The musicians played the first few notes of a waltz, then stopped to let everyone find a partner and, more importantly, to find room on the dance floor.
“Come along, my toffee heiress, let us dance.”
A thrill went through her at his possessive words until she recalled he’d spent hours dancing with Lady Emily. Swallowing her ridiculous jealousy, Beatrice put her hand on his shoulder, felt his arm around her, his warm fingers resting on her back. Their other hands were perfectly aligned, grasping hold, and then the music began.
A few minutes earlier, she’d been near exhaustion. Now, Beatrice didn’t want the waltz to end.
Chapter Twenty-One
Greer wandered backto his hotel from the Marlborough House ball, unable to get a hackney that morning. Maybe it was his savage costume. In any case, the Langham wasn’t too far, perhaps half an hour’s stroll. He planned to take care of Miss Sylvia and then sleep the day away.
It had been a revelatory event, and his heart had finally shouted at him what he could no longer deny. He had to have Beatrice.
Lady Emily was a nice enough sort of girl, but nothing about her called to him, demanding he be with her. He’d walked away from the scene of scandal and name-calling to have a moment alone and explain how he would no longer be paying her suit and wished her well. Briefly, he felt guilty, especially since she’d seemed willing to continue their tepid courtship, and maybe would have said yes to being his wife.
How well his plans would have worked out if he had loved her. But he didn’t. He loved Beatrice with all his heart. And Carsonbank House in Scotland be damned!
He knew his blue-eyed toffee-maker wasn’t immune to him, either. The exquisite simplicity of a kiss with her — easy to fall into and soul-shattering at the same time — had awakened in him an ardent longing for more. He was confident she felt the same. Even if she didn’t, if she had no more thought for him than for that wretched Melton, he would spend the rest of his days wooing her until she fell head-over-heels for him.
The following day, after he’d rested and hoped she’d done the same, he went to Rare Confectionery to find her.
***
BEATRICE HEARD THEbell tinkle and by Charlotte’s greeting knew who it was. She’d been waiting for Greer to drop by so they could share thoughts on the fancy-dress ball. On the other hand, she’d been half-dreading it, so strong now were her feelings for him. Soon, he would be able to see it plainly upon her face.What if he pitied her?
She went out front. There he was, dressed normally again. How sad to think she’d seen her last glimpse of the American’s impressive chest. Probably many women from the night before felt the same way.
Without preamble, he asked her, “Will you come tour a townhouse with me tomorrow? I need a woman’s opinion.”
His question brought her out of her futile ponderings. She focused on his earnest face and intelligent eyes, avidly wishing she didn’t love him so much. The very notion of him purchasing a home to which he could take Lady Emily caused Beatrice’s irritation to bubble up and over.
“Shouldn’t that woman be your future wife?” she snapped. “Everyone has their own likes and dislikes. I might prefer the drawing room on the upper floor, like at Amity’s house, while others prefer it on the ground floor so guests don’t have to go upstairs.”
“A room is a room, surely,” Greer said, “and you can furnish it for whatever use you like.”
“Not every room is such,” she protested, desperately wanting to make him leave her out of his plans.
