“Samantha, may I present, Lord Westwood?” Wilhelmina gushed as Sam and Mr. Reid joined them.
“Lord Westwood.” Sam acknowledged him with an awkward curtsy, acutely aware of the blush still rouging her features. “I believe we have met before.”
“Indeed, Miss Hastings, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again,” replied Lord Westwood with a slight smile, lifting her arm to lightly kiss her hand. His lips brushed softly across her skin, sending tingles racing up her arm. “I hope this conversation will be as pleasurable as our last one.”
Sam fought back a shiver as she withdrew her hand. She exhaled slowly to allow herself time to regain control over her erratic heart before raising her eyes to Lord Westwood’s face. Her gaze hesitated on his full lips, which curved into a playful smile. Of course, he would find her embarrassment amusing.
She lifted her eyes higher, attempting to keep her facial features indifferent. The intensity of his emerald smolder startled her, causing Sam to inhale quickly. Her childhood memory of him was vastly different from the man now standing directly in front of her.
“Edward never spoke of your introduction. However, I always sensed there was something unusual about it. How did you meet?” asked Wilhelmina. Sam shot daggers at her.
“Regretfully, I hardly remember our last meeting,” stated Sam, her dispassionate voice sounded flat.
“I see.” Lord Westwood’s eyes narrowed slightly, a barely noticeable, little crinkle. Her comment annoyed him. “That is a shame. Perhaps I should tell the story?”
Sam paled, her eyes flying around the circle. Wilhelmina and Mr. Reid regarded Lord Westwood with interest. Societal embarrassments were horrendous enough but having Wilhelmina privy to every childhood humiliation seemed too much to bear. Sam debated the terrace again. How quickly she could make it across the floor before anyone would react? Was Lord Westwood foolish enough to chase her down at Wilhelmina’s request? With his long legs, he would surely catch her within a few moments. Surprise would be her only chance. Her wild eyes fixed on Lord Westwood, pleading with him.
He gazed back at her, a softer expression on his face. His head tilted to one side as he contemplated the manic look bleeding from her eyes.
“Please,” Sam mouthed, her face already hot from humiliation.
He nodded once. “Unfortunately, I do not remember the details either.”
“Old age claims another victim,” teased Mr. Reid.
“Then in two minutes you are going to forget everything too,” countered Lord Westwood with a grin.
“Damn.”
“Thomas, I am appalled by your language,” Lord Westwood chastised him, a grin hovering on his lips. “There are ladies present.”
“I am not offended gentlemen, Edward has said worse.” Wilhelmina nodded at Sam. “In truth, Miss Hastings has also said much worse.”
Sam’s jaw popped open. She blushed a deep red. “I was provoked.”
“What were the two of you discussing so intently before we arrived?” Mr. Reid asked, winking at Sam as he abruptly changed the subject.
“Mrs. Hastings and I were just discussing Miss Hastings’ future,” Lord Westwood answered blithely. His green eyes flared with a whisper of something dark.
“My future?” questioned Sam with a suspicious glance in Wilhelmina’s direction. “Is this regarding the discussion we had earlier this evening where I explained I had no intention of marrying any suitor?”
Wilhelmina looked away at that exact moment, suddenly interested in the empty glass in her hand. Sam glared at her forehead, but Wilhelmina refused to meet Sam’s irate stare. Incensed, Sam puffed out her chest, preparing to unleash a barrage of inappropriate comments. The atmosphere surrounding the tiny circle crackled with Sam’s fury.
“Mrs. Hastings.” Mr. Reid flashed an impish grin, interrupting the impending dispute. He bowed elegantly toward Wilhelmina. “I do believe good manners require me to ask you for the next dance.”
“Good manners must always be observed Mr. Reid,” agreed Wilhelmina. She placed her empty cup on the silver tray of a passing servant.
Dismay crossed Sam’s face as Wilhelmina lightly grasped Mr. Reid’s offered arm. Sam’s heart hammered at the thought of being left alone with Lord Westwood. This reaction concerned her greatly. Even in a crowded room, his close proximity caused her brain to malfunction.
