Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(15)

Anthony began to pace. “Allow me to help.” He cleared his throat and took a stance in front of Colin. “Your hair is like a cloud.”

“A cloud?” Colin interrupted.

“Have patience. I’m not finished,” Anthony ground out. “Your hair is a cloud, dripping with rain. Oh, if I were grass that I could drink up the water. You would soothe my soul and make me… smile.”

“It does not even rhyme!” Colin shouted.

“Poetry does not have to rhyme,” Anthony argued.

“So you are a regular Byron now? Is it only a matter of time before I see you give a reading?”

“Of course. I’ve been thinking a great deal about my future in… poetry.” Anthony coughed.

Colin opened his mouth to speak, but Anthony jerked his head toward the door and disappeared into the shadows.

“Ah, Lady Priscilla, a great pleasure.” Colin took the offered champagne and clinked his glass with hers.

She gave a throaty laugh and sidled closer to him. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, Sir Wilde.” Closing the distance between them, she leaned up on her toes and rested against his chest.

“As have I.” He took a soothing drink of the sparkling substance and set his face in his best smoldering rakish grin. “You remind me of Lady Hawthorne, so regal and beautiful.”

“Lady Hawthorne?” Lady Priscilla repeated. Her face dropped into a frown and she rocked back on her heels. “Whyever would I remind you of that — that terrible woman! She is a nothing more than a… She stole Lord Hawthorne right out of my hands!” Lady Priscilla began to pace in front of him, then turned and poked Colin in the chest. “She stole everything I’d worked so hard to gain in that man! Eight months of fawning over him, and he drops me like a common, a common…”

“Hoyden,” came a voice from beyond the balcony.

Lady Priscilla’s head seemed to turn completely around and then finally face Colin again. Panicking, he did the only thing he could think of doing; he began reciting Anthony’s poem. “You remind me of clouds.” Cringing, he struggled to remember the rest of the poem.

“Clouds?” Her voice wavered on the brink of insanity.

“Yes, how they soak up the rain.” Did clouds soak up rain?

“So now I am fat?”

“No, no, no, no!” Colin laughed. Terrible time to suddenly find the woman amusing.

Lady Priscilla’s eyebrows furrowed as she scowled and looked away.

Colin cleared his throat and tried to salvage what was left of the poem. “It is just that your very face reminds me of…” What was the rest of the poem again?

“An ostrich,” came a harsh whisper beneath the balcony. “Favorite animal.”

“Ostrich!” Colin blurted.

Her eyes widened and she looked as though she was considering the best way to murder him. This was a nightmare.

“Oh, devil take it. What I am trying to say is, you are beautiful.”

Softening, just slightly, Lady Priscilla batted her eyelashes and ran her fingers up and down Colin’s arms. “And you are so handsome and strong. Let us find a place where we can talk… privately.”

“Chocolate, the chocolate,” Anthony mumbled beneath the balcony. Colin reached behind him and Anthony shoved a chocolate truffle into his hand. Must have stolen it from the dessert tables.

Colin grinned. Chocolate could cover a multitude of sins. “But first, my lady, a gift. Close your eyes.”

“I love surprises.” Her lids fluttered closed and a seductive smile curved her lips.

“Open your mouth.”

She purred. The woman actually purred as her lips parted. Colin placed just a bit of the truffle into her mouth and waited for it to work its magic.

Lady Priscilla closed her mouth. “This is…” Horror washed over her features, and her eyes shot open. “Tell me that is not chocolate!”

“Of course! Chocolate is a rare…” Colin glanced frantically around him and cursed. “Delicacy.”

“It makes me ill!” Lady Priscilla’s lips began to swell. She leaned over the balcony and spit out the chocolate and cursed. With a final stomp of her foot she slapped Colin across the face and stormed away. Unfortunately, the balcony doors had just swung open, making it possible for the exchange to be witnessed by a few observant bystanders. The whispering began, and although Colin wanted the reputation of a rake, he wasn’t about to face the gossip about what had just taken place on the balcony.

Quickly, he ran down the stairs and hid underneath the balcony. He glared pointedly at Anthony, who was wiping what looked like the remnants of a chocolate mist from his face.

“Chocolate? Poetry? Comparing her to Lady Hawthorne? I get the distinct feeling you are trying to sabotage me.”

Anthony cursed and his face appeared to be the color of ash. “Sabotage? If you believe that, my friend, perhaps you should ask Ambrose for help. Or the infamous Sir Bryan! I am wounded to the heart, Wilde. To the soul!” He was protesting far too much, and the way he refused to meet Colin’s gaze was cause for some alarm. “Listen, Wilde, I am married now. It might be that I am out of…”

“Intelligence,” Colin ground out. “As well as your common sense! You cannot simply whisper what I should say to the woman while I am trying to seduce her!”