… she, poor soul,
Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak,
And sits as one new-risen from a dream.
—The Taming of the Shrew, act 4, scene 1
He didn’t stop until he stood between the young lady and the dance floor. “Miss Wright?” he asked.
Long, full lashes rose, and she looked up at him with the most vibrant green eyes he’d ever seen. In that instant, Adam’s lower stomach tightened perceptibly and his lower body thickened. He hadn’t felt that instant rush of deep, aching desire in way too long, and he didn’t know if he wanted to embrace it or run from it. He didn’t ever remember feeling such a strong pull of awareness, not even when he first saw Annie.
Now that he was standing before her, gazing into those deep green pools, he felt sure he saw not only wistfulness, but a hint of sadness in their depths. That intrigued him even more.
“Miss Wright?” he said again. “I know we haven’t been properly introduced, but I’m the Earl of Greyhawke. Would you give me the pleasure of finishing this dance with me?”
She looked stricken by his question, but not fragile. Her eyes opened wider. The softer, more personal emotions quickly faded to surprise. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but it was as if she couldn’t find the breath to say the words. She promptly closed her lips again without uttering a sound.
Adam could understand that she was astonished he’d approached her without benefit of a proper introduction. Some people had been banished from Society for less serious infractions. But good Lord, they were eighteen years into the nineteenth century. Surely she wouldn’t insist they stand on such an old ceremony. If he was willing to overlook the presentation, why couldn’t she?
He said again, “Would you like to dance?”
Still, she remained quiet, searching his face as if trying to ascertain if he were real or a figment of her imagination. Her continued hesitation to speak baffled him.
Adam felt an unfamiliar prickle of rejection. He should have stayed with the easier idea of getting a drink. What had made him think this beautiful young lady looked as lonely as he felt and that she would be agreeable to lightening his load for a few moments on the dance floor?
Damnation, it wasn’t that he wanted to dance. He could take or leave a set around the floor. At the moment, he just wanted to do anything other than think about Bray, Harrison, their wives, and their babes.
Suddenly, and maybe more than a little irrationally, but still peeved that his friends sought to leave him out of a very important part of their lives, he bristled and said, “It’s a simple question, Miss Wright. I’m not asking you to marry me, just to dance.”
Her head tilted back farther and her chin lifted boldly. But rather than being affronted by his terse manner, she seemed amused. The hint of a lovely smile lifted one corner of her mouth and she said, “Then it’s my misfortune that it’s not a marriage proposal, because if it had been, I’d be delighted to say yes. But since it’s merely an invitation to dance, I’ll say no. Is that simple enough for you, my lord?”
Her voice was sweet and unhurried, gentler than he’d expected, especially since his last sentence to her had been a bit abrupt. It washed over him as silkily as warm, sudsy water. Adam’s irritation melted away. And much to his surprise, he felt another tightened tug of sexual awareness. She had mettle, and that appealed to him.
“In that case, Miss Wright, I suppose it’s a good thing I wasn’t asking for your hand.”
“A very good thing,” she answered in the same light tone and manner as before. “You just saved yourself from being taken off the marriage mart tonight.”
Her response surprised him again. She obviously wasn’t the least bit shy to be talking to an earl. In fact, she was actually impertinent. And blast it, he liked that, too.
He relaxed and took the time to give her a more thorough consideration. Thick, rich-looking auburn hair was attractively swept up with pink ribbons woven through it. Parchment-pale skin, beautiful face, slender throat, ample breasts. From what he could discern from the high-waisted gown she wore, he had every reason to believe she had a shapely body beneath her gown. Yes, she was very pleasing to him.
Adam casually crossed his arms over his chest. “Must I wait for a proper introduction before you will dance with me?”
“I’m not that supercilious, my lord.”
That was abundantly clear, yet she’d refused him. “Then perhaps you will indeed need a marriage proposal before you will share a set with me.”
She inhaled deeply, and he couldn’t keep his gaze from dropping to her chest to watch the rise and fall. He had lived lonely for far too long and she was far too tempting for his precarious state.
“Not even then,” she answered.
Then when?
She was frustrating him more than his friends had. He lowered his arms and said, “My apologies if my information was wrong and I’m mistaken and you’re married?”
A slight flush heightened her cheeks. “No, my lord. I’m not wed, nor am I betrothed.”
That piqued his interest in her even more. “Then I can only assume that because you are the niece of a powerful duke, you have no interest in dancing with a lowly earl.”
“A lowly earl?” she questioned, and her eyes sparkled with amusement that was infectious. “I think perhaps you would like for that to be the case. Maybe that way you could say I met your expectations.”
Hellfire, he hadn’t expected anything. No, that wasn’t true. He’d expected a dance. Was that too much to ask? What he hadn’t expected was for her to be so charming, so arousing, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to refuse him.
