“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lady Cupps-Foster.” Haddon turned and, without another glance at Marissa, sauntered back across the ballroom.
Damned difficult desirable woman.
Trent Ives, Baron Haddon, flexed his fingers against his thighs and strode away from the only woman at this bloody ball who held his interest. He’d come tonight specifically hoping to see her, and he hadn’t been disappointed. Dancing with Marissa, holding her in his arms until the warm vanilla scent she favored filled his nostrils, was worth having to listen to the people around him prattle on about their own self-importance.
Trent looked down at Lady Christina Sykes, the daughter of a marquess who was trying to amuse him with a story about a stray dog she’d found wandering about her gardens. He kept a polite smile pasted on his face as she chattered away, all the while watching Marissa from across the room.
He loved her in blue; the color enhanced her eyes, making them sparkle like sapphires. She’d been wearing a gown of nearly the same hue when they’d danced together at the Pendleton house party.
I had no idea how one dance would change everything.
He’d known who Marissa was, of course, when he met her at Brushbriar. Everyone in the Peak District knew the tragic story of the late Earl of Morwick’s disappearance. And of his widow’s grief.
When he’d come to her rooms later that night with a bottle of wine and one glass, intent on seduction, Marissa hadn’t turned him away.
Instead I was ruined.His heart gave a thump.
An older gentleman was fawning all over Marissa, ogling her bosom, which Trent admitted was justified, especially in that gown. Trent rarely lost his composure, remaining calm even in the maelstrom of four rather high-spirited daughters. But unexpected possessiveness flared up as Trent watched her smile and place her fingers on another man’s arm.
Trent turned his attention from Marissa back to Lady Christina, who had been joined by Miss Archer, both women busy smiling up at him and batting their lashes. His body was still humming with the awareness of Marissa, her scent still clinging to his coat.
Patience.
Something else Trent was good at.
3
“Oh dear, you don’t look the least pleased,” Adelia piped up from behind Marissa, casting a glance at an elderly matron whispering to her companion with ill-concealed distaste. “And you’re quite flushed.” Adelia linked her arm with Marissa’s, walking them both away from the wall of undesirable women. “Your Lord Haddon is scrumptious.”
“He’s not a cucumber sandwich, Adelia,” Marissa snapped. “And he’s most definitely notmyLord Haddon. He’s too bloody arrogant.” Haddon had certainly made his point by depositing her amongst these women.
“Most men who look like that are, my dear. My darling young soldier is just such a man. Crooks his finger, and I can’t help but rush to his side to be entertained.” Adelia gave a small laugh.
“I shouldn’t worry. A young lady as pedigreed and gently bred as Lady Christina Sykes will likely sob and collapse into a mound of ribbons on her wedding night. I’m sure her mother has taught her toendure. If Haddon were to marry her, he’d be bored within a fortnight, if not sooner. And he’s much too delicious to be bored. I should offer him my companionship while he’s in London.”
Marissa snapped her head around. “You’ll do no such thing, Adelia.”
Adelia pursed her lips in pretend shock. “I wasonlyjoking, Marissa. My goodness, no need to be so...territorial.”
“I’m sorry. It’s only my head has begun to ache.” She placed a hand to her temple. Her head did hurt, both from the press of bodies in the Cambourne ballroom as well as from seeing and sparring with Haddon. “My apologies for my ill humor.” Marissa took Adelia’s hand. “I fear I must take my leave, Adelia.” She’d no desire to be at the ball a moment longer.
“Marissa, youcannotleave yet. The evening is young. You’ve only danced once.”
Once had been enough.
“Enderly has just arrived.” Adelia pointed with a flick of her fan to a distinguished gentleman.
Catching sight of Marissa, the older man changed course with a wave and headed toward her. Tall and fit for his age, Enderly’s form held only a touch of softness around the middle. He still had a full head of hair, though it was not the rich brown of Haddon’s but the color of new fallen snow. Enderlydidcut a dashing figure, she assured herself.
Marissa cast a sideways glance to Haddon across the ballroom.
It was like comparing an aging Persian cat to a sleek black panther.
I’m being unfair. Enderly is perfectly respectable.
Enderly, member of Parliament and wealthy mine owner from Cornwall, was perfect for Marissa. Widowed and in possession of a slew of sons and grandchildren as well as an immense country estate overlooking the ocean, he wassignificantlyolder than she. Enderly wouldneverstay up all night debauching her.
“Lady Cupps-Foster.”
