Alex gritted her teeth to avoid snapping an angry retort.
Without another glance at Alex, the lady turned her attention back to Branford. “Donotbe a stranger. You know you are always welcome.” A pause. “Anytime.”
After a toss of her golden ringlets and one more playful tap of her costly fan, she moved gracefully towards the crowd milling around the punch bowl.
Alex had to stifle the urge to plant a well-aimed kick to the lady’s provocatively swaying derriere.
She closed her eyes for an instant. The mood of the evening had suddenly changed for her. The glittering lights of the myriad candles seemed too glaring … the scent of the roses too cloying … the notes of the violin too flat … the conversations too shrill.
“Are you feeling out of sorts this evening, Miss Chilton?” asked Branford softly
Alex was about to let fly with a scathing retort, but instead an entirely different set of words came tumbling out.
“Sometimes I wish I were more like … like Lady Cameron.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” growled Branford. “You are much too sensible to think such nonsense as that.”
Alex was stung by his words. “I know I have neither the beauty nor the seductive gowns, nor?—"
“That’snotwhat I said,” snapped the earl.
Alex’s chin came up. “Perhaps I’m tired of being sensible. Someone like Lady Cameron has a certain charm?—”
“She’s little more than a courtesan,” interrupted Branford. “She offers her charms quite
freely—”
“Obviously you speak from experience,” retorted Alex.
“That, Miss Chilton, is most certainly not a topic of conversation open to you.” warned Branford.
She looked away to compose her emotions. But to her consternation, she felt a stinging in her eyes.
“Forgive me, milord,” she said. “You are quite right. Your affairs are none of my concern.” Swallowing the lump she felt forming in her throat, Alex quickly added, “Now, would kindly return me to my friends. I’m promised to Mr. Duckleigh for the next set.”
Branford nodded, and offered her his arm. They made their way across the ballroom in stiff silence and parted without a further word.
Charles Duckleigh greeted her warmly, throwing a dagger-like look at the earl as Branford disappeared into the crowd.
“I wish,” he added in a low voice, “that you would not allow that blackguard to hover around you.”
“And I wish that everyone would cease advising me on what I should and should not do,” retorted Alex. “I am heartily sick of it. I am neither an imbecile nor a child, Charles. At my age, I am perfectly capable of dealing with the Earl of Branford—or anyone else—without suffering any dire consequences.”
Her tone was perhaps sharper than she meant, for Charles reddened and began to stammer an apology. “Alex, I did not mean to imply …”
She laid a hand on his forearm. “Forgive me for shrieking at you like a harridan. I fear I have been rather … out of sorts this evening.”
Visibly relieved, he straightened his shoulders. “I’m sorry for oversetting you. It is only because …” He let his words trail off. “Umm, perhaps you would care to take a stroll out to the back garden instead of dancing?”
Alex nodded gratefully. In truth, she was in no mood to dance.
The cool evening air felt lovely after the confines of the crowded ballroom. They strolled along a graveled path, admiring the lush plantings, which looked even more alluring in the silver wash of moonlight. Alex was so intent on studying a particular bloom of freesia that she didn’t notice Charles had slipped his arm around her waist until he pulled her to a stop.
“Alex—or rather, mydearAlex, I should say. I fear I can no longer contain my feelings …”
Hell’s bells.It appeared the evening was going from bad to worse.
“Charles,” she said gently, disengaging his arm and turning to face him squarely.
