He’d struggled within himself. Part of him had wanted to smash his fist into the baron’s face, and to hell with the consequences. But within moments, the weaker part of him won out. He’d simply nodded and made his way to the refreshment table. Stephen couldn’t have felt more caught if his leg were in a bear trap.
“What does a woman have to do to gain a man’s attention?” a woman beside him said now.
“You have merely to speak,” Stephen said, turning. His easy smile faltered, and his heart jolted as recognition struck. The woman standing before him was as lovely as ever. How many times had he seen a stunning redhead—only to find out it wasn’t the woman he’d hoped to see? Earlier, when he noticed a lovely, red-haired woman across the ballroom, he’d immediately discounted the possibility it was her. He had long since stopped hoping. Yet here she was, standing before him.
“Countess Elizabeth Rivers,” he said, his voice touched with surprise. “It has been many years.”
“Stephen.” Her lips curved in a familiar smile. “It is good to see you again. You look well.”
He let out a quiet, rueful laugh and shook his head. “I beg to differ. But you… you are as lovely as the last time I saw you.”
Nearly a decade had passed since their last meeting, yet time had done little to diminish her beauty.
A delicate blush graced her cheeks. “Thank you. But time marches on for us all, does it not? We may no longer be in the first bloom of youth, but perhaps we are wiser for it.”
Wiser.Stephen inwardly scoffed at the notion. Heshouldbe wiser, but his past was littered with mistakes. Mistakes that still haunted him. His late brother had possessed a clarity of mind, an inner peace he doubted he would ever attain.
“Er… may I get you a glass of champagne?”
“I was hoping for one… but later.” She stared wistfully at the dance floor. “This is one of my favorite waltzes.”
Realizing she wanted to dance, Stephen lit up. Elizabeth Rivers had been Lady Elizabeth Harrogate, a lovely and charming debutante in her first Season that Stephen had set out to court, only to lose her to Earl Rivers, due to a betrothal her father had made. She was still lovely and charming. If hewere playing cards, he would have thought he’d found the ace of spades.
He held his arm out, and she took it. “Please allow me this dance,” he said, forgetting about the drink he had needed only a minute or so before.
“I’d love to, Lord Bridgewater,” she said, wearing a brilliant smile.
Stephen led her onto the dance floor, feeling more alive than he had in years. Her touch was almost ethereal, it was so light. And holding her throughout the waltz had him wondering if he was dreaming. Could he possibly believe in second chances?
~*~
William had sensed Bella’s arrival even before the baron’s butler announced the Bridgewater family. He’d turned, watching as she descended the stairs, her presence as familiar as it was captivating. From the moment he had met her—well, saved her from tumbling off the cliff’s edge—she had occupied his thoughts. And in the days since, she had only deepened his fascination.
Yet he had tried to resist admitting what was now undeniable—he was utterly captivated by Lady Bella Connolly.
So, it was little wonder his temper had flared when he saw the baron making his way toward them, his gaze fixed on Bella like he were a wolf eyeing its prey.
“Good evening, baron,” William had said as the baron approached.
“Viscount Dudley,” the baron had returned in a brusque tone as he brushed by him, weaving through the throng of guests in his quest to get to the Bridgewater family. He’d seemed most determined to welcome them, pushing past other guests who were higher in status. William thought it odd at first, consideringwhat he’d learned of the baron’s desire to be accepted by the upper echelons of Society. He also noted that Bella’s uncle had seemed… what?Cowedcame to mind.At the time, Williamhad been determined not to allow anything to mar his dance with Bella.
Then, when William had heard the man complain about Bella’s dance card, it struck a possessive chord, spurring him to reach her side and whisk her away.
The exchange with the Earl of Bridgewater had been terse—and William had tucked his observation away to mull over later. Something about the two men didn’t add up, he thought.
Returning Bella to her grandmothers, he decided that if the next two dances weren’t too strenuous for the elderly ladies, he’d ask them each to participate.
“I enjoyed our dance, Bella,” he said. “May I get you some refreshment?”
“Perhaps later. I see the baron crossing the room, and he signed up for the next dance,” she said. She smiled at William, but her eyes took on an anxious cast as she mentioned the baron having the next dance. “Although I look forward to our next waltz.”
“As do I,” he said, giving her hand a slight squeeze before depositing her next to Viscountess Harrington.
“My lady.” The baron’s slick voice oozed as he cut in front of William and claimed Bella’s hand in a possessive grip. His fingers tightened just enough to make her flinch. “I believe this dance is mine.” His cold black eyes flicked to William—just a brief, dismissive glance—before he turned his full attention back to Bella.
She hesitated, her fingers stiff in the baron’s grasp, but with a carefully measured smile, she dipped her head and took his arm. Her movements were smooth, practiced, yet there was ashadow of reluctance in her gaze as they stepped onto the dance floor.
William exhaled slowly, forcing his fingers to unclench at his sides. The desire to rip Bella from the baron’s grip burned hot in his chest, but he buried it beneath a mask of calm. Instead, he turned to her grandmothers with a courteous bow, schooling his expression into something lighter. “Would one of you lovely ladies care to dance?”
