He held out his elbow again and she took it, then let him draw her from the ballroom and out into the cool night air.
Chapter Four
There was one abiding emotion that Graham felt as he escorted Lady Adelaide onto the veranda, and that was utter confusion. Here he had spent the past twenty-four hours ruminating and fantasizing about Lydia Ford. Now he found himself intrigued by this bespectacled wallflower who could not be more different from the confident, sensual actress.
Apparently once he had refilled the well of his desire, it was now overflowing and no woman was safe.
As if she sensed his thoughts, Adelaide edged toward the terrace wall, into the shadows and away from the brighter lights of the house. Almost like she was hiding from him. But why wouldn’t she? He knew how he had behaved during their dance.
Howshehad acted was much more surprising.
“You know I am a friend of Emma,” she said. “Er, the Duchess of Abernathe.”
Graham hesitated. In truth, he had not remembered that detail. He had very rarely thought of the wallflowers at all in the years gone by. Emma hadn’t even appeared in his line of sight until she and James began to circle each other. But Graham liked the new duchess, strange and strained a situation as this was.
The fact that Emma counted Adelaide as a friend was more a recommendation of the woman than a condemnation. But he understood why she pointed it out.
“Yes. Does that mean you will be running back to her, reporting everything about our encounter to her?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder at him, and for a flash of a moment there was an unexpectedly sensual expression on her face. Then she laughed. “No. Most certainly not.”
He leaned in, trying to understand why her words, which were bland enough when taken at face value, hit him in the gut the way they did. Made him want to step closer to her. Crowd her a little, just to hear her catch her breath.
It was madness.
“What’s your story?” he asked, his tone a little too sharp.
She pivoted now and faced him. Her eyes were wide and she clenched her hands in front of her. “My…my story?”
He folded his arms. “Come now. Everyone has a story. Right now I’m wondering how in the worldyouare a wallflower. You are interesting and intelligent.”
She rolled her eyes slightly. “The two hallmarks of a wallflower, Your Grace, you must know that.”
He edged forward, just a little. Not enough for his taste, but enough that her eyes widened ever so slightly in the dark. “And lovely,” he added, surprised to find that he felt it was true.
Despite her tightly bound hair and ugly dress and the spectacles that blocked him from getting a good view of her eyes, there was something interesting about her slender face. High cheekbones, full lips, a long, lovely neck.
She took a long step away from him and those full lips thinned into a scowl. “What are you doing?”
He blinked. Most ladies would have tittered and cooed over his compliment, but Adelaide actually looked…angry.
“Doing?” he repeated, and felt rather stupid for parroting her.
She nodded. “You’re playing with me. You’ve been in ballrooms with me dozens of times and never spared me so much as a glance.”
He shifted slightly. “Well, I’m no longer engaged now.”
Her brow wrinkled and her hands unclenched in front of her. She stared at him for a beat, two, too long, too close. And then she shocked him by stepping around him and moving back into the ballroom.
“Good night, Your Grace,” she tossed over her shoulder, utterly cold and dismissive.
He turned to watch her go, watched her shut the door behind her and leave him alone on the terrace. And he was shocked that what he wanted to do was follow her. Catch her arm. Force her to continue their interaction.
Which was not something he had expected when he chose her to dance with. And it wasn’t something he wanted. Not at all.
Adelaide’s face felt hot as fire as she reentered the ballroom to the rising whispers of those in attendance. Dozens of pairs of eyes swept to her and most narrowed as they gossiped behind their fans. But it wasn’t their chatter that made her dizzy and uncomfortable.
It was Northfield. Damnable Northfield and his intense stare and his lovely smell and the way he could focus on a person and make her feel like she was singular and important and beautiful. Of course she knew something most women in her position wouldn’t.
