“Lady Antonia?” he called again, his voice barely above a whisper.
Chedworth had never come after her before so why should he do so now?
Did she reveal herself?
Oh, if only he was for her, but it would never be. He was lively, social, enjoyed being with people and they loved having him as a guest.
Antonia had watched Chedworth from when she first came to Town. Nobody was a stranger to him. Even if he’d not met them previously, by the time the conversation was complete, they were likely friends. Chedworth thrived in London while she barely survived it.
Oh, if only…Antonia closed her thoughts. There was no hope, nor any possibility that there could be more. It didn’t matter that she adored him, and he was her one sanctuary when surrounded by people. A simple touch and all else faded, but no gentleman wanted a woman who was constantly by his side, hand on his arm, and afraid to let go. That was too much to ask of anyone.
“There you are.”
Antonia glanced up to find Chedworth standing beside her. She’d been so lost in her own musings that she’d not felt him approach. With anyone else, she would have experienced their emotion before they ever got so close.
“Why do you do that?” he demanded.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Run out before a waltz has finished.”
She had feared that this question would come one day and knew that when Chedworth learned the truth of how pathetic she was, he’d want nothing more to do with her.
“I did not wish to be caught in the crowd.”
“You left me standing there, and not for the first time, looking the fool.”
She’d not considered that. Though, pulling him with her, and out onto the terrace would have started tongues wagging as her good reputation was destroyed.
“I needed to get away before the noise and the crowd became too much.” That was the most truthful that she was willing to be.
“If I ask you to waltz with me again, will you do the same?” he demanded.
“It is likely, yes.”
“Why?”
“I just told you.” It was a half-truth, and not good enough.
“Then do not expect me to ask again.”
A knife to her heart would have been less painful, but Antonia was not surprised.
“I do not understand,” he said after a moment.
“What do you not understand?” she asked, almost afraid of his answer.
“I have had enjoyable conversations with you when we’ve strolled in the park. I would think that you had some caring for me as I am the only one you will dance with, yet you flee at the first opportunity.”
Did she tell him the truth?
She couldn’t.
He would never understand. And, if he did, Chedworth would only pity her. Antonia would rather he disliked her than pity her.
“I cannot abide crowds.” Which was as close to the truth as she would allow.
“I had hoped that something more could develop between us, perhaps a courtship. I truly enjoy your company, Lady Antonia, but I can no longer be the fellow who constantly chases after you.”
