While Ramsey wasn’t proud of his lack of self-control, he also knew that his nature was far more honorable than that of Lord Westhouse. If Miss Grace had to be at one of their mercies, it would be his.
But Ramsey was resolved to be distant, aloof, and above temptation. So it was with a false sense of security he attended the party that evening.
He tugged on his shirt cuffs, straightening his shoulders and tipping his chin up ever so slightly as he walked into the already well-attended ballroom. The music filtered through the air, muted by the buzzing of a hundred conversations while footmen wound around people offering refreshment. He’d seen it all a thousand times, and it had never taken on any shine in his opinion. It was a mystery why so many people lived for these events, when he’d rather avoid them all together.
A lady caught his eye, her fan slowly moving in front of her face as she gave the signal for him to come closer.
He walked in the other direction.
That was another thing he’d never understand. Why flirt with a fan? Bloody useless if you asked him. No. He was on a mission. Find Heathcliff, locate Westhouse, keep Miss Grace occupied for a waltz, then leave.
It sounded simple.
But, seeing as it involved Miss Grace, he had the nagging suspicion it wouldn’t be as easily executed as it sounded.
She was a menace in every sense of the word, especially to his peace of mind. He’d tried in vain to force all thoughts of their kiss to the furthest reaches of his mind. But the memories always flooded back.
It was one bloody kiss.
It shouldn’t have meant anything.
It shouldn’t have affected him so.
Yet, it did.
Which was why it had him so concerned. It didn’t make sense. And he couldn’t abide things that stood against reason.
Irritated, he turned and scanned the room for Heathcliff once more, his gaze meeting that of a pair of startling green eyes.
She was not more than a few yards away, close enough for him to see the small arch of her brow as she studied him, unabashedly.
There was nothing coy about her.
Nothing flirtatious.
Just brazen, bold, and beautiful.
His heart started to pound harder, deeper, as if it were performing in a race.
All his grand deceptions about his immovability emotionally came crashing down, and Ramsey was forced to reconcile himself with the truth.
He was in trouble.
And once again, it defied reason.
He should turn and quit the room.
He should hightail it back to his study at Temptations.
Instead, he put one foot in front of the other, meeting her inquiring gaze.
She tipped her head, as if curious as to his intentions. It was an honest question, one he didn’t have an honest answer to. He wasn’t sure about anything at the moment, except that he would be damned if Westhouse connived his way into her life.
Not without a fight.
A swift movement caught his gaze and he flickered his gaze away from Miss Grace to watching the swiftly approaching figure of Lord Westhouse.
Apparently, the fight was about to happen sooner rather than later.
