Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(5)

Hawke had become unbearable over the past few months. As though he had nothing better to do in life than find his poor ruined sister a suitable prospective mate.

Fortunately, as dance partners went, Mr. Everett was exceptional. It was a quadrille, and the movement of the dance offered Gemma a grand view of the ballroom. Since she did not have to worry about her feet being unduly trampled, she had adequate time to search the room. If Sir Wilde was there, she would see him.

Gemma had written him letters, explaining why she had left Town, but he hadn’t once replied. If only she could speak with him for a moment, she was certain she could clear the air, and eventually her parents would acquiesce. Wilde was well-connected and not wholly untitled. And she loved him. Surely they would see that.

“Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but you seem preoccupied. Are you troubled?” Mr. Everett asked. Concern marked his clear blue eyes as he escorted her off the floor.

“I apologize, Mr. Everett.” Embarrassment burned in her cheeks.

“It’s quite all right, Lady Gemma. It’s not the first time a lovely lady was woolgathering in my presence. I have that effect on many. I fear my dancing leaves something to be desired.”

“Not at all, sir. You are a remarkable partner.”

A wry grin creased his lips. “Perhaps simply stunned to silence by my rugged good looks, then?”

Gemma regarded him a moment. He was handsome. With his thick brown hair and eyes the color of bachelor’s buttons, he was nothing to sneeze at. She hadn’t noticed before, not that it mattered a whit. Her heart belonged to Colin Wilde.

When she didn’t answer right away, Everett shifted his weight to his other foot and glanced over her shoulder toward the dance floor. “Your silence is most reassuring.”

“Oh dear, I do apologize, Mr. Everett.” The shame burned her ears.

“Not to worry, my lady. Fortunately, my ego is nothing if not resilient. I shall simply bid you adieu, return to the corner, and lick my wounds. Before you know it, I’ll be dancing again with another young lady, equally as affected by my charms no doubt.”

A glint of humor danced in his eyes as he smiled and bowed over her hand to plant a chaste kiss on her glove. Then he deposited her neatly with her brother and made his way to the refreshment table.

“That seemed to go well,” Hawke said, nodding after the retreating Everett.

Gemma struggled to keep from rolling her eyes at him. “I believe I’ll see myself to the ladies’ lounge.”

“Yourself? No, I think not. I shall escort you.”

“Truly? To the ladies’ lounge, my lord?”

It was her brother’s turn to blush crimson. “I beg your pardon, sister. I meant only to see you safely to the door.”

Gemma was relatively certain she could make it the twenty steps unmolested. She shook her head to show her disdain, then glanced toward the door to the corridor and froze.

Colin.

****



Colin eagerly scanned the room. He needed an escape. Actually he needed several escapes. If he went back into Hades, what normal blokes would call the library, he would have to deal with his two well-meaning friends. And he wasn’t altogether sure he could speak without blubbering like an idiot or shooting someone.

His days were predictable like that. He was either so depressingly morose that he wanted to jump out of his window, or anger clouded his thoughts and vision so much that he was unable to think straight, let alone make sound decisions.

The only way out was in. Straight into the lion’s den, also known as the ton. He lifted his eyes heavenward, shrugged his shoulders, and took a deep breath.

Only the breath stayed in his body when it should have been expelled, for the minute his eyes focused on the woman across the room, he was unable to do anything but stare. He could feel his body tense as heat made its way through him until he thought he might explode.

Gemma.

Slowly, he exhaled, and then of course, he did something stupid.

With a sneer, Colin tilted his head in her direction, promptly pulled the first woman he saw to him, and patted her bottom.

Lucky for him, it was the Widow Darlington, a lady who had already made known her desire for an assignation.

Guilt gnawed at his insides as he watched Gemma’s face fall. Was that a tear? She pushed through the crowds and disappeared.

Lady Darlington giggled next to him. “My dear boy, was that an invitation?”

Colin straightened and gave her a cool glare. “Not at all. It was merely a test to see if the goods were as worthwhile as you boasted.”

“And?” She purred.

“I find you lacking.” He smirked and walked off, wanting very much to trip on his own feet and knock himself out so he wouldn’t have to look at himself in the mirror in the morning.

He was living in a pit of his own making, and he had no clue how to get out of it. And rather than try to climb out of the dark hole he daily found himself in, he decided the only way out was to dig deeper.

So he’d read Anthony’s journal and dug.

He dug until his fingers bled.

And all he had to show for it was more darkness and more emptiness. Then again, what did one expect when they were digging holes?

With a curse, he walked in the direction where Gemma had disappeared. The last thing he wanted to do was apologize, but he could not go on with the rest of the Season and pretend their history did not exist. Closure. He needed closure, and the only way he knew how to achieve that was to have the final laugh, the end scene.