The young lord was almost upon her when Tiffany gifted him with her most dazzling smile. To his credit he only faltered once, nearly tripping over his own feet as he walked the last few steps toward her. Recovering himself, he held his arm out to her.
“Lady Marlowe, I believe the final dance of the evening is mine.”
Tiffany immediately reached out and placed her hand upon his sleeve. �
�It is indeed, Lord Dunning,” she said in a sugary tone. “However, I’m afraid that I am feeling a bit fatigued at the moment. Would you mind very much if we took a stroll along the terrace instead?” she asked, batting her lashes flirtatiously. She desperately needed a distraction.
“Uh no, not at all,” he uttered, clearly pleased by the suggestion. “It would be my pleasure to escort you.” Crooking his elbow, he smiled widely as Tiffany wound her fingers around his arm.
From the edge of the dance floor, Alex looked on in silent wonder as George Fitzpatrick suddenly led Tiffany in the direction of the terrace. What the hell? Her expression had gone from pained to radiant in a flash, the blinding smile she’d given Fitzpatrick nearly causing the young fool to pitch head over heels at her feet. With only a few short words to Lucinda he left her side, unconcerned with the discernible look of irritation upon her face as he made his way to the nearest set of French doors leading out to the terrace.
Once outside, her arm still linked through his, Tiffany scanned the surrounding area. Looking from one end of the terrace to the other, she was surprised to see that aside from the two of them, the outdoor space appeared to be deserted. Feeling a moment’s reservation, she quickly pushed the uncomfortable feeling aside. There was no reason for concern. They were only a short distance from the open doors of the ballroom, after all.
“Shall we walk?” he asked.
Nodding, Tiffany allowed him to lead her along the edge of the terrace. Glancing at his profile, she couldn’t help comparing the young lord to Alexander Warrene. He was handsome enough, she supposed, though his youthful face lacked the confident maturity of the earl’s. He was also several inches shorter than Alex, she noted, standing just a few inches taller than her, and rather thin it seemed in comparison to the earl’s solid, muscular frame. Oh stop it, she silently commanded. She was supposed to be distracting herself from the earl, not trying to measure Lord Dunning up to him. Besides, she felt a bit guilty for avoiding him earlier, for he had been nothing but complimentary to her earlier in the evening, all be it a bit effusively.
You, and Only You Page 4