“Wilhelmina.” Her voice cracked unnaturally. “I must insist, as your chaperone...”
Sam’s voice faltered as she floundered for the words to complete her nonsensical argument. Three pairs of eyes stared–each with some degree of bewilderment–at her obvious discomfort. She wondered if they realized how much Lord Westwood affected her.
“Sam, I doubt Mr. Reid will try to ravish me on the dance floor,” laughed Wilhelmina, allowing him to lead her among the swaying couples.
“It is not that brother I am concerned about,” muttered Sam to their retreating backs.
“Does that mean you are worried about me?” a velvety voice whispered in her ear.
Sam spun to confront the voice with a resounding “No,” but the word died on her lips. She stared at his jacket, unable to meet his blazing stare. Mentally, she berated herself. She could speak to a man–this man–without fawning over his charming smile and deep, rumbling voice. She could look into his eyes without fear of drowning. Sam looked up, past his chin, past his full lips, and her knees gave way. His hand flew to grab her elbow, sending warm shivers through her skin.
“I am fine,” she murmured, partially dazed. “The heat of the ballroom must be bothering me.”
“Of course,” he agreed amiably, his hand still holding her arm. “Would you like to move closer to an open window?”
“Yes, thank you,” Sam nodded. She felt her strength gather as they walked side by side. No longer captivated by his mesmerizing eyes, Sam felt silly. She blamed her over-reaction on nerves.
“I am used to the cool air of country living,” Sam explained unconvincingly.
“Of course,” replied Lord Westwood, his lips twitching.
Sam took a deep breath and turned, stopping near a window. “Thank you.”
“What have I done to earn your gratitude?” He arched an eyebrow.
“You did not tell Wilhelmina about our first meeting.”
“You do remember,” confirmed Lord Westwood softly.
Sam nodded. “Wilhelmina witnesses my every social failure. It is exhausting to be continually compared to someone so perfect.”
“Mrs. Hastings is not perfect,” answered Lord Westwood. His quiet insult barely reached Sam’s ears.
She scoffed. “Apparently, you do not spend much time in society.”
“I try to avoid it.”
“We have that in common.” Sam’s eyes landed on Wilhelmina and Mr. Reid as they twirled past. Wilhelmina waved merrily, her face split into a wide grin.
“May I ask you one question?” Lord Westwood gazed at her with a peculiar expression.
“Certainly,” answered Sam, tearing her eyes away from Wilhelmina’s glee.
“What were you concentrating on with such intensity when I threatened to tell the story of our first meeting?”
Sam glanced down, a red tinge crawling up the back of her neck, indicating the balcony with a slight jerk of her head. “Whether or not I could make it over the railing before Wilhelmina realized I was missing.”
“What did you intend to do once you climbed over the balcony?” asked Lord Westwood.
“I was planning to shimmy down the column, using the ivy as a rope.” Sam lifted her head, a tiny smile pulling at her lips. “She would never catch me once I reached the drive.”
Lord Westwood struggled to keep his face neutral. “Do you think about escaping ballrooms often?”
“More often than I would care to admit.”
“I suppose, as a gentleman, I would have to attempt to prevent you from injuring yourself even if that caused a public scene.” Lord Westwood clasped his hands behind his back, casting his eyes upward with a dramatic sigh.
“Dragged away from the balcony in full view of society by Lord Westwood—that would definitely be one more mark against me,” murmured Sam ruefully, shaking her head sadly.
“I believe I am the one with the mark,” grinned Lord Westwood.
Sam glared at him, annoyed by his playful demeanor. “What are your designs on my future?”
“Miss Hastings, this is neither the time nor the place for such a serious conversation.”
“Mr. Reid,” Sam growled, reverting to the name she used during her youth, her eyes flashing.
“Lord Westwood,” he interrupted gently.
“Pardon me.”
“Lord Westwood, remember, I was titled.”
Sam rolled her eyes at the admonishment. “Lord Westwood,” she said, ridiculously emphasizing the words.
