Still twenty feet down the hall yet with his eyes fixed determinedly on her was William Woodsom — a few years older than her, handsome in a classic way, always good fun at a gathering, though a tad cock-sure of himself in her opinion. No doubt that was due to his father being an expatriate from England and an earl or a duke of something or other. William maintained a slight accent that seemed to make the girls hearts beat more quickly.
Luckily, Rose was immune. In fact, her pulse slowed when she realized who it was, though she was not entirely sure there was no threat to her person. After all, they were barely acquaintances, and certainly not friends.
“Mr. Woodsom,” she said, greeting him with a nod of her head when he was ten feet away. She hadn’t noticed him downstairs.How odd that he would be up here on the second floor!
“Miss Malloy,” he returned, slowing his steps when he reached her. “How is it that you can make a greeting sound like a challenge?”
She tilted her head.What did he mean?Then she couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. There was something about him that made her feel spirited.
“It’s no matter,” he added when she didn’t answer. “Are you tired of the party already?” His eyes looked her up and down — not with insolence though with definite interest.
Rose considered her answer. “In truth, I am a little weary of the party.” This and every other one, she thought to herself. Then she tried to be more sociable and added, “Though I do love to dance.”
“Odd. I don’t believe I’ve seen you dance, not lately at any rate,” he said, his well-formed lips ending with a half-smile. “However, the party loses its luster in your absence.”
She smiled back at his light banter. William Woodsom was a known flirt, nearly as bad as she used to be when she was a precocious teenager. Yet somehow, they had never connected, nor had even the briefest of attachments. He had entered her circle rather late, having spent his formative years in Great Britain and the Continent. Rose had always been interested in someone else in their group.BeforeFinn. And after him, she’d felt nothing.
“Does it really?” she asked, tilting her head. “Has Maeve Norcross grown tired of you already?”
He raised an eyebrow but gave no indication she had hit a sore spot. “Have you been keeping track of my attachments?”
She did not blush; after all, she had no designs on him. She merely knew that Claire had seen Maeve and William riding along the Common because her good friend had been keeping an eye on Franklin Brewster, who was Maeve’s cousin and thus had been riding along behind.
“So shehasdiscarded you?”
“What an awful way to put it!” William protested, with mock indignation. “Discarded, indeed, like an old stocking.”
However, he didn’t deny it or look the least bit upset.
Rose gave an unladylike shrug. “I am returning to the ballroom now. The luster will be restored momentarily.”
William laughed. “You ought not to walk around by yourself.”
“I sought only to avoid too many family members.” She turned away, realizing that perhaps she’d spoken out of turn. Yet he fell into step beside her as they started once more toward the far staircase, so she added, “Everywhere I turn, it seems there is a Malloy.”
“Being theonlyoffspring does have its privileges,” he offered, sounding sincere.
Hm. He had always struck her as someone who enjoyed his privileges. That was certain. Perhaps a tad spoiled, perhaps he considered himself entitled. Perhaps he would end up inheriting a castle or country manor back in his parents’ home country. She didn’t know. She knew only that his father was an ambassador with an office at the State House and that William worked with him in some capacity.
Actually Rose knew one other thing — that too many of her acquaintances had fallen for William’s good looks only to have their expectations dashed.
For her part, Rose appreciated his wit, his charm, his lively disposition, even his pleasing face and figure. However, she was not the type to fall at a man’s feet, especially knowing as she did his reputation for a quickly wandering eye. She had never given up the smallest part of her heart, neither before nor since Phineas Bennet, and she didn’t intend to start with the likes of Woodsom.
They were nearly at the bottom tread when, unexpectedly, he rushed a step ahead, abruptly cut in front of her, and turned at once to face her. Unlike her oldest sister, Rose was not overly tall. However with William a step below, they were nearly nose to nose.
“Whatareyou doing?” she asked, grinding to a stop, their faces inches apart.
“I’m going to kiss the prettiest girl at the Tremont.”
