The moment the waltz came to an end, Victor led Miss Simpson back to her happy mama. After enduring the expected exchange of pleasantries, and the equally expected list from the mother of all of Miss Simpson’s virtues and why she would make a perfect duchess, he excused himself.
He looked towards the French doors at the end of the ballroom. Lady Felicity had not returned.
Nor had he seen any other man leave the ballroom after her, discreetly or otherwise. He had paid close attention, wondering with whom she had arranged a secret liaison, but no man had followed her from the room.
Could it mean she was unwell? She had certainly looked distressed when she had broken from Lord Thornton.
He walked across the room, running an assessing eye over the debutantes, all lined up like pretty flowers waiting for him to take his pick. That was what he should be focusing on, finding the next Duchess of Greystone, not worrying about that flighty young woman who was probably just playing some sort of game with some poor man who would soon come to regret being her latest source of amusement.
He once again looked towards the French doors. But what if she was unwell? Even Lady Felicity should not be left alone to suffer.
But did he want to risk being alone with her? He had thought himself over her, but one look into those big blue eyes, one touch of her hand, and it was obvious that he was not.
Memories of other times he had been alone with her, on nights like this, flooded back, taking control of his mind and his body. He walked over to the side of the room, leant against the wall, closed his eyes briefly and drew in a series of deep breaths.
How often had they escaped from the ballroom, desperate to be in each other’s arms? How many moonlit nights had he held her, kissed her, caressed her beautiful body, desperate to take what he knew he should not until their wedding night?
His eyes flew open. Her desire for him had always been as fierce as his own, and it had always been him who had shown self-control. Now that he knew what she was really like it was laughable that he had done so.
No, he would not go to her. He would not be caught up in her games yet again. If she was unwell, one of the men she had been flirting with could tend to her. If she was waiting for another man to join her in the garden, then good luck to him. He hoped that man was not as much a gullible fool as he had been.
He looked around the room, at the flock of pretty debutantes desperate to catch his eye, then crossed the room, bowed in front of the first debutante he reached and asked her for the next dance, determined to never again succumb to the abundant charms of Lady Felicity.
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