Page 8 of When She Loved Me
Glancing around now, he recalled, with a swift rush of disagreeable recollection, that these affairs were not much more than a warehouse of inventory. Gents for sale. Brides for sale. Having grown up a firsthand witness to his mother’s difficult nature and his father’s unending melancholy because of it, Trevor had early on determined that he would never marry, his lineage and duties be damned.
He shook his head at the quirks of fate.Look at me now, he thought dispassionately, just as he finally spied the Kent sisters amidst the throng. Moving across the room to reach them, he watched—not quite amazed—as Sabrina Kent, witch that she was, having been alerted of his presence by a shining Nicole, had taken off in the opposite direction. Trevor stopped mid-stride, watching with something akin to amused horror as his fiancé ran away from him. And that was that, he thought. Damn her.
His eyes returned from the escaping form of his betrothed to settle upon her sister. Nicole had remained where first he’d seen her, her expression torn between a grimace and a pretense of oblivion. At Trevor’s lame attempt to reassure her with a smile, she brightened instantly and moved toward him.
He really did attempt to show no awareness of exactly how exquisite she was as she walked toward him. With a more criticaland attentive eye, born of his rather shameful perusal of her just the other day, he decided that she was so much more lovely than his bride-to-be, and not only because of her winning personality. She walked with a grace that belied her years, having a fluidness about her movements that bespoke of innate poise. If she weren’t so innocent, so guileless, she would perhaps learn how to affect a sultriness, and he knew it would come easy to her. It was, it seemed, part of her now, though thus far untapped.
Her hair was much as it always was, he supposed, curly and seeming of a mind to confound its pins, swaying in ringlets and waves of dark mahogany as she moved. She wore an empire gown of pure white, the bodice adorned with intricately embroidered threads of silver, being neither too revealing nor too concealing, showing only that she was a young woman of beautifully milky skin, her neck and bare arms tinted only minimally by a flush of heat. Her smile grew as she neared him, and as she drew close Trevor suffered no difficulty clarifying that indeed the green of her eyes was flecked with a bit of gold, allowing them to shine. Her face was small and sat perfectly atop her long neck, and in it, those eyes seemed large and round and beguiling. Below, her nose was tiny and button-like, and further, her lips were neither heart-shaped nor bowed, but thick and lush, even while in repose, but magnificent when stretched across that line of perfectly straight teeth when she smiled.
And there were those dimples again.
“Good eve, my lord,” she greeted him, taking up both his hands in hers and squeezing them affectionately. He returned the warm welcome, for how could he not, surprised—though he shouldn’t have been—at how petite and delicate her hands felt in his large hold. Nicole Kent was as lovely as anything he’d everseen, and then far lovelier when she turned those bright eyes so happily upon a person. Trevor wondered if, in all his life, he’d ever met anyone whom he’d liked so well, so quickly upon meeting them. He thought not.
“Good evening, Nicole,” he said. “You are beautiful tonight. You outshine every girl here.”
She blushed prettily at his words. “Do you think so, my lord?”
“Absolutely.”
Before him, she visibly relaxed, even blew out a small sigh. “Oh, thank heavens. Sabrina said I looked like a spotted mole in sunshine.”
He knew his frown was tremendous then but seemed unable to curtail it and his vexed response. “Ah, the ever charming—though elusive—Sabrina.”
“Don’t be angry with her, my lord. She will come ‘round. This all came as quite a shock to her.”
“To me, as well,” he murmured, noting that she made no specific excuse for Sabrina’s flight from him this very evening. Over the top of Nicole’s head, he spied two of his cronies, Lords Abercorn and Isherwood, making their way toward him. Having no intention of putting Nicole anywhere near these two bounders, he said in a polite but dismissive tone, “Save me a dance, Nicole—if you’ve any left on your card.” And he winked at her as she nodded and turned to find the group she’d abandoned when she’d spotted him earlier.
NICOLE KENT STOOD AMONGher circle of acquaintances, giving a fair sigh for her frustration. True, she did enjoy the frippery and splendor of these events, all this being relatively new to her. She’d had her come out last season after her presentation at court, but it had been delayed by her father’s illness—a rather severe bout of the ague last spring—which had kept them in the country longer than expected. As it was, this affair was only her third ball, but already the thrill of it was lost as Sabrina had dashed any joy with her cruel and deplorable behavior towards Trevor.
