Chapter 9
The ballroom sparkled beneath the light of hundreds of candles. Boughs of holly, evergreen, and bright paper flowers hung about the space, while the quartet played a mixture of Christmas carols and popular dance music. Daphne should be enjoying the festivities, dancing, laughing, and flirting, but all she seemed capable of doing was mooning over Marcus.
She’d never expected that their kiss would hold any meaning for him, but neither had she believed it would hold so much for her. The truth was he’d stolen her heart as surely as she’d stolen his kiss. True she hadn’t accosted him, but she’d still been the one to initiate the kiss not through action but certainly through words.
After all, she’d asked him to do it. Reminded him of their long-ago deal. Invited him to take her lips with his. What a fool she was to think she could kiss him then walk away as though nothing had transpired between them.
Worse yet; all of her actions had been for nothing. The kiss they shared wouldn’t do her any good for she’d never wish to marry anyone other than him. And the incorrigible rogue would never offer for her. Of that she was certain. For heaven’s sake, she’d all but told him she was in love with him and he’d simply bid her goodnight.
Daphne sighed, flipped open her fan. She sought Marcus out for the millionth time since entering the ballroom. He did not seem to be having any more fun than she was. Every time her eyes caught his, her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze to the polished floor. But when he did not notice ogling him, she took the opportunity to drink him in, committing every inch of him to memory.
Marcus had spent most of the evening alone. His mouth turned down and a deep frown line creasing his forehead. The few times she'd witnessed him speaking with someone, the conversations had ended quickly. She'd also noticed how he kept pulling a flask from his coat. Perhaps he was in as foul a mood as she. But why?
“Drink this.” Natalie handed her a flute of champagne.
Daphne accepted the offer, tipping the glass to her lips. The sweet bubbly liquor tickled her tongue and warmed her chest. She swallowed then offered a weak smile. “Thank you.”
Natalie bobbed her head, her dark curls flouncing around her temples. “Finish it.”
Daphne did as her cousin bid, drinking the champagne until nothing remained in her flute.
“Now come along. We’ve dance partners.” Natalie waved her fan toward the mass of guests crowding the space.
Daphne nodded a small bubble of excitement welling within her. She stood, perhaps a little to fast as the room seemed to tilt then right itself. She wasn’t accustomed to drinking alcohol and therefore wholly unprepared for the pleasant effect it seemed to be having on her. Nonetheless, she would embrace the euphoria and enjoy the evening.
In what seemed an instant Daphne was sweet onto the dance floor with by Lord St. Vella. He deposited her at the head of the line then took his place. Beside her, Natalie stood with her father across from her. The quartet struck the first cords of a reel and Daphne came forward to curtsey to Lord St. Villa.
She smiled broadly to the point her cheeks began to hurt as he led her through the dance. All thought fled her mind. The music acted as a salve for her wounded heart and by the time he led her down the line, she was giggling with joy.
Natalie offered a broad grin of her own when the two crossed paths to twirl with one another partners. Daphne took her uncle’s elbow with enthusiasm and tipped her head back a fraction as he spun her around. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had such fun—experienced such abandon.
“Thank you.” Daphne curtsied to Lord St. Vella. “I cannot recall the last time I enjoyed a dance so thoroughly.”
“It was my pleasure.” He bowed to her before offering his arm to her. Together with Natalie and her father, The Duke of Sheridan, they exited the dance floor.
Daphne’s attention snagged on Marcus. He stood stoically by the edge of the polished dance floor. His stark white cravat contrasted his unruly midnight locks and his brilliant blue gaze shone brighter than all of the candles in the room. A pang of longing struck her core.
Did he mean to dance? Her heart tugged at the thought of him with another woman. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, then returned her attention to Natalie. Whatever Marcus did was none of her concern. “I’m parched. Let us get another flute of champagne.”
Natalie waved her fan before her flushed face. “What a splendid idea.”
“The two of you go ahead. I am going to stay with the duke.” Lord St. Vella nodded as she and Natalie released his arms.
"I won't be overlong, my love," Natalie said.
Daphne wove in and out through the crowd and around potted evergreens. The effects of her first glass had all but worn off and she found herself desperate to regain the carefree attitude she’d had. Reaching the refreshment table, she plucked to flutes form a silver tray and handed one to Natalie.
“You ladies are a vision.” Mr. Ashe sidled up to them, lifting a champagne flute from the table.
“How you flatter us.” Natalie batted her lashes.
Daphne’s cheeks warmed with familiar heat as she gave him a smile. “Thank you.”
He grinned at her revealing straight pearly teeth. “May I have this dance, My Lady?”
Natalie nudged Daphne when she failed to reply. “Yes. Yes of course,” Daphne stammered over the words.
Mr. Ashe offered his arm but before Daphne accepted it, she tipped the flute to her lips and drained its contents. It was not that she objected to dancing with Mr. Ashe, but rather that Marcus would likely be watching. Given what occurred the last time she found herself in Mr. Ashe’s company the idea left her a bit unsettled.
