Page 4 of The Pureblood Daughter
She looks first at the woman, but as Lord Felton turns her ever slightly, she sees the man. And as she does, he looks up.
His eyelashes are black, his eyes green, and the sight of him sends such a startling jolt through Adelina that she stumbles. Lord Felton catches her with nary a foot out of place. She thinks to smile up at him, to be thankful for his ability to conceal her misstep, but she can do little more than stare at the man across the room.
Against all odds, and despite the beautiful woman in his arms, the man stares back.
Around and around they dance, twirling beneath the candlelight. Though dancers pass before Adelina countless times, her eyes always find the dark-haired man, and each time they do, she finds him looking back at her.
The waltz brings them closer, and when their eyes meet again, it’s as if a spell has come over Adelina, and the dancers and revelers in the room slow and dim until the man is all she sees.
His face is focused, almost cross, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think him upset with her. Why else would he regard her with such narrowed eyes?
Beneath her breast, her heart races. It pounds out of time to the music, and she becomes dizzy as the blood rushes through her veins. Her heart gallops ever quicker.
Lord Felton spins her once, twice. It feels like she’ll become lost in the sea of skirts. She sees the man again, turns to reach for her partner’s arms, but then the floor rushes up to meet her.
The last thing she sees is Lord Felton’s concerned frown as he catches her, and then everything goes dark.
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe I fainted.”Adelina frowns at her reflection as Rose runs a brush through her long chocolate hair. Her brows are drawn low over her blue eyes, and her cheeks are flushed. “It’s humiliating.”
“Not at all, miss,” Rose says. Her fingers are soft as they work through the tiny tangles in Adelina’s dark locks. “As I hear it, Lord Felton found it endearing.”
“Endearing?” Adelina tries not to scoff. “Perhaps if it had been intentional.” She glares at her fingers, which tremble in her lap. Despite the tonic Rose brought her when she awoke this morning, the shakes have not eased. Her heart beats slightly faster and harder than normal, and her breathing is shallow.
Ever since she woke upon the ballroom floor, the rhythm of her heart has been erratic, unnatural. Though she desired to look about for the man with green eyes, she could not bring herself to and instead kept her eyes on the floor as she was swept away by her concerned parents. Her mother called upon the family doctor, of course, but he found nothing amiss—no more so than usual, at least.
Now, as Adelina stares at her eyes in the mirror, shame washes over her, and she groans. Of course she made a fool of herself in front of the most attractive man she’s ever seen.
“Adelina!”
Both Rose and Adelina jump at the raised voice, and Lady Gray rushes into the room as Adelina turns at her vanity.
“Adelina,” she says again, putting a hand to her chest as she catches her breath. “You’ve a caller.”
Adelina is off her stool and across the room in a moment. “What? Who is it?” She imagines Lord Felton, with his easy smile and hazel eyes, and wonders how she’ll ever stomach the embarrassment of collapsing in his arms. Many young ladies have fainted elegantly at the feet of their suitors, but she very much doubts her slack jaw and twisted limbs were cause for adoration. The thought nearly makes her shudder.
Lady Gray’s brown eyes sparkle, and she takes Adelina’s hands with enthusiasm.
“Viscount Rosetti.”
“The viscount?” Adelina’s brow furrows. Though she tries, she cannot bring his face to mind. In fact, she can’t recall ever having been introduced to the earl’s eldest son. So why, then, would he call upon her? “It must be a mistake,” she says. “Are you sure he’s at the right house?”
Lady Gray draws herself up, her lips turning serious in a moment. “Rose, help Adelina dress right away. The pale blue gown will do wonders for her complexion.” Lady Gray turns toward the door. “And make haste! He’s waiting in the garden!”
Donned in one of her finest dresses and with the silver vial glimmering at her throat, Adelina descends the stairs to the entryway below. The double doors to the garden are standing open, and the sheer draperies billow in the early-afternoon breeze. She approaches with trepidation, her slippers moving soundlessly across the gleaming floor.
He cannot be at the right house.
There’s no logical reason for the viscount to call upon her. Indeed, it’s almost inappropriate, for they’ve yet to be formally introduced. Were he a gentleman of lower station, such behavior would be frowned upon, but when an earl’s son calls upon a lady, she answers.
The sunlight is bright as Adelina passes through the double doors. She takes the two steps down into the grass, and as her eyes adjust, the silhouette of a man rises from the bistro table to greet her.
When her vision clears, she stops in her tracks, her skirt settling delicately in the emerald grass. The man looking back at her has dark hair and impossibly green eyes. This time, his arm is unoccupied.
“Miss Gray.”
Even his voice—deep and rich—sends her heart racing. It has been unsettled since she laid eyes on him at the ball, and now it threatens to beat from her chest. She would reach for her fan, but her hands are trembling so furiously that she could not hope to open it without floundering.
