Waltzing with the Wallflower(11)

Preposterous! He hadn’t been jealous of his brother, not once in his life! He shook his head but found he couldn’t keep his gaze from raking the couple on the dance floor. She was exquisite. The blue gown draped across her curves quite nicely and Ambrose found when she smiled, the small dimple that appeared made his heart slam into his chest. Peculiar, that dimple, as if it was meant to tease or taunt, for both times when it made its presence known he felt somewhat enraptured with touching it, or kissing it.

He took a steadying breath. He really had no one to blame but himself. It seemed Cordelia had the correct idea in hiding her beauty behind the plants, for now that she was out in the open it was if a star was shining in Almack’s, a star named Cordelia. Her wavy blonde hair was quite the thing, tousled into a loose chignon. Several pieces of her hair naturally fell on the curve of her neck and he found himself again staring.

Just then Anthony said something else to the lady and she laughed. The sound piercing the assembly hall, drawing the attention he knew she despised, but instead of cowering she merely lowered her head and continued to smile.

Waves of possessiveness washed over him as his breathing increased, when was the blasted dance to end? For it had to be the longest dance of the night!

“Hawthorne? I’ve been looking for you, my lord.” Lady Levien stepped directly in front of his line of sight. In a moment of panic, he almost asked to be excused but knew better than to say anything of the sort to a patroness.

“How may I be of service?” He inclined his head but kept a trained eye on the couple.

“I mean to ask after Lady Cordelia. She is exquisite, is she not?” At this Lady Levien turned to glance at the couple and let out a feminine sigh. “Terrible what happened to her family. I cannot imagine forcing my own child into servanthood to cover a debt. It truly is a Cinderella story, don’t you think, my lord?”

“Surely,” he answered, though he wasn’t sure what a wallflower and Cinderella had in common.

“To think,” the lady continued, “all that time making dresses for the wealthy society of France, to never have her own debut or go to a ball until now. I commend you, Hawthorne. If anyone deserves to be the toast, it is she.”

Before he had a chance to speak or close his gaping mouth for that matter, the lady continued. “I’ve also done my part, as you can see.” She nodded towards the other patronesses and noticed Lady Trowbridge talking with them looking as if she would explode with excitement in that very instant. “I hope you do not mind, dear.”

“Not in the least.” He smiled and then glanced to see the end of the dance where Anthony bowed over Cordelia’s hand and kissed the air above her delicate fingers.

“I take it you are not courting the girl?”

Blast, the woman was still talking. Could she not see he had serious business to attend to? Business matters including a girl with curly hair and a dimple, business of tasting and touching and…

“Lord Hawthorne?”

“I apologize. You were asking about my intentions towards the girl?”

She nodded her head, an amused expression across her face.

“Well, I—” He took a deep breath. “That is, we are just acquaintances. Very good acquaintances.” He grinned.

Lady Levien’s eyes narrowed into a suspicious expression.

“Do not misunderstand me, my lady. I meant merely that we are friends, nothing more. I would love for her to find someone to share her life with. Her happiness is my only intention.”

Lady Levien’s demeanor relaxed immediately, and she held up her hand. He kissed it as she curtsied and left to rejoin the other patronesses. It was in that moment that Ambrose realized he was sweating. His need was such that only Cordelia could lift him out of his current state of puzzlement.

Greedily, he searched for her only to find Wilde asking her permission to dance. Curse his friends and family!

He marched over to the couple just in time to be pulled back by the strong arms of his brother.

“Ambrose? You look as though you mean to start a fight.”

“Never,” Ambrose answered, chest heaving.

“Say, this wouldn’t be about Cordelia, would it? I find she is delightful, quite beautiful, in fact. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ambrose watched longingly as Wilde and Cordelia began a reel, and he winced as she smiled at Wilde.

“Yes.” Ambrose’s tone sounded dry, indifferent, possibly even a trifle cold. But on the inside, he was burning.

“She’s quite a witty little thing once you get her started,” Anthony said, lifting his eyebrow in his brother’s direction. “But I daresay you’ve already discovered the jewel that is her personality, haven’t you?”

Ambrose bit his lip in frustration and turned to face his brother head on. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing at all.” Anthony lifted his hands in surrender. “Merely speculating.”

“Care to speculate elsewhere?” Ambrose offered curtly.

Anthony laughed. “Dear brother, it is a bet. Perhaps you would do well to remember that? After all, she could make a brilliant match this Season, just look at how much appreciation she is already gaining from the gentlemen?”

Ambrose told himself not to look, that by looking he was allowing his brother to again control him and make him even more jealous than he already was. The trouble, it seemed, with being twins, was that his brother knew him too well. Merely by standing near him, Ambrose guessed Anthony knew exactly what un-holy thoughts were going through his mind.