“Pish posh! You may not have any living family, but you were still the daughter of Viscount Foxton, my dear. That is connection. That is family. Do not disregard your heritage as if it never existed. It did and you are the product of it.” The dowager dabbed at her eyes.
“You are right. I am sorry. The earl may not care that I bring no family into a union with him. Were he to ask that is.”
Tony let go of her hands and it felt odd to lose the warmth of her. “He would likely think it an advantage to have no in-laws to answer to.” His tone was harsher than he had intended, and it made her stare at him, but he had looked away from her before she saw something he definitely did not want her to see.
“Now, Marianne, who did you dance with tonight?”
Marianne gave him a list of names, but his eyes kept flicking to Lucinda.
Lucinda looked down at her hands. Hands that had been in his only moments before.
The carriage came to a stop, Tony handing down each lady. Lucinda alighted last. The others had all gone upstairs, which left only her and Tony in the darkened foyer.
“I’m sorry if I have disappointed you or made you angry by dancing with Lord Dunstan.”
His expression showed his surprise. “Not at all. Miss Sterling, I am immensely proud of you. You were the perfect blend of beauty and grace tonight. No one would have guessed it was your first ball.”
It was her turn to be surprised. “Really? I could not have done it without your mother and sister. Or you.”
“It was my pleasure. Good night, Lucinda.” He brushed his lips against her forehead, and she closed her eyes for a moment so she could feel his lips’ tender pressure, their warmth against her skin. Her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket on instinct.
“Good night, Tony,” she whispered looking up at him. He was looking down at her too, an expression on his face like he might just want to kiss her again. And then he did.
A kiss! His lips warm on hers. Her heart hammered in her chest and her face heated. When she opened her eyes, he was placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away slightly. “My apologies; that was a mistake. Please, excuse me.” And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the lower hallway.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, leaving her to stare after him. Would her life be always memories of people leaving her? She wanted to chase after him, but her legs would not obey her.
How could such a simple thing as a kiss have her heart racing so? Have her blood zing through her veins like thunderbolts? Make her lose all sense? She had never been so close to a man, even while dancing. His jacket had felt nice under her fingertips. The heat of him radiating through his clothing and the scent of aftershave and starch.
Dunstan did not give her tingles when he touched her hand. He did not make her heart race. She wasn’t sure what the boundaries of a ward and her guardian were. He had said it was a mistake, but she did not want it to be a misstep. She glanceddown the hallway and sighed. Did everything have to be this hard to understand? She was out of her depth, and he had said it was a mistake. Was she in the wrong for letting him? Is that why he had left? Surely not. He had been the one to kiss her. She should not think of it again, but, of course, now she could think of nothing else.
Her first real kiss, and Tony had given it to her. Her feet barely registered on the floor beneath her as she made her way to her room. May was not there yet, and she was glad. Kicking off her slippers, she lay on the bed, looking up at the canopy and wishing he had kissed her more. Thinking of Tony and kisses made her giggle, but then she remembered.
He said he would never marry.
Chapter Eight
Cursing himself tothe devil, Tony reached for a glass to pour a drink, looked at the bottle, and took it instead. He paced his small study, his mind a jumble, and pictures of her face, as she had looked up at him with those huge green eyes. The way she had said his name. Bloody hell! What must she think of him now? The first kiss was the kind of kiss he would have given his sister, but the look she had given him afterwards was certainly not sisterly. The way she had clung to him, her beautiful full lips partly open. An invitation to kiss them. His body had responded before his brain could tell him no. Worst of all was that he wanted to kiss her again. God help him, what was wrong with him?
He had to get the image of her lips out of his head. He had no intention of pursuing her. He had told her that. She was so innocently naïve about life. About men.
He had thought he had done so well, helping her get ready for her big night and praising her for her success, but in reality? He had hated watching her dance with other men. Especially Dunstan, because she looked like she might actually be interested in him, and damn it, he appeared like a good match. He was not jealous.
This was what they had all been working towards. This night. This ball.
She had looked stunning in her light-blue gown with her hair done like a viscount’s daughter, like a young lady worthyof attending a ton ball. Her eyes held him captive, and her touch sent shock waves through him whenever they touched. He realized then he had wanted to kiss her since the night they met.
He took a hefty slug from the brandy bottle. He was an arse, and he knew it.
He wanted to protect her, but now he may be the one that may hurt her if she were to get notions into her head about him.
Nothing good could come of it. He had told her he could not marry. To do so would mean the end of his position in The Ring with Stafford and he could not imagine his life if he did not have his work to do. It was a rule, with no exceptions. If you married or gained a title, you must leave. It ensured that the mission came first. He could see now how distracting having to be responsible for someone could be.
He put down the bottle and walked out of the room. He had to get out of here and he needed to divert his thoughts, and he knew exactly where to go. He grabbed his hat and coat and left the house for his club. Men in their cups let things slip and he wanted to know more about Lucinda’s father. Concentrating on the father would leave no room to think about kissing the daughter, at least he hoped so.
The club wasnearly empty. It was close to dawn, but a few stragglers were lounging by the fire and, as he suspected, they were the older set. He knew most of them, not well, but he knew their names. He introduced himself and joined them.
“You are Warrington’s brother?” asked one of them as he sucked on his pipe.
