Page 15 of Seducing a Frigid Lady
“I am sure I shall dance when I am ready,” Priscilla insisted, “If I am indeed asked to dance.”
Even as she said it, she offered a cold-eyed glare at a nearby gentleman who had turned to gaze at her. Though it lasted only a moment before she glanced away, she knew the moment that she dared to glance in his direction again, he would no longer be looking at her.
“I need not remind you of the main reason for these balls, Prissy,” Lady Bishop said, looking out over the dancefloor, pointedly looking toward the single ladies dancing with eligible bachelors. “Yes, there are several reasons, but there has always been one that shines above all others.”
“No, you need not remind me, aunt,” Priscilla responded, cringing as she always did when her aunt insisted upon calling her that terrible pet name. In an effort to hide it, she turned to the manservant who was arriving nearby for her to place her now empty punch glass upon the tray he was holding. “Thank you.”
She offered him a rare twitch of her lips in the form of a grateful smile before turning back to her aunt once more. “You really need not worry about me, Lady Bishop. I am more than capable of conducting myself at these events.”
“What kind of aunt would I be if I left you to the hounds alone?” Lady Bishop responded, clucking her tongue against her teeth and shaking her head. “No, I shall never be too far away.”
Then where you were the night of the Marsham dinner?Priscilla wondered, just barely able to stop herself from saying words out loud as she remembered how she had found herself alone in the gardens with Lord Sinclair.
She was relieved when aunt raised her glass to her and said softly, “I shall leave you in peace, though know I shall be keeping my eye on you.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Priscilla assured her, forcing a smile for her aunt.
Just as she had promised, Lady Bishop didn’t go too far, only stepping a short distance away to return to whatever conversation she’d been having with Sophie’s mother. Priscilla gave the other elder woman a nod of acknowledgement when Lady Marsham smiled at her.
Then, unwilling to invite anymore unneeded advice, she turned her full attention back towards the dancefloor. If only there were a gentleman in attendance whose company she could stomach enough to at least put her aunt’s mind at ease. Maybe then she might be able to get a little peace of her own.
Almost as though she had heard his thoughts, she noticed a new arrival out of the corner of her eye. Mr. Parr was, as usual, quite pleasant in appearance as he stepped into the room, greeting a couple of the gentlemen on the outer edge of the dancefloor.
There was little excitement at his arrival, though a few heads did begin to turn. The gentleman looked quite happy to offer a smile and a flirtatious look there as several women did step forward to greet him. But the real excitement began when his cousin stepped in behind him.
At the arrival of the viscount, Priscilla felt an odd fluttering in her chest, the likes of which she had never experienced before. He looked almost exactly as he had the last time she had seen him, though that was not at all a bad thing.
His dark hair was swept back from his face in a tousled fashion that made him look much more rugged than some of the other gentlemen around him. Wearing a navy jacket and matching waistcoat, the pale salmon pink cravat at his throat made his face look even more tanned than it had previously.
At the sight of him Priscilla’s stomach clenched and her heart fluttered, but it was all the other ladies in the room who seemed to burst into action at his arrival. She watched, her gut churning slightly as several young ladies and their mothers swarmed towards the main doors of the ballroom, all eager to be the first before the viscount.
Rarely was Priscilla glad that her mother was not with them, and this was one of those rare moments. She could imagine that if her mother had not died in childbirth, then she too would have gripped hold of Priscilla’s arm and dragged her before him.
A quick glance over her shoulder told Priscilla that her aunt and Lady Marsham had also noticed the viscount’s arrival. And though they both looked in her and Sophie’s direction, they did not act immediately. Priscilla could at least be glad that her aunt was not one for making them look too eager, even if she was determined.
Though she told herself more than once she was uninterested in whomever the viscount chose to take to the dancefloor first, she still found her gaze fluttering back towards the main doors where he and the newly formed crowd were standing.
And the moment that she did, she realised that the viscount’s head was swivelling, seemingly scanning above the heads of all the short ladies around him.I wonder who he is looking for;she wondered absentmindedly. As if there were not enough ladies gathered all around him for him to pick one of them to dance with first.Maybe he is looking for one of our hosts.
But as she watched, the viscount’s gaze skimmed right over the Trowtons, aiming directly ather. Her heart betrayed her once more and though she was startled by the way he immediately started to break away from the crowd, towards her, she fixed him with a cold glare. Looking away now would only make him even more likely to come. She was certain of it.
And yet the glare and the cold expression she found worked so often with other men did not seem to put Lord Sinclair off. In fact, his feet seemed to move faster with every step. And though several of the ladies trailed after him, his gaze did not leave her, even when several other guests crossed his path.
Priscilla darkened her gaze at him, scowling deeper and deeper with every inch he drew closer, and yet his smile only seemed to broaden.
Finally, he stood before her, a small crowd of young ladies and mothers hesitating at a short distance behind him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the way that several of them leaned over to whisper into each other’s ears, their gazes now darting to her rather than the viscount himself.
Bile rose in the back of her throat as she suddenly realised how this must look. Of all the women that the viscount could have approached first, he had moved directly to her, targeting her as though she was the one person in the room he wished to greet.
And that knowledge made her head spin.I have done nothing to deserve it,she thought, gritting her teeth as she remembered she had been just as cold to him as she had ever been with any other gentleman in the room.I do not want it.
“Miss Lloyd, I was wondering whether you might do me the honour of the next dance?” Lord Sinclair announced, offering her his gloved hand. The bile that had risen in Priscilla’s throat thickened now until she could barely breathe.
There were so many people crowded around them now that she wasn’t entirely sure whether or not she was imagining it. Were they all truly looking at her with as much interest as she believed they were?
She could not be sure, though she did know one thing for certain. There were enough people within earshot, enough people with eyes on them, that she could not possibly decline the viscount’s request without looking entirely rude and uncivilised.
Even without looking, she could sense her aunt creeping up to her side, likely preparing to remind her of the consequences if she did indeed deny the nobleman a dance.
