He grinned, not a little proud ofthathorse. “I can count on Nyx for speed when it’s needed. He’s dependable in that.”
“If nothing else.” Rose’s comment got a neigh from the horse.
Dory’s heart pounded at his happiness. “You feel true joy in winning.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but fortunately, only Rose was near enough to overhear.
He finally turned his attention to her. “Yes, I do.” He paused for just a moment before understanding dawned. “It is another activity that brings me happiness.” His grin changed into a soft smile. “Thank you for making me aware of this.”
She nodded, her throat closing at the look in his eyes. She wanted to say the common theme was winning, but she didn’t wish him to stop looking at her in that way.
“Lord Leighhall is not happy.” Rose broke the moment, nodding to where the man stood with Mr. Retfield. “Which is as it should be. He was incredibly rude to Dory.”
Lord Harewood, who had looked in the direction his sister had motioned, turned back quickly. “Rude? How? What did he say?”
She wanted to tug on Rose to remain silent, but she was beyond arm’s length. “It was nothing. He’s been rude to me before.” She waved her hand, wishing he would go back to smiling. “It was nothing.”
“Oh, but you should have heard Dory insult him right back.” Rose laughed. “It was wonderful.” She linked her arm through her brother’s. “Now we will escort you back to save you from Mother’s scolding.”
Lord Harewood continued to look at her with brows lowered, making her search for a way to make him smile again.
Instead, she addressed Rose. “Why would your mother scold Lord Harewood?”
At that, his brows relaxed, and though he didn’t smile, he didn’t seem as concerned. “Because my mother would have wanted me to allow one of her guests to win. But too many people here know Nyx and his abilities. It would have been too obvious.” He looked at his sister. “I will be happy for your escort.”
“Come, Dory. You must come too. Mother won’t bother us if you are with us.”
Happy to be of assistance, she linked her arm with Rose’s free one. As they made their way back to the shade of the trees, she was able to untangle some of her jumbled thoughts. The first thread to come loose was the fact that she wished she were armin arm with the earl. The second piece of twine to unravel itself made it clear that she had too many feelings for the man. The rest of the jumble tangled around how he felt about her. She had to know.
Chapter Fourteen
Stepping out ontothe balcony of his room in his dressing gown, Felton inhaled the cool, night air. There was no moon, which was why his mother had chosen earlier to reveal her lit garden. Many of the guests had not experienced his mother’s faerie garden, as she titled it, and they raved about it until well after midnight. No doubt she would be in a pleasant mood on the morrow.
He studied the open field, trees, and the once-lit gardens. Though Lady Dorothea had been through some of the courts before, she had seemed to enjoy them on the arm of Lord Dearling. He wasn’t ignorant that three men were becoming far more interested in her. Lord Dearling made it ridiculously obvious. Lord Manning was more subtle about it but no less persistent. Mr. Retfield also appeared interested but didn’t jockey for position with the other two, simply stepping in when they were absent.
This should please him. It did please him. It also infuriated him, which was baffling. This was what he wanted, for a student of the school to be sought after. She had taken his advice and had become popular among the bachelors. He should be feeling victorious, not frustrated.
It must be that he didn’t know which man she preferred. If he could have a private conversation with her, she would assuredly tell him. He didn’t doubt that at all. But having a private conversation with her was becoming more difficult by the day.He could enlist the aid of Lady Sommerset, but then he’d have to explain why he needed to talk with Lady Dorothea. He wasn’t yet ready to reveal his part in her success. She had done the work of curtailing her conversation. He had simply guided her in the right direction.
He sincerely hoped she didn’t choose Retfield. The man’s reticence to show his interest made him far too weak for her. Dearling would do anything for her, at least until his mother asked him to do something else. They all knew the man’s mother would have the final say. Would she approve of Lady Dorothea? Manning was the most fitted to her. The man had strong character, was a marquess, and he wasn’t afraid to fight for time with her. But could he appreciate the honest Dorothea?
And there was his concern. That must be why he kept replaying scenes of her with the other men. That was the question that wouldn’t let him sleep. Could any of the men appreciate her as she truly was, and not the lady she was succeeding at presenting herself to be because she changed how she spoke? The answer was obvious. They couldn’t. Very few men could. He’d known that before he’d started this challenge. But did she know it? If she did, would she accept that?
His irritation melted into defeat. She would. She had no choice. It wasn’t as if her mother would curtail her amorous activities. If the countess had cared a wit about her daughter’s prospects, she would have been at the least more circumspect, but she was whispered about at White’s. Her dissatisfaction with her husband seemed to be growing as she’d been spotted leaving two events with a gentleman not her husband in the final week of the season. She either grew careless or purposefully wished to damage her husband. Neither of which aided in making a match for Dory. It was as if the woman had sent her daughter away to forget about her.
The sound of a latch moving broke the quiet night. He turned to see if Sommerset also couldn’t sleep. Instead, a shadowy figure appeared on the balcony just beyond his. Dorothea.
She stepped to the edge, laid her hands on the balustrade, and peered into the darkness. Her white shift moved slightly from the gentle breeze, which also brought the scent of lemon drops to his nose. Something in her stance told him she was troubled. He must have observed her more than he’d realized to understand such a subtle posture.
Her hair lay long against her back, slightly tangled while the breeze gently lifted the strands against her cheek. Her profile in the limited light accentuated her high cheekbones and turned-up nose.
Suddenly, as if she sensed his gaze, she turned her head and looked directly at him. He couldn’t see her eyes, but her hand came to her chest. “You.” Though the word was whispered, it broke the silence of the night.
“Yes. Could you not sleep?” He kept his voice low as a balcony lay between them.
She cocked her head as if she couldn’t hear, which made sense since the light breeze carried her words to him, but not so his to hers.
Without a second thought, he jumped up onto the balustrade closest to Sommerset’s balcony and stepped across the two-foot space to the balustrade neighboring before quietly stepping down. He continued across the empty balcony to the balustrade closest to her and jumped up once again. When he stepped across the abyss between the two balconies, her intake of breath registered before he stepped down.
She had backed up to allow him room and stood frozen, her hand over her mouth.
