“Oh, please, Lord Hawthorne! You simply must help me…” Melanie pleaded, mouth pursed into a pout.
“You cannot mean to make a lady beg your mercy, Hawthorne,” Lauren cut in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “That would be most cruel.”
Theodore choked back a response. He had every intention of making Lauren beg for his mercy. Preferably in the privacy of her room. Away from anyone who might think to rescue her.
Melanie latched onto his arm. Without making a scene, Theodore knew he could not dislodge the woman.
“Oh, Penelope has need of me,” Lauren said, her gaze landing somewhere beyond Theodore and Melanie. “I do wish you luck at whist.”
Before Theodore could stop her, she glided away.
Chapter 8
Lauren watched until she could take no more.
Jealousy twisted her insides as Melanie hung on Theodore’s every word, as well as his arm. At one point, she even draped herself on his shoulder, laughing.
“You must say one thing for her.” Penelope pressed a second glass of wine into Lauren’s hand with a chuckle. “She is persistent.”
“And beautiful.” Lauren sighed.
“If it is any consolation, Hawthorne has avoided her. He’s not provided escort to any lady as far as I am aware. It’s been a source of gossip. Especially considering you broke off your engagement and he was technically free to pursue another.”
“I would not care if he did pursue another.” Lauren shifted her feet. She fought the urge to glance at the couple again when Melanie’s trill of laughter drifted over the saloon. It was just a touch louder than the three-piece stringed quartet hired from the village. “Our association is over.”
Penelope tilted her blonde head, regarding Lauren with a perceptive eye. “Is it, my dear? It does not appear so. I think you are not quite at ease with another woman’s interest in your former fiancé.” Theodore’s form was subjected to a calculating assessment. “One cannot fault the ladies for it, however. He is a fine specimen of a man, and with his title and fortune, well, it’s easy to see why they adore him so.” Adjusting a few baubles on the Christmas tree, Penelope smiled. “I’m glad you are not still cross with me, cousin.”
“The reasons for my anger were selfish.” Lauren desperately ignored the leap in her pulse at the reminder of Theodore’s darkly dangerous good looks. How many times had she nearly drowned in his winter blue eyes the afternoon before? Far more than she wished to count. “After all, it is not my place to dictate your guest list. I would know, however, whether the earl was invited before or after I accepted your invitation.”
Penelope sipped her wine before answering, and Lauren could not help but think if that was her cousin’s way of gaining more time to form a response.
“They were sent at the same time. Honestly, I doubted Hawthorne would accept, although I suppose he hoped you would attend.”
“Perhaps he desired other company.” Noticing Melanie’s hand casually draped along the top of Theodore’s thigh, dangerously close to his lap, Lauren winced. Was it her imagination, or did his muscles jump beneath the fine wool of his trousers?
“You can’t believe that’s true. The man has hunted you from the moment you arrived. I’ve no idea what scandal led to the demise of your engagement, but do not doubt he is devoted to having you for his wife, Lauren.”
“He betrayed me,” Lauren whispered absently, watching Theodore murmur into Melanie’s ear. Curiously, the lady scowled, removing her hand from his leg with amazing speed.
“With another woman? I don’t believe that at all. From the moment you met, it was plain you were meant for one another,” Penelope scoffed.
“I—I really don’t want to talk about this, Penelope.” Lauren drew herself up straighter while cringing at the thought of Theodore lavishing attention on anyone else. “I fear I’m not proving very festive. Perhaps the journey here is finally catching up to me.” Or perhaps my efforts in eluding Theodore have exhausted me.
Penelope slipped an arm around Lauren. “Dear cousin, I’ve no wish to pry, but might I offer a bit of advice? From a married woman’s perspective, if you will have it.” At Lauren’s reluctant nod, the viscountess prodded, “If a man is striving to prove you have his attention, or apologizing when he hasn’t shown the inclination of doing so before, please consider its worth.”
“What are you saying, precisely?” Lauren breathed.
“Give Hawthorne a chance, my dear. He may surprise you with his sincerity.”
Lauren pondered her cousin’s advice as the atmosphere in the salon grew increasingly jovial. Sitting in on a few hands of vingt-et-un, she lost abysmally because her mind was not on the game. Then she stood by, watching as several brave souls played Snapdragon until all the raisins in the bowl of flaming brandy were gone.
Rather aimlessly, she wandered about the large, boisterous room, acutely aware of the instant Theodore broke free of the whist game.
From a deceptively casual stance by the large fireplace, his back against the wall and a glass of brandy in one hand, Theodore’s dark gaze followed Lauren. Even though engaged in conversation with other lords over recent parliamentary matters, his attention sent a shiver up her spine even while he kept his distance.
A small blessing, Lauren conceded. The earl’s predatory nature was enough that men such as Lord Sanderson dared not venture close at all for the moment. She was unsure how long that might last.
In the midst of the evening’s activities and chatter, a small group of servants wheeled in two tea carts. Lined up in neat little rows were footed porcelain bowls filled with fresh snow and a pitcher containing a syrupy mixture of lemon juice and sugar.
“Oh!” One lady clapped her hands. “We’re having ices just like at Gunter’s!”
This was met with surprised exclamations of delight. Those not seated at the gaming tables gathered around the tea carts, eagerly accepting servings of the treat. Lauren was momentarily distracted by someone’s enthusiastic shout of triumph over a favorable turn of cards and did not notice Theodore sliding into the open space by her side.
She was immediately wary but refused to flee.
He handed her a bowl. “I remember how fond you are of desserts like this.”
“Thank you,” Lauren muttered, swallowing a deep breath when their fingers brushed.
Theodore’s full lips quirked with a smile, leaving no doubt he was aware of her reaction.
Lifting her spoon, Lauren took a dainty nibble of the ice as if she hadn’t just come close to losing her composure. “It’s very good. Don’t you care for some, my lord?”
She froze in the process of taking another bite once she realized his eyes were riveted on her mouth.
“Will you feed it to me yourself, Lauren?” A hint of a smile twitched at his lips.
She blinked, and he was suddenly even closer.
“Of course not,” she stammered. “What a preposterous suggestion—”
“Then allow me the pleasure to do so for you…” Theodore’s voice lowered an octave, and it seemed as though they were the only two occupants in the room. Everything else, the noise, the laughter, the gaiety, all faded away. The earl’s eyes, so deep and mesmerizing, held hers. Lauren did not realize she was trapped like a rabbit in a snare until his finger gently traced the bare skin above her gloves.