Page 22 of A Gentleman's Kiss
“Yes, I know,” he said, his face becoming serious once again, and he pulled her hands back into his. “What I am trying to say Lillian, is there have been articles about you in the paper.” Dominick paused a moment, as if contemplating what to say. “They are about why you are here, and who you are.”
Lillian’s face drained of color at the realization of what he was saying. So they knew… He was trying to save her the embarrassment of being called a husband hunting harlot. Little black spots danced before her eyes, and Lillian, blinking rapidly, forced the stars to float away.
This is why he wanted the carriage ride; he didn’t want me to run away.
“You must think me a horrible person,” she whispered, her voice becoming hoarse as she choked back tears.
“Horrible? No! I would never, you couldn’t help the accident. You cannot decide who lives or dies. You cannot predict what rumors will build and what people will say about you. Humans make their own judgments whether right or wrong.” Dominick’s hands grasped her shoulders as he pulled her close.
The tears refused to be held back, spilling down her cheeks. Her tears came hard, racking her entire body. All the while, Dominick held her close, caressing her back and whispering sweet words in her ear.
She pushed back from him. “You don’t know. It was my fault. If I hadn’t been so selfish, and insisted on going to a function for a silly man, I would not be here, and my parents would not be dead. It is my fault they are dead. It is my fault that I’ve come here. My—“ She cut herself short before she told him how much her cousins and aunt abhorred her being within their home.
“Lillian, darling, no,” Dominick said pulling her closer. “No, if your mother and father truly did not want to go they would not have. They were excited for you. Nothing could have stopped this from happening. Fate plays a big part in our lives. They might have passed on another trip. You cannot blame yourself. It is the will of God, and he alone decides who stays and goes.”
“Then you don’t hate me?”
“Hate you? My darling, I could never hate you. I cannot stay away from you.”
As he gazed into her eyes, she knew then, she loved this man. She could see in his eyes he loved her too.
He leaned in, and she couldn’t believe it, she yearned for this moment many nights. His mouth came within inches of hers, she could feel his breath on her face, and the world disappeared around her. There was no carriage, no park, no Society, no rumors, or elbowing cousins, just two people who loved each other deeply. Time stood still for awhile as they stared into each other’s eyes. Their lips were so close she could sense them on her skin. Then his mouth moved upward, to place a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. Lillian closed her eyes, holding her breath, not sure how to react.
“We should get back. You will be late for your own ball.”
Lillian opened her eyes, taking in the mixed emotions on his face. He looked just as she felt. Tormented, confused.
“Yes, I suppose you are right,” she said, somewhat disappointed that he had not kissed her upon the lips. “But what am I to do, if someone should ask me of my parents, of my past?”
“Simply say, it was a tragic accident, and you are still tender about it. They will not bother you. If it should become too much, come to me and I will save you.”
Dominick winked, and she could feel the excitement and turmoil of love swishing through her veins.
*****
People milled about, music played. Laughter and cheers of merriment spilled from the cloud of guests. Lillian danced for nearly an hour with several of the Ton’s eligible bachelors. Lord Wessex was the best dancer so far, and she could not wait to dance with him again. She found herself peering around shoulders and twisting her head this way and that to catch a glimpse of him—and she was not at all surprised on one occasion to see him dancing with Tamara and the next, Susannah.
She curtsied to her latest partner, Lord Milbourne, a short red-headed fellow, with a handsome face, and muscles too large for his stature. They danced with barely a word spoken between them—his face flushed red, he was most likely not quite a talker to begin with. When the dance concluded, he offered to escort her off the floor until her next partner arrived, and she readily agreed. However, when she turned around she came face to face with Sir Trenton.
“Miss Whitmore, I believe my name is next on your dance card?” he asked with a low bow. His every move was graceful. His black suit was crisp and smooth, and not a hair was out of place.
“Sir Trenton, it has been a pleasure my lady,” Lord Milbourne excused himself.
“Why, Sir Trenton, you know your name is not on my card.” She gave a curtsy. “Perhaps some punch first?”
“Of course,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’ll have you know that Sir Clinton, informed me of his excitement to dance with you and I had to dash his hopes.”
She took his arm. “For shame, Sir Trenton, why would you do such a thing? What did you say?”
He flashed her a wicked smile. “I wanted you for myself of course, I merely told him you had a penchant for stepping on toes, and he was wearing a very expensive new pair of shoes. He bade me tell you he was not feeling well, and perhaps he could request a dance at the next ball.”
“You made me out to seem unschooled,” she pursed her lips in a pout, but truly she felt like laughing. To think the dandy, Sir Clinton was more concerned about his shoes than anything else.
“He expected it, knowing you are from America. You see only a true gentleman can tell a rare treasure when he sees one.”
His words mirrored sweet things she’d heard from Sir Wessex.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The memory of Sir Trenton had been distant the whole evening. Lillian’s gaze had searched only for Dominick. The sight of Sir Trenton beside her now, his charismatic way of speaking, brought back a rush of emotion. She was disconcerted at what both of these men did to her. On the one hand Dominick was the perfect gentleman—despite his social blunders—and he was caring and sweet. They’d shared an extremely intimate moment in the carriage with her spilling her fears and him easing away her tears. Deep down, she knew she loved Dominick, and was nearly positive he loved her. Sir Trenton was the simple—er simpleish— handsome, kind man she thought she wanted, but she didn’t really know him. He also tended to be a little more forceful in his affections than she would have liked. And he was most certainly a rake, but one who seemed fond of the reputation rather than acting it out, at least from what she knew.