“Yes?” He inclined his head and smiled.
“Since it is my life, I would appreciate it if everyone would stop treating me like a child and allow me to make my own decisions.” Sam stamped her foot for emphasis.
His lips curved slightly; apparently, he was losing the battle to keep his face expressionless. “You are quite right.”
“Thank you.” Folding her arms, Sam nodded her head once.
“You are definitely not a child.” The words rolled over her skin, caressing, burning, their hidden meaning igniting a long-forgotten feeling.
“Nor am I easily seduced by a charming rake,” she spat, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. Her thoughts danced erratically, like flames flickering in a grate.
“No, I suppose your brother taught you a few things about avoiding men or ‘rakes’ as you so kindly put it.” He touched his hand to his forehead and inclined his head in a sharp bow.
“I know all about you,” retorted Sam, her eyes narrowing. “Your reputation is soiled enough, I would never even consider you a worthy match.”
“Miss Hastings,” Lord Westwood leaned closer, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Never issue a delicious challenge to such a notorious rake as I.”
“Edward told me about your wicked, seductive exploits too,” she began again forcefully, fighting the fire threatening to burn her from the inside.
“Were you intrigued?” His mouth moved closer to her ear, purring and threatening unknown pleasures. He touched her chin with his fingertips, tilting her head up toward him, his green eyes blazed. “Would you like to be seduced?”
“No.” The word, barely audible, tumbled from her mouth. “No, I would not.”
He smiled, his lips promising worlds of wonder and ecstasy. “I think you would, Miss Hastings. I think you would enjoy it immensely. I know I would.”
“Well, I am not you,” replied Sam haughtily.
“Quite right, and as your guardian, I would never allow you to marry such a notorious rake as myself, to quote your eloquent words.” Lord Westwood leaned back, dissolving the intimacy immediately, leaving Sam with a cold, empty feeling. The sounds of the ballroom whirled around her head, whipping into a deafening cacophony. Her legs trembled.
Did he say her guardian?
“My what?” shouted Sam, shock radiated from her core. Edward would never approve of such an immoral custodian, especially one with as appalling a reputation as Lord Westwood. How could Edward betray her to such a heathen?
A group of young ladies standing near the window glanced at Sam when she raised her voice. They quickly looked away again after Sam glared pointedly at the cluster of curious girls. A beautiful young lady, swathed in a pale lemon gown that accented her lithe figure, leaned in toward the other girls and began whispering in earnest. Periodically, one of the other women in the circle would glance up at Sam and giggle.
Sam shook her head; she detested this gossipy society. She sent a second filthy look in the direction of the little group of ladies, and they moved away slightly, still gathered tightly around the girl in the yellow dress. Sam chewed her tongue.
Would Wilhelmina’s ire be worth sharing a few impolite words with the eavesdropping socialites?
“Your guardian,” Lord Westwood repeated calmly, interrupting her internal struggle. “I promised your brother before he left on his ill-fated journey, I would watch out for your well-being.”
“Edward would never entrust me to you,” sputtered Sam.
Lord Westwood ignored Sam’s outburst. “And I swore I would approve of the suitor you wed, should something happen to him.”
“You will do no such thing,” Sam bellowed, not caring about the nearby huddle of busybodies.
“Dance with me,” commanded Lord Westwood, disrupting her imminent tirade.
Sam paused, her mouth half open, confused by the sudden change of subject. This man repeatedly knocked her off balance.
“Pardon me?”
“Dance with me, people are beginning to stare at us.” Without waiting for another word, Lord Westwood grasped Sam’s elbow again and dragged her among the swaying couples. Sam swore Mr. Reid winked as she passed behind Wilhelmina. Lord Westwood bowed low to her; she scowled at him.
“Your manners need some improvement,” Lord Westwood chuckled as he swept her into the dance. “We may need to work on that before I can garner you a proposal.”
Sam glared at him. “Now may I yell at you?”
Lord Westwood smiled pleasantly. “Absolutely.”