Page 37 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
“Do you also enjoy reading?” he asked.
Surprise flashed through her eyes, as if she’d expected him to comment on the countess’s lowborn status. He made it a rule not to remark on anything of that nature. Considering his own reputation, to do so would be rather hypocritical. If the earl and countess were pleased with the match, then it was no business of his.
The server brought over their tea and placed a delicate china teacup in front of each of them. Lady Drake took the initiative and poured.
“I prefer learning about Joceline’s exploits directly from Amelia,” Lady Katherine said, reminding him he’d asked a question. “I have patience for many things, but I’m afraid that reading long works isn’t one of them.”
“What about poetry?” he asked, warming to the subject. “Poetry is often in a shorter form.”
Her cool gray eyes warmed. “I have to admit, I’m partial to poetry, particularly the likes of William Blake, William Wordsworth, and Lord Byron.”
His heart lifted slightly. Here, they had something in common. “I used to consider myself something of an amateur poet. I haven’t written anything in years, though.”
Not since before Elizabeth passed away.
He knew that some people used art—whether written or visual—as a way of getting through dark times, but he’d always expressed himself most effectively when he was feeling inspired or joyful. His best work had come during the early days of his courtship and marriage. Once Elizabeth descended into a state of melancholy, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to continue.
“I’d like to read your poetry some time,” she replied, a soft look in her eyes that absolutely terrified him.
That look?
It said she just might marry him, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.
CHAPTER 12
Several days later,at Lady Hampstead’s ball, something like sparks skittered over Kate’s skin the instant Lord Blackwell arrived. She watched him greet Lord and Lady Hampstead, and as her gaze traveled the elegant slope of his neck and the sharp edge of his jaw, her heart skipped, and her insides fluttered.
“He cuts a striking figure,” Sophie said from where she stood beside Kate on the edge of the ballroom near a closed window covered by maroon curtains.
Kate opened her mouth to tell Sophie that she wasn’t allowed to find Lord Blackwell handsome because he was hers, but she promptly snapped it shut. Lord Blackwell wasn’t hers. She wasn’t even entirely sure whether he’d warmed to the idea of marriage between them, although something had altered during their last encounter.
“He does indeed,” she agreed instead and drew in a deep breath, ignoring the tickle in her nostrils. A fragrance she could only describe as “green” filled the room, courtesy of the many, many pieces of shrubbery and floral arrangements Lady Hampstead had used to decorate. There had already been a chorus of sneezes during the time Kate had been here, and it seemed to be getting worse.
“I expected him to be dressed more similarly to how he was at the Wembley ball,” Sophie said.
“His attire is much more subdued tonight, it’s true.” Kate had noticed that immediately too. He wore predominantly black, with a white shirt and a simple tie. There were no flourishes or bursts of color. “There was definitely something different about him at the Wembley ball.”
Perhaps it was simply that he’d overimbibed as he’d implied, but she’d spent hours with him since that evening, and he hadn’t given her the impression of being a man who drank to excess.
Her thoughts halted when he turned toward the ballroom and his eyes met hers as if he’d known exactly where to look for her.
Her breath caught. “Oh.”
Sophie giggled. “He’s remarkably intense, isn’t he?”
He was, and she liked that about him. Was that foolish of her?
Holding her gaze, Lord Blackwell cut a swath through the revelers and made his way directly to her. He took her hand, bowed, and brushed his lips over her glove.“Good evening, my lady. May I claim the next dance?”
“Indeed.” She couldn’t look away from those dark eyes of his.
“May I reserve a waltz later in the night too?”
Sophie squeaked and nudged Kate. They both knew that claiming two dances was akin to announcing a courtship.
“I’d like that.”
Her hand remained in his, and she wondered whether she ought to draw it back, but then the song ended, and dancers began to ready themselves for the next one. He drew her onto the dance floor and stood opposite her as the music began.
