Waltzing with the Wallflower(13)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

His gaze fell to her full lips, which she delicately nibbled on in thought.

“I…” He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“You…?” She prompted, squinting towards him.

“The kiss.” His voice was hoarse. “Do you think of it?”

Cordelia’s gaze darted away without answering the question. He felt like a fool until she leaned in and whispered so lightly he almost missed it, “Every day.”

The intense need to kiss her again washed over him as the dance ended, and he noticed her blushing again. Bet or no bet, it mattered not. The importance of showing her how he felt was at the forefront of his mind.

“Shall we take some fresh air?” he managed to choke out as he led her in the direction of the balcony. She flashed him a knowing smile and nodded her head.

“I believe this is my dance, Lady Cordelia.” A young man interrupted their escape plans with stars in his eyes for the lady. Ambrose knew it would cause more whispering if he didn’t allow the man to dance with her. He stepped aside and nodded, then whispered in Cordelia’s ear for her to join him on the balcony as soon as the dance was finished.

Ambrose made his way to Anthony. The last thing he desired was to watch Cordelia dance in another man’s arms. He winced from the pain of the image, then located Anthony and Wilde and joined them.

“Is it true then?” A man in the group asked.

“What am I missing?” Ambrose asked, looking at his twin brother. Something had transpired. He wasn’t sure what it was, but a sickening feeling told him it had to be something important, for the look on Wilde’s face was absolute horror.

“Are you her protector then?” the man continued.

“Who are you?” by the tone of his voice, Ambrose made it clear that he didn’t care to even know the individual.

“You didn’t answer my question. You see, I’m looking for a new mistress, and I was wondering if you planned on keeping yours.” His smug grin made Ambrose want to stab him where he stood.

“Mine? Obtuse idiot, I don’t have a mistress!”

Anthony choked. Wilde appeared ready to lose his dinner, and the rest of the men looked curious.

“Of course you do. Weren’t you just dancing with her?”

Ambrose looked to Anthony for help, but his twin brother was now staring at the ceiling as if a silly painting were on display.

“You are mistaken, sir.” Ambrose kept his voice curt, his answer polite, though he wanted nothing more than to pummel the man with his bare fists.

“I heard it from a reliable source, Hawthorne. It’s common knowledge. Lady Cordelia appears to be your mistress. It makes perfect sense. I mean no ill will towards the chit, but her reputation isn’t quite shining. I can imagine at least a hundred young women who would be a better fit for a titled lord. As an indentured servant, you can be sure she was no stranger to a man’s attention. So, I ask again. Is she under your protection, or is she in need of a protector?”

His pulse thudded against his ears as Ambrose grew dizzy with rage. He drew a slow, steady breath and blew it through pursed lips, forcing his balled fists to remain at his sides. Mustering all the self-control he possessed, he muttered, “You are mistaken. Lady Cordelia is in no need of a protector. Not now, not ever. Assume what you must, but stay away from the lady.”

Cursing, Ambrose spun on his heel and left the group of idiots in his wake, making his way to the balcony, ignoring the whispers of those around him. It seemed his good intentions turned out to be nothing more than one more thing for the ton to trod on. Well, it would end here and now. Not good enough? She was already more than all of the women in his acquaintance put together!

Irritated, he made his way to the balcony and noticed Cordelia already waiting for him. He released the breath he had been holding and reached out to touch her arm.

She whipped around so quickly he stumbled backwards.

“Is it true?” she asked, tears streaming down her soft face.

“Pardon?” It was truly a night from Hell.

She hiccupped and wiped a tear from her eye. “Is it true? Are you only paying me attention for your own personal gain?”

“Of course not!” Feeling fierce and out of control he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her body into his. “You know me better than to be that type of man. I care for you deeply. I would never harm you in that way, Cordelia,” he added. She lifted her face to his, and he forgot the eloquent speech he was about to make on her behalf.

“Cordelia, I—” He reached for her, wiping more stray tears from her cheeks, and then his lips followed. Her cheeks tasted of salt and rosewater. Losing his already unstable control, he drank her in—all of her.

She stopped the kiss, gently pushing against his chest. “So none of it is true then?”

“Cordelia, I think you would know if you were my mistress. In fact, I guarantee you would know, and you wouldn’t be as scandalized as you look right now. Though perhaps a bit more satisfied.”

She blushed and pushed at him. “I’ve been the object of many conversations tonight, but being your mistress was one piece of gossip I wasn’t made privy to. Though I am relieved to know you don’t wish to proposition me. That wasn’t what I was referring to.”

Ambrose pulled her into his arms again and kissed her, murmuring against her lips, “Then what has you so put out? For I won’t have you crying in my arms unless it’s from joy, my dear.”

She sighed, nestled against his chest. “The bet. I was told you made a bet and that if I became the toast of the ton you would win.”

He froze, unable to speak, move, or do anything except continue to hold her and try to think of a way he could either lie or distract her from the truth.

“Let’s not talk about gossip,” he finally said as he lifted her chin to kiss her again.

This time she pulled back, pain glistening in her eyes. “Tell me it’s not true, Ambrose.”

He cursed, and looked away. “Cordelia, it isn’t important anymore. I care for you—you must see that!”

“You care for me?” she echoed in a tiny voice.

“Of course I do; you know I do.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

She had him there. “I was a fool! I wanted to help you, to pull you away from the wall. Anthony and I—”

“Anthony was in on it too?”

“Don’t forget Wilde as well, brother,” Anthony said as he joined them on the terrace.