“Lady Greywick.” Samantha gave a welcoming smile.
“Ah, Lady Kilpatrick, a pleasure to see you again.” She glanced to her husband, a secretive smile on her lovely face as she looked at the man beside her.
“Ah, Lady Kilpatrick.” Lord Greywick gave a knowing grin. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of calling you by your married name.” He arched his brows meaningfully.
Grace decided that there was more to the story of their acquaintance than she had previously thought.
“Yes, and it’s a delight to hear you say it.”
“I would think so,” he replied. “And this must be your husband’s ward?” He turned to Grace with a charming smile.
“Indeed. Please allow me to introduce Miss Grace.” Samantha released Grace’s hand so that she could curtsey.
Grace smiled as she stood from the formality. “A pleasure, Lord Greywick. We are deeply indebted to you and your lovely wife for the vouchers, thank you.”
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “It was merely convenient for us to obtain them; you didn’t need our help. Not with your connections.” He gave a smile to Samantha. “But we were happy to be of service.”
The conversation continued, and Grace tried to keep invested in it, but her eyes continued to wander, searching for one man.
The music ended for the cotillion, and a reel began to play. It was then that a shiver ran down her back and she caught her breath, a smile teasing her lips as she turned.
How was it that she knew? Was she already so aware of him to realize his presence before she even saw him? Was that love? It was devilishly good whatever it was, and she couldn’t help but widen her grin when she met his familiar gaze.
“Good evening,” he said, but his expression conveyed so much more than just a mere greeting. His gaze was warm, consuming, and made her feverish.
“Good evening,” she returned, biting her lip as he took her hand to kiss it. He lingered in the welcoming kiss, then slowly released her. “Dare I hope you’re pleased to see me?”
Grace’s face flushed with heat as she tried to remain composed. “You’re free to think whatever you wish. I, however, am free to conceal my reactions if I please,” she teased, flirting.
“A woman who knows her mind—what a pleasure to discover so rare a creature.”
“Sir! I cry foul. How dare you be so harsh on my sex. We ladies are not so easily lumped into one category,” she countered with a smile.
“You simply outshine them all.” He bowed graciously, as if apologizing.
“Such flattery.” She glanced up, then returned his affectionate gaze. “I’m rather fond of it.”
“I am well versed in finding ways to flatter, my lady. It turns out you make it simple,” he returned.
An arm grasped hers, and she turned, expecting to find Samantha, only the arm she grasped was that of the viscount. “Westhouse,” he greeted soberly.
“Kilpatrick,” Westhouse offered with more than necessary graciousness in his tone.
Grace was proud of such humility in his expression, and turned to the viscount, curious as if such a display could touch his heart concerning his ideas on Lord Westhouse’s merit.
The viscount’s expression remained unchanged. “If you’ll excuse us.” The viscount returned, beginning to lead Grace away when Lord Westhouse stepped forward. “Would it be too bold to request the next dance from Miss Grace, that is, if she is not already engaged for it?” he asked the viscount, his expression openness and kindness itself.
Grace’s heart melted a bit more. It was one thing to be kind to someone who returned the kindness, but for Westhouse to continue to be graciousness itself to the viscount when he was so stoic and cold in his replies, that was truly well bred of Lord Westhouse. It spoke of his character, and she adored him for it.
“Of course,” the viscount replied after a few moments. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Lord Westhouse bowed, then gave a quick wink to Grace before stepping aside to allow them more room to pass by.
She held her head high as she navigated the ballroom beside the viscount. His demeanor was kind and friendly to everyone else he greeted. How was it that he was so utterly unable to spare such equanimity on Lord Westhouse? It was irritating. He released his hold and offered his arm to Samantha as they came up beside her as she spoke with another acquaintance. When had Samantha left the conversation with Lord and Lady Greywick? Her quick mind put the puzzle pieces together and she was tempted to give Samantha a disbelieving stare. As soon as Lord Westhouse approached, Samantha must have excused herself to find the viscount! That’s how he found her so quickly and whisked her away! It was quite efficient, even if it was frustrating. The music shifted, and her heart picked up his cadence. Forgotten was the meddling of her beloved guardians, and all that remained in her mind was the glorious expectation of a dance with Lord Westhouse.
She turned and watched him approach, appreciating the fine figure he cut in his dark evening kit, and offered her most engaging smile—or so she hoped. He bowed smartly when he arrived and took her hand with the utmost tenderness, and led her to the dance floor. She could almost feel the tension in the viscount, but she disregarded it immediately, focused on only the pleasure ahead that was sure to come when dancing with a promising suitor.
The fast-paced dance didn’t offer much opportunity for conversation, but it was fascinating how much a mere glance, a simple look could convey without any words. Lord Westhouse’s gaze was warm, appreciative, and made her heart feel light. Far too soon the dance ended, and as he led her from the dance floor, he circled in the opposite direction from where they entered.
