His actual title was still a mystery, but Lydia didn’t care because it didn’t signify. To her, he wastheprince. The one she’d dared to hope for. The one Mrs. Dove-Lyon had endeavored to find. Lydia’s initial touch of uncertainty had completely disappeared. Lord Pendlewood was so easy to be with, so charming and attentive. A true gentleman.
She wondered how she hadn’t noticed him at any of the events, since he’d obviously been present. Would she have known just by looking at him? Again, it didn’t really signify. Being with him now in this beautiful garden, thenearnessof him, had her stomach fluttering.
“I know you’re aware that I was observing you at each event, Miss Page,” Lord Pendlewood said, as if he had an insight to her thoughts.
“Fully aware, my lord,” she replied, “though I confess I never noticed you.”
“As was my intent.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “However, I found it to be an exceedingly irritating pastime, especially as time went on.”
Lydia regarded the outstretched hand.Irritating?
He continued. “May I tell you why, Miss Page?”
“Yes, my lord, of course,” Lydia replied, her confusion growing as she placed her hand in his and stood. At that same moment, the sweet sound of a violin drifted across the garden. Puzzled, she glanced in the direction of it.
“Over the past fortnight, I have watched you dance with a number of different partners,” he said, “all of whom had the privilege of looking into your eyes, hearing your voice, and taking you by the hand as they led you onto the dance floor. And, as time went on, I came to envy them, Miss Page. More and more.” The sound of the violin came closer. “Tonight, however, it is my turn. I’ve already had the privilege of looking into your eyes and hearing your voice, and I am now asking if you would do me the honor of this dance.”
A man emerged from the shadows, a violin tucked beneath his chin, one hand on the fingerboard, the other wielding the bow with graceful expertise. Lydia gasped as the music—a waltz—surrounded them, filling the air with its clarity.
“My lady?” Lord Pendlewood murmured, gazing down at her with an intensity that almost robbed her of speech.
“The honor is mine, my lord,” she said, and stepped into his arms. As the music played, Lord Pendlewood steered Lydia gently around the pond, his eyes on hers, the hint of a smile on his lips. Never had she been so enchanted. There was no chalked wooden dance floor beneath her feet, only fine gravel, but she felt as if she was dancing on air. No vaulted ceiling either, merely the magnificence of a star-strewn sky. The lack of crystal chandeliers was of no consequence at all, given the brilliance of the moon. As for the music, it seemed to have substance, the purity of it bringing tears to Lydia’s eyes.
When at last the music stopped, the violinist bowed, and disappeared into the night. The air felt suddenly hollow, the silence profound despite the splash of the fountain. Lydia, breathless, could only stare up at the man who had arranged this incredible experience.
“I hope it was worth the wait, Miss Page,” he said, releasing her.
“I have no words, my lord, truly,” she said, her heart racing. “I will never forget this night and what you have done.”
“And, unless you intend to dash off before the stroke of midnight, the night is not yet over.” He raised her hand to his lips. “We can stroll around the garden a little more, unless the night air bothers you, in which case we can go indoors.”
“I have no desire to dash off, my lord,” Lydia replied, with some emphasis. She didn’t want the night to end. “I would like to see the rest of the garden, actually.”
“Then so you shall, Miss Page,” he said, presenting his elbow before leading her down one of the paths.
Perhaps it wasdue to the full moon, known to affect people in odd ways. In any case, Ambrose feared he was in a spot of bother. Something about this girl, this tradesman’s daughter, enticed him as he had never been enticed before. It was far too early to admit affection, of course. Besides, doing so would mean lowering the defenses of his pride and exposing his heart. His battered pride had only just reasserted itself after the debacle with Miss Grissom, and simple rationale told him to ignore his foolish heart. And, despite having several things in common, as yet he knew so little of this lady at his side. Was Lydia Page really as perfect as she seemed to be?
“I find it odd that you haven’t asked me yet, Miss Page,” he said, pausing beneath the arbor.
“Asked you what, my lord?”
“What I am.”
“What you are?” She first frowned and then raised her brows. “Oh! You mean your title? That’s because it doesn’t really matter to me, my lord. If I didn’t think we were suited, I wouldn’t wait for the stroke of midnight to be dashing off.”
“Hmm.” Ambrose cocked his head. “So, you believe we might be suited, Miss Page?”
Her smile went straight to his vulnerable heart. “I believe there’s a possibility of it, given that I’m here of my own accord and you haven’t thrown me out yet.”
He laughed and released her. “In that case, Miss Page, allow me to properly introduce myself.” He bowed. “Ambrose Michael Crossley, fifth Earl of Pendlewood, at your service.”
The smile stayed as she dropped into a low curtsy. “It is a pleasure and an honor to have made your acquaintance, Lord Pendlewood.”
Oh yes, Ambrose was definitely in a spot of bother. Here, beneath the arbor, shadow and moonlight played across Miss Page’s face as she rose from her curtsy. She brought to mind a portrait, her skin flawless, cheekbones perfectly sculpted, and lips assuredly meant to be kissed. Her eyes, locked with his, were possessed of a soft light, and gave the impression of an invitation. Ambrose moved closer and traced his fingertips gently down the side of her face. She didn’t flinch, only inhaled softly.
“Well now, Miss Page,” he said, “it seems we are, at last, officially introduced, though I fear I have you at a disadvantage.” His fingertips continued on their journey, following the line of her jaw. “You see, I’ve actually been acquainted with you for three days, whereas you’ve only known me for, what, a couple of hours?”
“But I have knownaboutyou for those three days,” she countered, “and was assured of your reputation and integrity beforehand. If not for that assurance, my lord, I would not be here tonight.”
