Page 18 of Wynter's Bite

Chapter Eight

Bethany searched the Tennyson’s ballroom for Justus. She’d had the most ghastly day entertaining their neighbor, Lord Tench. He’d stayed for afternoon tea and then bade Bethany to escort him through the garden, walking slowly as he leaned on his cane and sometimes having her support him. The man was older than her grandfather, with liver spotted hands that managed to touch her breasts and bum when she walked with him.

Now she needed Justus to cheer her up and banish the day’s ordeal from her mind. He’d said he was almost finished reading The Song of Roland and she greatly looked forward to his thoughts on the epic poem, almost as much as she anticipated the dance he’d promised her.

Her mother bent to her ear, advising her on the best way to secure a dance with Lord Willoughby’s heir and how to engage Sir Hubert Huxtable in conversation at supper. Bethany sighed. Mother’s matchmaking furor had risen to feverish heights over the past few days. Bethany could not fathom why Mother was in such a rush. She wasn’t even due to make her official come out until next Spring. There was plenty of time to secure a match.

Though if Justus offered for her, she would gladly accept. Not only would that put an end to Mother’s irksome way of throwing her at every unwed male in their path, but it would also guarantee Bethany a future with someone she was fond of.

More than fond. If Bethany was to be honest with herself, she must resign herself to the fact that she was head over heels in love with Justus. His kiss last night had haunted her dreams even more than the previous one.

Why hadn’t Mother pushed her towards Justus? Surely Viscount de Wynter was a good match. He was titled, held land, and clearly had enough income to be able to afford his fine clothes. Unless he was on credit, common sense reminded her. But even if he was up to his ears in debt, Bethany would love him all the same. Certainly her parents would not object to his suit.

But did he have any interest in marrying her? He’d told her that he was unable to call upon her during the day, yet the way he sought her out every evening felt like a courtship. Not to mention the kisses he’d stolen, and the way he held her when they danced.

Yet he hadn’t said a word about matrimony.

Before she plunged into doldrums, Bethany glimpsed Justus across the room. His eyes gleamed with naked joy to see her as he favored her with a brilliant smile.

Murmuring some excuse to her mother, she slipped away and planned the best way to weave through the crush without making it obvious that she was going to him. Not for the first time she wondered why Justus insisted on keeping their friendship a secret. Was he, as a rake, perhaps ashamed to call a debutante friend? Or was it because he had no intention of marrying her and did not want people to speculate?

Once she worked her way to Justus’s side by pretending interest in Mr. Fenton’s talk of a cricket match, Bethany met his gaze and the happiness she saw in his eyes made her happy to be his friend, no matter what.

Another gentleman overheard Mr. Fenton’s remarks about a certain player and launched an ardent debate, freeing Bethany.

Justus bowed as if he only just noticed her standing beside him. “Miss Mead, you are a vision this evening. Would you do me the honor of partnering me in the next waltz?”

Bethany’s breath fled her lungs. He never waltzed with her, except for the night they’d first met. Such a dance implied romance. Justus raised a brow at her silence and she curtsied. “I would enjoy that above all things.”

He stepped closer to her, taking her gloved hands in his. She blinked. Aside from dancing, he also never touched her in front of anyone. Could he have changed his mind about courting her? “I shall count the minutes,” he said before pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

The musicians struck up a tune for the first quadrille and Bethany reluctantly left him as a gentleman she’d promised the first dance to came to collect her. She too found herself counting the minutes to their waltz, sighing in disappointment that Justus didn’t deign to join this dance so she could spend a few moments in his arms.

When the dance ended, she bit back a groan of despair as her dancing partner escorted her back to her mother.

Lady Wickshire favored her with a stern frown. “I saw you speaking with Lord de Wynter again. I do not approve.”

“Why not?” Bethany said. “He’s unmarried and a viscount.”

Cecily’s nostrils looked pinched. “And a notorious rake. If you’d heard half the gossip, you’d faint.”

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