Page 14 of Betting on a Baron
Ambrose found himself grinning and trained his focus on the gorgeous woman walking beside him. Alice could no doubt handle Foxton, but he was questioning his own abilities to sort out matters with Daphne.
CHAPTEREIGHT
The ridiculous adage that Daphne had overheard the downstairs maids share and had mistakenly passed along to Alice was not intended to be repeated. Daphne wasn’t in the least bit shocked to hear Alice repeat it, but she’d never thought Alice would dare to in front of her brother, let alone Foxton.
She pressed the back of her hand to her warm cheek. “One of these days Foxton will find the courage to take on Alice and her sharp tongue.”
“I can only hope that I’ll be present for such an event,” Ambrose answered absently.
His tone piqued her interest, and she tracked Ambrose’s gaze around the overcrowded Fairmont ball room. She was surprised at the number of guests who blatantly avoided making eye contact with Ambrose and worse yet, the wave of guests who turned their backs to him. Fools. All of them, otherwise they’d not behave in such a manner. But Daphne was more interested in what or who was Ambrose searching for. Aside from the occasional smirk, Ambrose showed no sign of being affected by the poor behavior of his peers.
If she could have shielded him from the hurtful behavior she would have. She took another look around the room. “Looking for Alice?”
“Always. You know she has a propensity to make me worry.” He swayed a half inch closer to Daphne. “I’m finding it rather difficult to locate Alice with you by my side.”
Her body instinctively swayed closer to him. “How so?”
“You have the ability to capture and hold my attention whenever we are in the same room. Focusing on anything else is a challenge. Plus it was previously a safe assumption that if I found you, I’d find Alice next to you.”
She patted his arm. “Not to worry. We can search for her together—two pairs of eyes are better than one.” Daphne smiled and turned around to look behind them. As she’d suspected, she caught Alice slipping out the terrace doors.
What Ambrose didn’t know was that for years Alice had the habit of disappearing for spells at a time during balls. Daphne normally happily retreated to the ladies retiring room to read until Alice found her and they both would return to the ball. At the sight of Foxton trailing Alice, she expelled a sigh of relief. The brief moment of ease was replaced with panic. Should she divert Ambrose’s attention and grant Alice her reprieve, trusting that Foxton would protect Alice from harm? Or should she venture out to the gardens after Alice, knowing Ambrose would follow, and placing them both at risk of being caught again? Daphne’s gaze fell upon the dance floor where couples were already positioned to begin waltzing.
Alice would owe her, owe her big. “I’m sure Foxton will escort Alice to the floor. Shall we?”
He dropped his gaze down to her and then to the lines forming on the dance floor. “It would be my honor.”
She stepped up into position, ready to waltz with the man who made everyone else around her disappear. ’Tis for Alice, she repeated, ignoring the fluttering in her chest.
* * *
One,two, three…one, two, three… counting normally helped ensure he didn’t tread upon his partner’s toes, but tonight Ambrose was far too distracted by Daphne. Entering a slow turn, he caught her scanning the room. She was probably worried about Alice. “I’m sure you were correct and we shall see Foxton and Alice shortly.”
Daphne blinked up at him. “Alice?”
“Who were you searching for, if not for my sister?” For the first time all evening he took to heart the suspicious glares that were sent his way. Suddenly the veil of protection provided by the fact that the rumors were initiated and falsified by his own doing disappeared and he felt exposed and vulnerable.
Candlelight from the chandelier above the dance floor flickered in her eyes as she stared up at him. “Foxton. He’s taller than most, thus easier to spot in a crowd.”
He smiled. Her logical approach to life was heartwarming and a trait he hoped would pass on to his children. He led her about the floor, with each step reaffirming his interest as he mentally recited all the reasons he loved her: her forthrightness; sensible fashion; ability to converse on a number of topics, not just the weather; and lips that curved into the sweetest smiles and were soft and delectable. His hand grazed her arm and then settled at the small of her back. She glanced up at him. Her gaze held a glimmer of hope searching for something…mayhap something that would indicate he was as nervous as she or that their feigned courtship had demolished his veil of indifference.
Her back stiffened against his hand.
Ambrose drew her closer. “Is something the matter?”
“Were you…were you describing the woman you wish to marry?” She searched his eyes and hers immediately misted as she asked, “How are you going to find a wife if you are pretending to court me?”
Damn. Had he really muttered his thoughts aloud? Even so, how could she not realize he had been thinking of her? “I was describing you.”
She inhaled sharply. “Me?”
He lightly stroked his thumb up and down at the small of her back, and she shivered in his arms. Ambrose took a half step closer as the last notes of song were played. “Yes. You. I want more than the promise of a fake courtship.”
Eyes wide, it was Daphne’s turn to mumble, “Tell me this is not a dream.”
He brought them to a complete stop and whispered as he bowed. “Tis not a dream. I want you, Lady Daphne Wilcock, for my wife—and I’m going to prove it.”
CHAPTERNINE