Nicole turned her head, her eyes once again settling on the Earl of Leven. She felt particularly sorry for him, being aware of his circumstance, which all but forced him to have no choice but to accept Sabrina, faults and ill-behavior and all. Would that I were the child of the grand inheritance, she thought wistfully, thinking there was no man so handsome as Trevor Wentworth. Nicole let her eyes wander about the room, to verify her claim.
It was true, she decided after a moment. Trevor Wentworth stood at least half a head taller than any man present, his shoulders so broad as to surely cause his tailor fits. The very size and strength of his legs, encased rather snugly in his black breeches, let a person know this man was no idle lord, that indeed his years in service to the crown, and likely upon a horse, had left its mark. Nicole thought of his hands, so large and strong when he’d held hers, but pursed further thoughts from her mind.
Guy Fellows, with whom she was only newly acquainted, stood at her side presently. She knew he attempted to engage her in private conversation—he’d already placed his name on her card—but Nicole would have none of this. Guy was genial and quite entertaining but had proven to be a mean-spirited person at times, leaving Nicole with something of a distaste for him.She smiled blandly at some remark of his but quickly turned her attention back to the earl. Trevor stood with several other gentlemen, his person a stand-out among lesser men. She watched him laugh amiably at something said and envied any person who might be the recipient of that smile, or the deep richness of that chuckle, just warm enough to wash over a person in rivers of pleasure. And should his eyes, those dark blue rounds so piercing in intensity, rest upon a girl with anything akin to delight, surely, she would die happy.
Oh, my, Nicole thought.I am being quite fanciful. But it was not to be undone. She was not the only victim of this malady, aware that many eyes sought out the form of Trevor Wentworth and rested quite remarkably upon his person. He turned his own head about the room, seeming to disregard all eyes upon him, until his gaze settled on Nicole. Automatically, she smiled at him, uncaring that he found her watching him. He inclined his head in response, his nearly black hair, short-cropped and with just a bit of a wave to it, shining under the many candles strung above. His gaze slid off her and over Guy Fellows, still at her side, attempting again to make conversation with her. As not to be completely rude, Nicole turned her attention to Guy, but not before she surmised just a small unpleasant curl to the earl’s lip as he studied the other man.
“I was saying, Miss Kent, that the air in this room is growing a bit thin,” Guy said, making a show to swipe at the beads of sweat on his very high forehead. “Miss Borrow and Miss Clare have requested some company out on the terrace.”
Nicole saw that indeed, those two ladies had left their group and headed toward one set of French doors that would lead a person directly outside.
“Shall we join them?” Guy asked, offering his arm, showing more gums than teeth when he smiled.
“Of course,” Nicole allowed, placing her hand upon his sleeve. He steered her through the crush, skimming around the crowded dance floor and to a separate set of French doors, though these led to the terrace as well. “This is much better, indeed,” she granted, once upon the flagstone, with fresh air upon her face. “I don’t see Miss Borrow or Miss Clare.” She glanced up and down the terrace, finding several people taking air, but not the ones she sought.
“Likely, they moved off into the garden,” Guy suggested, guiding Nicole down the stone steps and out into the yard before she thought better of it.
When they were quite a distance from the house itself, when the great light from the magnificent windows began to fade, Nicole removed her hand from Guy’s arm. “I don’t see them out here, sir. We should return.” She wasn’t panicked, but she saw clearly what this man was about.
He confirmed her suspicions when he persisted. “Surely, the ladies are just a bit deeper along the path.” He reached for her hand.
Nicole retreated a step. “Tis enough air for me, thank you, sir. Perhaps you might find them still, but I shall return to the house,” she said before he might try to take her hand again. She noted that Guy’s face registered some visible distress, his gaze fixed above and beyond Nicole. But she spun on her heel to be away from him, and promptly crashed into the solid wall of a hard chest.
She bounced back, a startled gasp escaping, finding the earl there, his hands upon her arms to steady her. His handsome facewas stiffened into a hard mien, his eyes dangerously dark as they fixed over her head on Guy. Nicole half-turned in his arms, as much as he would allow.
“You have somewhere to be,” he suggested tightly, to which the younger man nodded slowly and mutely, before Trevor added harshly, “From now on, it is not within ten feet of her, do you understand?”
Aghast, Nicole could only stare up at him, her back to Guy, shocked as she was by this turn in his character. “My Lord—what—?”
