The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(64)
Particularly since the woman he loved now seemed further from reach than ever.
*
“I do not think I can bear to see him touch you any longer.”
Those words, low and harsh, nearly made her swoon with desire. Alice was standing at the refreshment table, about to pour herself some lemonade, when Henderson came up behind her and whispered in her ear, causing her entire body to heat. She paused, then continued to pour, aware her hands were now shaking just slightly.
Turning, schooling her features so no one would see the desire in her gaze, she mentally prepared herself to greet him coolly. But when she saw him, Alice had to use every ounce of will to hide her feelings. He was just that stunning.
“Good evening, Miss Hubbard,” he said. Henderson was a handsome man, tall and lean, but she couldn’t recall seeing him in formal wear. Freshly shaved, hair trimmed, clothes tailored to precision, he looked like a member of the aristocracy. Only his grin ruined, or rather improved, the effect.
She was suddenly, fiercely glad that Henderson had been invited to the ball, even though his presence caused her all kinds of anxiety.
“You are looking rather dapper this evening, Mr. Southwell,” she said, just a tad more breathy than usual.
Henderson looked down at himself as if he were unaware what a striking figure he cut. “I have Lord Berkley’s valet to thank. The man turned a sow’s ear into a silk purse. Or in this case, a silk cravat.”
“Quite dashing.”
“And you, Miss Hubbard, are lovely as well.” His warm gaze looked her up and down, making Alice feel more beautiful than she had ever felt. “Where is my nemesis? The last I saw him, he was hovering around you like a bee to a flower.”
Alice pressed her lips together to stop from laughing. “He is dancing with Eliza,” she said, nodding toward the dance floor. “He really is such a charming man.” An odd sound erupted from Henderson and Alice this time could not suppress her laughter. “Did you growl?”
“I don’t believe you understand the state I am in, Alice. I need to touch you. Now.”
Her eyes widened slightly and she could feel her body react shamefully to his pronouncement. She didn’t know what had come over her ever since that one foolish, wonderful night. It was supposed to have been one night, a good-bye, a way to live the rest of her life without regrets. Henderson was not supposed to still be here, tunneling into her heart relentlessly, saying outrageous things that made her entire body heat. “Henny, that is hardly a proper thing to say.” She desperately wanted to seek equilibrium and trying for some sort of decorum was the only way she knew to do it.
“And I am hardly proper.” He looked about, making certain they could not be overheard. “I should have thrown you from my room. If I had, I wouldn’t know what lies beneath that gown. I would not spend every night aching for you, every minute of the day wanting you. I swear by all that’s holy, you will be mine, Alice. I cannot allow something as inconsequential as my birth to keep you from me.”
She swallowed and looked away, unable to witness the anguish in his face. The impact of what he was saying swirled around her; it was heady stuff but it also filled her with trepidation. This was no game to Henderson; he meant every word he said and Alice was suddenly uncertain what to do with such knowledge. He stood before her, declaring his love for her. There was no glint of humor in his gaze as there had been on their walk in the garden. Instead, she saw pain and desperation. And love. Biting her lip, she scanned the ballroom for her mother and father, and was shocked to see them both looking at the two of them, concern in their eyes.
“My parents have been watching us, Henderson.”
“I hardly care.”
“But I do, and I know you do too. You cannot come up to me in the middle of a ball, with my fiancé”—at his sharp intake of breath, she held up a supplicating hand—“the man I was planning to marry, in the very same room. Henderson, you cannot.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. Between Lord Northrup, her parents pushing her toward Lord Berkley, who had absolutely no interest in her, and Henderson, who was standing in front of her declaring himself to her, she had never been so entirely confused in her life.
“I cannot? But I have. I love you and I intend to marry you and I intend to prove to your father that I am worthy of you.” His expression suddenly changed, growing hard and almost unrecognizable. “Unless you do not want me to. My God,” he said, letting out a humorless laugh. “It never occurred to me that you were simply humoring me. That you, like everyone else, only pitied me.”
“My dear, our dance.” Lord Northrup turned toward Henderson and extended his hand, and Alice wrenched her gaze away from him. “So good you could come, Mr. Southwell. Formal wear suits you.”
To Alice’s burning ears, Lord Northrup sounded incredibly patronizing, even though she suspected he was simply being kind.
“Of course, my lord,” Alice said, extending her hand and acutely aware Henderson likely wanted to wrench her away from Northrup. “And Henderson. You could not be more wrong, and I intend to prove that to you.” She smiled at him, praying he understood completely what she meant. By the sudden light in his beautiful eyes, she realized he did and the relief she felt, that she hadn’t hurt him, was profound.
As she whirled around the dance floor with the man everyone in the room assumed she would marry, Alice could only think of Henderson. Her heart, so heavy not long ago, felt as if it would lift her to the ceiling. I love him. I really do.