But he said, “I had no expectations other than a few steps, skips, and twirls across the dance floor.”
“But alas, it’s just that I don’t dance.”
His brows rose in disbelief. His fascination with her was growing with each sentence she spoke. He held her pinioned with his gaze and said, “The niece of a duke and you don’t dance?”
“That’s right,” she said confidently, with no other excuses to follow.
“I find that difficult to believe. Perhaps it’s that you just don’t care to dance with me?”
A wrinkle formed in her brow. “Wouldn’t it be foolish of me to decline a lively quadrille with a handsome gentleman such as yourself and especially an earl?”
Yet you do.
“Well…” He crossed his arms again and smiled ruefully. He was actually enjoying their banter and was in no hurry for it to end. “I admit I was thinking that very thing, but still you declined my offer.”
“Then don’t you think that I must have a very good reason for not dancing with you?”
“Indeed I do, but I don’t know what it is. Perhaps you are a young lady who enjoys the thrill of being chased by all the handsome bachelors in England?”
She granted him a soft, teasing smile that showed beautiful even teeth. She even laughed a little, a lilting sound that swept over him like a cooling breeze on a rare, sultry summer day. Chances were she had no idea how instinctively sensual she was. He would love to be the one to awaken her womanly desires.
“I don’t run either, my lord.”
Though her voice was breathy, her eyes, her expression, challenged him to continue their lighthearted conversation. The devil take it, Adam had never been able to ignore a challenge. She was flirting with him, and he was devouring every moment of it as if he were a hungry animal. And after more than two years on the northern coast, perhaps he was.
All right, she had him right where she wanted him. The lure to play this out her way was too great to ignore. He had to take the enticement she had been laying out before him, whether intended or not, since he’d first caught sight of her. He meant to see she didn’t win this battle between their wills.
“I don’t like to lose, Miss Wright. What will it take for you to dance with me?”
She looked as if she were pretending to think about that and then said, “It will take a miracle.”
Adam blew out a laugh. Softly, but a real laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time it had actually felt good to laugh.
“I’m afraid that if I ever had favor with the one who bestows miracles, I lost it long ago.”
“So did I, my lord.”
Her eyes turned sad again, her words almost wistful again. The way she looked at him changed the rhythm of his heartbeat. Something moved deep inside him, and he knew what it was. Attraction. Deep, primal attraction that sank into his loins and buried there. He didn’t want to be drawn to her, but he was. He couldn’t stop the pull she had on him, and he didn’t want to try.
Right now, more than anything, he wanted to dance with her, to touch her hand, to caress her fingertips, to circle her waist and twirl her under his arm. He wanted to lose himself in the joy of feeling a woman in his arms, a woman he wanted to be close to.
“Dance with me,” he said, and knew the words came from the depths of his heart and sounded far more earnest, and way more desperate, than he’d intended.
She blinked slowly. He could see deep emotions gathering in her eyes and settling on her face. Somehow he knew she was feeling what he felt. She wanted to dance with him, too. For a fleeting moment, his heart soared. Though the quadrille was almost over, she was going to say yes.
Instead, she moistened her lips, swallowed, and said, “I don’t dance, my lord. I have never danced and I never will.”
Her voice was clotted with emotion and hampered by sudden erratic breathing. He saw a flash of anguish in her eyes. Why did a request to dance evoke such a response from her? A desire to draw her to his chest and soothe her grew inside him.
Before he could respond to her, she said, “Now, please excuse me, my lord.”
She turned away, and that was when he saw she used a cane.
Oh, hell!
She relied heavily on it to walk, but her shoulders never dropped and her back never bowed. Disbelief assailed him. All the time he stood in front of her, he never saw the cane in her hand. How had that happened? It must have been hidden in the folds of her gown. He must have been too intrigued by her countenance, her eyes, and her words to notice that she supported herself with a cane.
Adam felt as if all six feet four inches of him flattened to the floor. He let out a frustrated sigh. That had to be the worst blunder he’d ever made. Fate was definitely making it up to him for all the times it saved his life when he was younger. Why hadn’t she just told him?
The music came to an end, the sound of hands clapping and feet tamping on the dance floor quieted. He started to go after Miss Wright to apologize, but she’d been too quickly swallowed up in the group leaving the dance floor.
And what would he say to her, anyway?
Damned if he knew, but he had to try to find a way to let her know he wasn’t being heartless. That was, if she ever agreed to speak to him again. He turned and looked over at Bray and Harrison. They both quickly glanced away from him. They had watched him stand there and talk to her, and neither of them had made a move to come to his aid. He should kill both of them. Yes, strangling them with his bare hands might feel damn good right about now.
