“Yes,” he agreed. Taking her hand, he bowed over it and said, “I shall return in time.”
She nodded. When he leaned over her, she caught a whiff of his cologne as she had when they’d danced. Something woodsy, she would say if asked to describe it. It made her want to sniff his neck.
Surprised by her own yearning, she watched his tall form walk away and thought their next dance could not come soon enough.
And then, he ruined it all by not showing up. Again. The last waltz began, and Lord Burnley was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Seven
Luckily, Thomas hadreturned and was showing signs of ennui. Not telling her brother about Lord Burnley’s second egregious outrage, Adelia crumpled her sparse dance card and shoved it into her reticule.
“Ready?” she asked. “To depart, I mean?”
“Yes.” Her brother sounded older than his years. “By all means, let’s go.”
Without a backward glance, Adelia left the Tourney’s ballroom and descended the great staircase to await their carriage.
Despite the disappointing ending, she had experienced how fabulous a ball could be with the right partner. Perhaps that’s how all those other young ladies had felt, too, during the week or so Lord Burnley had graced them with his attention.
Adelia hadn’t been able to hold onto the viscount’s regard for even an entire evening. Perhaps it was her own fault. She shouldn’t have reminded him how many Seasons she’d had. It truly was shameful. In the morning, she would press her brother again to let her retire before she needed a cane upon the dance floor.
However, the next day, her brother was gone when she went down to breakfast. Mr. Lockley said Lord Smythe would be out most of the day and reminded her she had a boating party to attend in the early afternoon.
Wrinkling her nose, Adelia immediately considered sending word of a sudden headache. After all, Thomas wasn’t there to push her to go. Albeit, if a megrim were to seem genuine, she wouldn’t be able to send word until the last minute, which gave her hours to worry over whether she should engage in such subterfuge.
To take her mind off the potential embarrassment of boating, forced to join one of many small parties in which everyone else chatted away while she sat silently, Adelia turned to her writing. She had plenty to write about, including her own exciting, new sensations from the previous night to flavor her stories.
The doorbell rang at one minute past eleven o’clock. When Mr. Lockley entered, she was prepared for him to say Mr. Beaumont was there again.
“Lord Burnley wishes to know if you are receiving visitors, my lady.”
Lord Burnley?
She glanced down to remind herself what gown Penny had laid out that morning. Not a bad choice for her first outfit of the day, a pale green dress with gray trim. Certainly not a ballgown, but good enough for receiving visitors and going out to the shops.
Good enough for meeting with a man who’d left her without a dance partner. Twice!
“Show him in and bring tea, please.”
“Yes, my lady. Shall I send in Penny?”
She hadn’t considered a chaperone, but Lord Burnley, for all his scowls, terseness, and clenched fists, didn’t alarm her the way other men did.
“No. I’ll ring if I need her.”
Mr. Lockley raised an eyebrow but said nothing. A few seconds later, he showed in Lord Burnley, who was dressed impeccably in dark gray.
The viscount did not approach too closely, nor take her hand. Instead, he bowed deeply, and she returned the gesture with a curtsey.
Wishing she could launch into a pleasant welcome and tell him how unexpected his visit was, in lieu of such grace, she cleared her throat. No words came, so she waited for him to speak.
Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared at the floor by her feet.
“Frankly, I’m surprised you agreed to see me after last night,” he began.
She shrugged, which made him raise his gaze to hers and shake his head.
“You are not like other women.”
