His footsteps quietly followed me.
This ballroom felt so different from the Hickmores’. There, if Mr. Northam had asked me to marry him, I would have said yes. I would have even danced with him.
But I didn’t want him to ask me now. And it wasn’t him I wished to dance with now, either. “Did your cousin relay to you that he offered to teach me to waltz?”
Gregory stirred and took a step forward. “And you accepted?”
“No, I—” I stopped. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to him. His expression was easier to see up close. “Would you teach me?” I whispered.
I held my breath, waiting for an answer, and took in as many of his features as the dim light would allow. His hair that curled when wet, his handsome face, so open when he genuinely smiled, his eyes that expressed so much of his emotion. He was strong and ethical and good. My lungs burned in my chest. Still I didn’t breathe. But not a muscle moved in his face, nor anywhere in his body.
I exhaled. That was my answer then. “I will prevail upon someone else to teach me. Excuse me, Lord Williams.” I stepped around him.
His hand grabbed mine. Startled, I spun back around.
“Margaret,” he whispered, suddenly close. His hand rose again, this time without hesitation, and cupped my face, his thumb gently tracing my cheek. I tilted my head into his touch. This was all that I had ever wanted. The gentle touch, the whisper of my name from a man I adored.
He leaned forward, his breath warm on my cheek. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Of course it wouldn’t be proper. I’d been caught up in the moment, caught up in the way I wanted to be with him, with only him. And unlike his cousin, he was too honorable to risk a scandal.
“Unless. . . . ” he said, shifting closer, his other hand rising to cup my face.
“Unless?” I asked, my voice barely audible, hope tinged with trepidation swelling within me.
His forehead came to rest against mine. “Margaret, choose me.” The raw emotion in his plea tore at me.
He still wanted me. He still cared for me. The appearance of his cousin hadn’t changed that.
My elation was dampened only by my own questions. Could I do it? Could I choose him and break my promise? This man was better than any I had ever known. My father and Daniel both wanted me to marry him. Louisa and my mother would congratulate me. Even Alice would have welcomed him as a brother if I had not been so against him.
Gregory could not offer me safety. Not as long as I cared for him. But I loved him. Did that not count for something?
Slipping my hand up his neck and into his hair, I finally touched that lock that curled above his ear. His breath hitched and he pulled away ever so slightly. His eyes, full of desire, searched mine.
I wanted to be with him. I couldn’t deny it. My mind screamed in protest, warning me of danger, but I no longer wished to deny that Gregory was who I wanted.
His gaze dropped to my lips. I swallowed, anticipation building in my chest. He leaned closer. His breath brushed my mouth, making my lips tingle. His head tilted. I closed my eyes.
“Thank you for informing me of this,” my father said, his voice suddenly sounding just outside the door.
I tore away from Gregory and stumbled back a few steps, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath agonizingly loud as I focused on the hall outside the door and watched as my father strode past. I couldn’t be caught alone with Gregory. What would my father think?
But then I realized what I’d done and my gaze shifted back to Gregory. What did it matter if I was caught? Hadn’t I just determined that Gregory was the person I wanted to be with, and hadn’t he revealed as much to me?
I stepped toward Gregory, wanting him to know that I wasn’t ashamed to be with him. That he was my choice.
Mr. Northam’s voice stopped me. “I hope I did the right thing in telling you.” He said something else, but it was too muffled to make out.
Gregory glanced toward the door then motioned me toward the alcove as he shifted, blocking my view of the door and, I realized, blocking me from being seen.
There was no reason to hide anymore, though, was there? We’d proclaimed our feelings for each other. What did it matter if his cousin discovered us? Confused, I retreated to the shadows of the alcove just as Mr. Northam appeared in the doorway. “Ah, Williams. There you are.”
I pressed myself farther into the shadows as Gregory turned toward his cousin. “What do you want, Northam?” he asked icily.
Mr. Northam stepped into the room. “I didn’t know you enjoyed this room so much. Or perhaps you’re hoping for success where I failed?” He peered around Gregory as though searching the room.
My gaze jumped between Gregory and Mr. Northam. Success where Mr. Northam had failed? What did Mr. Northam mean?
Gregory’s voice turned colder. “Did you want something in particular?”
“I want you to offer me a drink in a more comfortable location. We have matters to discuss.”
It seemed to take a full minute for Gregory to move. “Of course,” he growled as he finally strode out the door.
Mr. Northam made a pretense of following him, but paused at the door and turned back. He surveyed the room with a slow turn of his head, stopping a moment on my location. I pressed against the wall, holding my breath, trying not to move.
Then he left, closing the door behind him, plunging me into darkness.
Thirty-Four
The next morning I walked down the stairs with resolve. There was no longer reason to hesitate. I wanted to be with Gregory, if he’d have me. He was worth the risk to my heart. I would not back down, nor would I pull away again.
Ignoring the small twinge of uncertainty that last night had produced, I located him seated at his desk, studying a ledger. And this time he was alone.
I stepped inside. “My lord?”
“Miss Brinton.” He didn’t look up from his ledger.
I frowned. This wasn’t the reception I’d hoped for. In an act of boldness, I strode to the desk. “About last night. . . .”
He finally looked up, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms with a casual disinterest in his expression.
My uncertainty grew. Was he really so unmoved by what had happened last night? Wasn’t he going to say anything? I’d come into the room, seeking him, even giving him a topic upon which to converse. So he should say something about last night. Or anything at all.
He just sat in his chair and waited.
All right, I would start. I was, after all, the one who had initiated the conversation.
How did I begin? Did I tell him that I’d changed my mind? That my heart was truly his? Or did I bring up the dancing and how I was ready to agree to his suggestion of “unless”? And would he please kiss me, because I was desperate to feel the touch of his lips against mine? That had to be in there somewhere. Maybe I should bring that up first. No, second. Because first should be my asking if he would mind it so very much if I didn’t release him from the engagement after all because I’d realized I didn’t want to be without him.
It all seemed ridiculous now that I was standing before him with him showing no interest in me whatsoever. “Never mind.”
I turned to leave, then turned back, unable to leave his presence so soon. “Only I wanted to say thank you. For the flowers. And the book.”