Chapter Nineteen
When Grace had lived in India, there was a house on the corner that had a beautiful front garden. In the lush garden was a small flock of peacocks. The females were lovely, but nowhere near the magnificence of the males with their long feathery tails that would spread wide to display their colors. The males would strut about the lawn, showing off to all who would take a moment to watch. They were proud of their feathers, and would often fight other males to show dominance.
As the dance ended with Lord Westhouse and he led her back to her guardian, she had the same sensation from long ago when watching the male peacocks.
Lord Westhouse’s shoulders were broad and straight, his chest slightly puffed up as he all but strutted with her at his side to where the viscount and Lord Sterling waited.
The viscount didn’t appear as combative as Lord Sterling. Rather than puff his chest up like Lord Westhouse, Lord Sterling’s height made him tower over them all, as if a king surveying his subjects. It was a different display, but just as evident.
At once she decided that peacocks were overrated. All this display, for what? What was the prize? Her? Unlikely. It was about ego, attitude, and dominance. With a beleaguered sigh, she stepped from Lord Westhouse at the earliest opportunity and stood by Samantha, mentioning the need for some lemonade.
Let thempeacockfor each other;shehad no use for it.
But at least one good thing came from the whole mess with Lord Westhouse and the viscount. She would finally learn what the viscount did when he left the residence for the evening. The mystery had been eating her alive, and with everyone so close-lipped about it, it nearly drove her mad! What delicious secret was she finally ferreting out? It was heady to know that she’d finally learn what had been concealed for so long. She was, however, loathe to give up any further dancing opportunities with Lord Westhouse, but she also saw the wisdom of her guardian’s request. There was, after all, no reason to cause talk. And truth be told, she was rather put out with Lord Westhouse’s behavior when he’d stormed off from Lord Sterling’s intrusion.
And she was rather frustrated with Lord Sterling as well! Who kissed a woman like that and then didn’t call on her? Or at least request a dance? It was irritating to say the least, and at first opportunity she was going to give him a piece of her mind.
Thankfully her mind was working quite well now that the fog of confusion, and—dare she say it?—pleasure, had finally dissipated. Now, all that remained was anger.
And if she were honest, a little bit of a wound to her pride.
Had she not kissed well? Was she somehow wanting in some area? No doubt he had scads more experience than she, but . . . well, she wanted a kiss to mean something! Was that too much to ask? Her first kiss, no less!
Her opportunity to give that piece of her mind to Lord Sterling came about far quicker than she was expecting.
When they returned to their party, Lord Westhouse had departed and as the first bars of the waltz music were played, Lord Sterling offered his hand. “Would you honor me with the pleasure?”
She almost said no.
Then remembered all that she had to say.
Perhaps she needed more than one dance to speak it all. So, she accepted and bit back a satisfied grin when she stepped on his toe the very first turn.
Served him right.
“Could you have been more condescending?” she asked from the gate, earning a startled and then mutinous expression from her dance partner.
“Pardon?”
“Your expressions are clear as day, Lord Sterling. You think yourself above Lord Westhouse—”
“I am, in rank and in every other possible way,” he interrupted in an irritated manner.
She sighed, “Be that as it may, regarding rank that is, but there is no need to parade about and look down upon the rest of humanity as if they were below you.”
His expression was offended, his lips drawn into a thin line. “How so?”
She bit her lip as the fleeting picture of a peacock flitted through her mind again. “You were—honestly, you both were strutting about like peacocks. It was amusing as much as it was irritating. Tell me, what color are your feathers if you’re so interested in displaying them?” she teased, unable to keep her anger in full force. She was far too amused by the bewildered and stunned expression on his face.
“Peacocks?” he repeated.
“Yes.” She nodded once and he turned her.
His brows drew together and he looked as if he wished to say something but still hadn’t pulled together an appropriate reply to such an odd statement.
“I do believe I have renderedyouspeechless.” She turned the tables, remembering when he had mentioned the same to her. It didn’t matter that such a bold statement alluded directly to their kiss; she had much to say onthattopic as well!
He narrowed his eyes as his lips pursed as if trying to suppress a twinge of a smile. Grace had to wonder, how often did he actually release his tension and grin without constraint? All at once she wanted to provoke that type of grin, to draw it from him. It was a challenge, with a worthy prize.