He strode over to them with purpose and said, “You two bloody blackguards let me walk over there and ask Miss Wright to dance knowing she couldn’t. You are supposed to be my friends. Which one of you wants to die first?”
Bray and Harrison each quickly pointed to the other and said, “Him.”
“I should tie up both of you with a boulder and rope and send you straight to the bottom of the Thames.”
“Please, not me,” Bray said, clearly holding his laughter in check. “You know I hate a cold swim.”
“I’m not interested in such a black, watery demise either,” Harrison said, hiding a smile by wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “But you can’t say we didn’t try to warn you not to ask her to dance.”
“Not very hard,” Adam muttered.
“I thought we tried very hard, didn’t you, Harrison?” Bray said, the edges of his lips quivering.
“I know I did,” Harrison agreed. “You’ll remember, Adam, I even tried to hold you.”
“And that’s the only reason I’ve decided to spare your lives.” Adam stopped and hesitated. “What do you know about her?”
Bray cleared his throat and said, “Not much. This is her second or maybe third Season. She seems to spend time at the parties with a group of ladies who call themselves the Wilted Tea Society.”
Adam frowned. “What kind of name is that?”
“A dreadful one,” Harrison said. “I’ve heard it’s in reference to the fact that the ladies are not old enough to be dried-up weeds on a shelf as true spinsters, but most of them are getting older and still unwed, so they are only slightly wilted.”
Adam harrumphed at that idea. Miss Wright was not in any way slightly wilted. “Do you know what happened to her?”
“I’m remembering her leg was injured in a carriage accident, but I can’t be sure,” Harrison said.
“It was,” Bray added. “Everyone in her family was killed but her. And from what I heard, she almost died.”
That would be devastating to anyone. “Recent?” Adam asked.
Bray shook his head. “I don’t think so, but just how long ago it was I don’t know. I’m afraid I don’t know any details.”
“Sorry, ol’ chap. Neither do I,” Harrison said when Adam looked to him for more answers.
Adam remembered seeing sadness in her eyes before their conversation had begun. Perhaps she’d been thinking about the accident. And what about the wistfulness he’d sensed in her as well? Why was that on her lovely face? Was it because she couldn’t dance?
Suddenly, Adam had the outrageous thought that he could teach her to dance, if she’d let him. He didn’t know where that thought had come from, but he let go of it quickly. He didn’t even know what was wrong with her leg, or foot, or whatever the hell it was that caused her to limp and need a cane.
Adam would acknowledge that he felt empathy and a tenderness for her. She had obviously been hurt, but pursuing a young lady for any reason was not in his plans.
Would never be in his plans again.
“She lives with the duke, his brother, and their sister,” Bray offered. “But for how long I don’t know.”
“I do know she’s not without beaux,” Harrison offered. “As you would imagine, being that she’s the duke’s only unmarried niece. I think several eligible bachelors have called on her the past two Seasons. I heard that more than a handful have put pressure on the duke for her to accept their proposal. She’s refused them all.”
“Perhaps they’ve all made as big a blunder as I just did,” Adam said, grumbling more to himself than his friends.
“I doubt that.”
“Harrison,” Bray admonished with a roll of his eyes and a slight shake of his head.
Harrison cleared his throat. “Sorry, Adam. I mean, I can find out more about her if you want.”
“I don’t,” Adam said quickly. “I’m capable of asking her anything I might want to know.”
“Fair enough. We’ll leave it up to you.”
“Look,” Bray said, “why don’t we skip dinner here and go over to White’s for a few drinks and a game of cards and billiards?”
“I’m staying here,” Adam said. “You two go ahead.”
He couldn’t leave until he spoke to Miss Wright again. She aroused protective feelings in him that were unwelcome and unsettling, but he had to talk to her again. He wouldn’t allow himself to be interested in her no matter how lovely and clever she was. All he wanted to do was let her know he hadn’t meant to be so lame-headed. And he intended to find out what was wrong with her leg. Was it her hip, her knee, or her ankle that caused her problem?
“I don’t plan to stay for brandy after the dinner, but I do plan to stay for the meal. How about you, Bray?”
“Same here,” he said. “Unless, of course, Adam needs me to stay.”
“Better yet,” Adam said with a rumble in his voice, “why don’t you two go home to your wives? I’m sure they need you. I just discovered that I can still get in trouble without your help.”
“Indeed you can,” Harrison said. He tried to hide his smile again, but the quiver at the corners of his mouth betrayed him, and suddenly he and Bray were laughing out loud.
Adam twitched a smile, too. He couldn’t stay angry with his friends. Besides, it was his fault that he hadn’t noticed Miss Wright held a cane. She must have thought him a nodcock with the way he was demanding she dance with him.
He’d enjoyed Miss Wright’s flirting and banter, and though his body was telling him he desperately wanted to, he couldn’t pursue her.