Page 5 of The Pureblood Daughter
The viscount tips his head to her and steps aside, gesturing to the bistro table. “I’d hoped to become acquainted over a cup of tea.” When Adelina doesn’t move, he smiles. “If you’ll have me.”
“Of course she will, Lord Rosetti,” says Lady Gray, who promptly hurried over from her seat under the canopy and is now at Adelina’s back. She guides Adelina forward with a gentle touch. “You do like cucumber sandwiches, my lord?”
“I do, Lady Gray. Thank you.”
“They’ll be out in just a moment.” Lady Gray leans in so her breath is soft on Adelina’s ear. “Smile, dearest. He’s aviscount.” Lady Gray retreats to her shaded chair on the veranda, ever the dutiful chaperone.
Adelina blinks as if awakening from a dream, and she gives Lord Rosetti what she hopes is a charming smile. She slips into a curtsy, and her skirt swishes around her ankles. Lord Rosetti gestures to the chair at the table and waits until she is seated before he sits across from her.
His eyes are so verdant as to be almost unsettling, and his olive complexion is lustrous in the summer sun. The crisp white cravat about his neck further accentuates the cut of his firm jaw, which alone is something to write home about. This man—this wealthy, gorgeous viscount—is unlike anyone she’s ever crossed paths with. He’s so stunning, it’s as if he’s not even real.
Catching herself staring, Adelina tears her gaze away. Silence stretches between them. Only the breeze through the elm tree and the birds singing in the branches overhead punctuate the quiet.
Though she doesn’t turn to look, Adelina is sure her mother is staring daggers at her. This isnothow she was raised to behave. But she never expected a man as beautiful and intimidating as Lord Rosetti to take tea with her in the garden. She’s wholly unprepared for this.
“Miss Gray,” the viscount says at long last. It sounds just as beautiful as the first time he said it, but this time he offers her a hint of a smile.
“Lord Rosetti.” Adelina sits a bit taller, her hands tucked politely into her lap. She takes a subtle breath, trying to focus without allowing herself to become lost in his gaze. “We’ve not had the pleasure of meeting.”
“No, we certainly have not.” His green eyes narrow slightly, the whisper of a smile slipping from his lips. Now he more closely resembles the man she saw on the dance floor, whose gaze was hard, focused,searching. He lowers his voice. “I’d have remembered you.”
Adelina’s heart gallops faster than before. “I’m not so very sure I believe you,” she says lightly, hoping he can’t see how flustered she is.
Lord Rosetti leans forward, one elbow braced against the table. His proximity makes her bite her lip. What will her mother think?
“I’d not lie to you, Miss Gray.”
Her gaze flicks to his, and she finds his stare unwavering. It makes her sit up straighter. His solemnity is jarring; most young men don’t become quite so serious so quickly.
“Well, after last night, it would indeed be difficult to forget me.” She averts her eyes. “I was sprawled on the ballroom floor in most indelible fashion.”
Rose arrives a moment later with a tray of cucumber sandwiches, and as she slips it onto the bistro table, Adelina notes her narrow-eyed expression. She thought Rose would be happy for her, but instead, the air around her feels tense. Then Rose is gone, hastening away as quickly as she arrived.
Adelina thinks to reach for a sandwich, but her hands are still trembling, so she leaves them clasped in her lap.
Lord Rosetti’s eyes don’t leave Adelina’s face, and she struggles to keep heat from rising to her cheeks.
Why must he stare?
“I saw you fall.” His tone is concerned. “Are you quite all right?”
“Oh, of course.” Adelina offers him a smile. “It wasn’t the first time, though I prefer to take my tumbles in private.”
She expects him to laugh politely, but he narrows his eyes further, and his long lashes tangle in the corners. Adelina imagines the brushstrokes she would use to paint such expressive eyes. But getting the color of his irises just right—now, that would be tricky. They’re a mixture of greens, like a forest at the height of spring, darks and lights stippled by the leaves on the sprawling elm overhead.
“Do you do that often?”
Adelina blinks, and this time she can’t prevent the warmth that rises to her face at having been caught staring. “Do what, my lord?”
Stare? Most certainly no—
“Collapse.”
“Oh!” She touches the silver vial at her throat, and Lord Rosetti’s gaze flicks toward her fingers briefly. “I do, unfortunately. Weak constitution. I’ve a limited capacity for gaiety, it would seem.”
“Is that why we’ve never met?” He tips his head to one side, and a dark curl tumbles across his forehead. He has a luscious head of them, the rich color gleaming in the sunlight.
Each of his questions feels more inquisitive than the last, and he leans almost imperceptibly closer. His fingers shift across the bistro table as though they’re reaching for her, and Adelina’s stomach flutters at the idea of letting her fingertips touch his. It would be scandalous to touch him so frivolously, but even so, she desires to know what it would feel like.
