Page 16 of The Pureblood Daughter
Lord Gray draws himself up, cheeks turning red, but Adelina glides away before she can hear a word of his protests.
She moves toward the house and up the stairs to the entryway, and though she’s out of breath, she’ll not let her frail health get the best of her tonight—at least not before she’s had a dance with Viscount Rosetti.
After fanning herself and catching her breath, she steps through the double doors into the Oakley foyer. Though it’s grand and glittering, it pales in comparison to that in the Rosetti manor. The candlelight is slightly less lustrous, the decor not quite as lovely.
Adelina catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror as she passes, and her flushed cheeks and dark hair make her blue eyes that much more striking. Perhaps everything the Rosettis touch shines just a tad brighter than it did before.
While returning friendly smiles and greetings, Adelina moves toward the ballroom, where polished shoes click and long skirts swish. The orchestral music swells as she steps through the door, and it takes her eyes only a moment to find the man she’s looking for.
Her heart lifts, but then she recognizes the woman he’s dancing with. It’s the same golden-haired beauty from the Rosetti ball, and the two of them outshine every couple on the floor. They move in tandem, each hand held perfectly, each step placed with metronomic precision.
Watching the way the woman moves, equal to the viscount in both grace and beauty, makes something turn in Adelina’s stomach. She looks down at her trembling fingertips and wonders what this rich, deliciously handsome man sees in her. She has a humble dowry, an unremarkable face, and a womb that might be unable to bear children. What could she give him that any other beautiful woman in this room could not?
It’s realization at its most cruel, and Adelina fights to keep it from manifesting as tears in her eyes. She can’t let him—or anyone—see her cry, especially after what happened at the Rosetti ball.
The music decrescendos as she turns from the floor, already hoping for this night to be over and to be back in her bed. Perhaps her father was right along.
But before she’s taken three steps, a hand seizes hers and turns her gently around.
Lord Rosetti gazes down at her, his cheeks tinged with pink from the heat in the room, his green eyes sparkling with intensity. Behind him, the other dancers bow and curtsy to one another, and the woman with the golden hair gives Adelina a glare unlike anything she’s ever seen. Her glare shifts to the viscount, who’s paying her no mind, and then the woman storms from the floor, her perfect hair floating in the air behind her as she goes.
“Miss Gray,” Lord Rosetti says softly, drawing Adelina’s focus back to him, “it seemed you were about to leave.”
“N-no, of course not.”
“Good.” He straightens up and releases his hold on her hand. “In that case, would yo—”
“Adelina, there you are!” Lord Gray materializes from the crowd, another flute of champagne in his hand. “I want you to stay where I can see you, dear.” Though he speaks to Adelina, his eyes are on the viscount.
The two men exchange tense looks, and although Adelina tries, she cannot decipher the unspoken words being exchanged.
“I’m right here, Papa. There’s no need to worry.” She sets a hand upon his arm, hoping to calm him, but it does little to diffuse the tension.
“Oh, I think there’s plenty of need. We don’t want what happened last time to repeat itself.”
“It won’t be a problem, Lord Gray,” the viscount says, his smile waltzing a fine line between polite and uncivil. “I’d never let Miss Gray fall.” He holds out a hand, and Adelina takes it without a moment’s hesitation.
As he guides her onto the floor, Adelina glances over her shoulder and is taken aback by the unguarded abhorrence in her father’s eyes. He drains his champagne in a single gulp before turning and forcing his way through the gathered onlookers, who gasp and bristle at his behavior.
“I’m sorry,” Adelina whispers as Lord Rosetti takes his place across from her for the dance. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into him.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says softly. “You’ve done nothing wrong. His ill manners are his own.” His smile is easy, unburdened, and it softens Adelina’s worry.
Still, she can’t understand her father’s poor behavior. He’s never acted so impolite, especially to aviscount. Something is certainly the matter with him.
The orchestra starts to play, prompting Adelina to drop into the smoothest curtsy she can muster.
Across from her, the viscount bows, and a single dark curl slips across his forehead. She wonders what it would feel like to reach out and touch it, to run her fingers over that shiny lock of hair.
The strings sing, ushering the dancers into movement.
The viscount takes Adelina’s hand in his, the other going around her waist, and her skin tingles where it touches his. She looks at their hands clasped together, his complexion olive against her snowy white, and is dizzy at the emotions that rush over her.
“Adelina,” he says, and although the room around them is filled with sound, she hears him as clearly as though he whispered delicately into her ear.
Her gaze lifts to his, and she finds his green eyes aglow in the candlelight. Then he’s guiding her across the ballroom floor. His hand holds her confidently, and the hand on her waist guides her surely and steadily. This waltz is energetic, spinning. Adelina’s heart races in her chest, but Lord Rosetti holds her in such a way as to ensure her he’ll never let her fall.
The strings reverberate around the domed space, and Adelina glances at the audience. Her mother and father stand side by side, and their expressions couldn’t be more different. Lady Gray glows, her brown eyes wide and sparkling as Adelina and the viscount sweep past. But Lord Gray is red in the face, his eyes burning with what Adelina knows only as hate.
