Page 67 of The Duke of Desire
West felt her stiffen and saw a shadow drop over her eyes.
“I became dizzy,” she said, rather flatly, West thought. He looked at the other women to see their reaction. They exchanged looks. Yes, something was amiss here, but he had no idea what.
Unless it was him.
She’d said their association was over, that shewantedit to be. This was not going the way he’d planned. But then he’d never encountered a woman who hadn’t wanted him. He suddenly felt like an arrogant prick.
He stood, drawing all three women to turn their heads toward him. He looked down at Ivy. She appeared exactly as he’d always dreamed of her—in an elegant gown that draped her body to perfection, her hair swept into a sophisticated style, jewels warming her soft, ivory neck. It took everything he had to walk away from her right now. But that was precisely what he would do. For now. Tomorrow, when things settled down, he would try again. He had to.
“I’ll leave you in their capable hands,” he said.
“Thank you.” For what, he wondered? For dancing with her? For carrying her from the dance floor? For leaving?
He hoped it was the first, but feared it was the last. Tomorrow, he would find out.
Walking out into the vestibule, he stopped short when Lady Lamberton moved into his path. She was a vision of loveliness in an ice-blue gown. She looked cool and untouchable. Until she turned her gaze on him, and he knew that forhim, she was as accessible as he could want.
She sauntered toward him. “Who was that you were dancing with?”
“Miss Breckenridge.” West wasn’t about to explain to Lady Lamberton that Ivy was a companion. She’d likely hear about that soon enough.
Why did it matter? Was Ivy somehow less because of her station? Yes, in the eyes of Lady Lamberton, and indeed of the rest of Society. But in West’s?
He tensed, growing angry with himself. Perhaps he had thought less of her. All while telling her he hadn’t. He owed her an apology.
When he thought of all she’d overcome—certain ruination—and the manner in which she helped others, his admiration for her intensified. She was, he realized, the finest woman he’d ever known. She was a glorious phoenix who’d risen from the ashes.
“I don’t believe I’ve heard of her.” Lady Lamberton shot him a suggestive smile. “She likely isn’t the first young lady to swoon in your arms.”
Actually, she was. “She simply became dizzy.”
The brunette with the curls came from the retiring room and walked toward the cardroom. West deduced that she was likely fetching Lady Dunn and chastised himself for not thinking to do that himself.
Some of the people who’d followed them to the vestibule returned to the ballroom, however a small group remained, chief among them Lady Lamberton. West wanted to herd them away, but didn’t wish to make a scene. He also didn’t want to leave himself.
A moment later, the young woman and Lady Dunn walked from the cardroom. West had never seen Lady Dunn move so quickly, the tip of her cane clacking at sharp, rapid intervals against the marble floor.
Two gentlemen followed behind them, and West immediately recognized them as the Earls of Dartford and Sutton. He vaguely recalled that both had married this past Season and assumed the women with Ivy were their wives. They didn’t go into the retiring room but waited just outside.
The dark-haired woman came out and spoke to them. Observing the way she laid her hand against Dartford’s arm, West deduced she was his countess. Dartford nodded at whatever she said.
Ivy emerged from the retiring room then, her arm tucked over the woman who was surely the Countess of Sutton. Her gaze flicked about the room and settled on West just as Lady Lamberton sidled close.
“Ah, she looks quite recovered,” Lady Lamberton said softly.
West resisted the urge to wave her away like a troublesome fly, just as he restrained himself from going to Ivy and insisting on escorting her to her coach.
Ivy’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly but she looked away from him so quickly that West wondered if he might have imagined it. Lady Dartford went to her other side, and she left the Assembly Rooms between the two women.
Lady Lamberton exhaled, her soft breath tickling West’s neck. “I suppose the entertainment is over.”
West turned sharply as he took a step away from her. “If you consider that entertainment, you’re an ugly person, Lady Lamberton. I bid you good evening.”
He considered leaving, but instead went to the cardroom in search of whiskey. If they didn’t serve it there, surely the building boasted some room that was set aside for the gentlemen to drink. Just over the threshold, he was greeted by a tall, lanky fellow who looked as if he’d developed too much of a fondness for sweets. He smiled jovially. “Clare, isn’t it?” he asked, offering his hand.
West shook it quickly, eager to be on his way. “Yes.”
“I’m Bothwick,” he said, releasing West’s hand. “I say, is that young lady all right? I saw her collapse right into your arms.”
