Chapter 10 #2
He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. It kept his hands from reaching out and carrying him along with them as they made their way across the floor to strangle the current Duke of Kenneworth.
He could see why the man was attracted to Peaches. Who wouldn’t be? But the truth of it was, David had absolutely no bloody idea who Peaches truly was. Her name, yes, and where she was from, but that was the extent of it.
For example, Kenneworth had no idea how profoundly kind Peaches could be.
But Stephen did. She had had that kindness on display for him—before he made that stupid remark about organic earth.
She had been gloriously wonderful with his uncle Kendrick’s children and his brother Gideon’s daughter.
She had been lovely to his parents. And when Tess had gone on her little vacation to points unknown with John de Piaget, Peaches had stepped into her sister’s shoes without hesitation and done what was necessary with grace and skill, and without complaint.
What wasn’t to like about her?
The sticking point was, as he’d told Raphaela, that she didn’t like him.
Perhaps that was putting it mildly. She loathed him.
It was a rather novel sensation, that. He’d never been shunned by a woman before.
He had always done the “oh, so sorry, but I’ve an engagement” kind of thing to let them down easily.
Peaches hadn’t let him down; she’d given him the boot.
It was very unpleasant. After all, he was relatively rich, relatively young, and had a pair of titles.
His father wasn’t ancient, but Stephen had found himself taking on more and more of his father’s public duties, which left him relatively responsible.
His ancestral home had been used half a dozen times as a movie set and was just a minor slog over the dunes from the sea.
If that wasn’t enough to impress a feisty, argumentative, impossible Yank, what would be?
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Don’t suppose you’d want to go for a walk in a wintry garden, would you?”
Stephen looked to his right to find Andrea Preston standing there, smiling an amused smile at him.
“Do I look like I need it?” he asked.
“You do look a little peaked,” she agreed. “And so I thought a walk might be just the thing to bring the color back to your cheeks.”
“You’re too kind.”
“My worst fault.”
Stephen would have taken her up on her offer, but he made the mistake of turning and looking at the door.
He caught his breath.
Then he smiled.
White had been the right color. The woman standing there in the doorway looked like a princess. It helped, perhaps, that she was by far the most beautiful in the room, but he could honestly say that that wasn’t it. It wasn’t the dress, or her hair swept up off her shoulders, or her perfect face.
It was just Peaches Alexander, with her beauty shining through where all could see it.
Not even the sight of the Duke of Kenneworth trotting over to monopolize her was enough to sour his pleasure at just watching her.
She was escorted into the ballroom as if she had been royalty. Stephen was fairly certain he heard the grinding of teeth coming from various quarters, but he ignored it. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected that even Andrea had deserted him for points unknown.
He wondered how it was he would ever get Peaches away from David to have even a single dance.
He imagined the evening would drag on endlessly.
He would have been happy for that at another time, for it would have given him the chance to simply stand to the side and watch the absolute perfection that was Peaches Alexander, but at the moment he was too overcome by the desire to help David Preston meet with a crippling accident to concentrate on much else.
He tried to convince himself that he just wanted Peaches to be happy, but it occurred to him as he watched David signal the orchestra, then sweep Peaches into his arms, that he didn’t want her just to be happy.
He wanted her to be his.
He’d suspected that all along, of course, but there was something about seeing her in another man’s arms with her face aglow with happiness that forced him to face the truth. Indeed, it was almost enough to leave him looking for a place to sit down.
Instead, he simply found himself a handy sideboard topped with a few sturdy keepsakes and leaned against it. He put on his usual mask to hide his thoughts and gave himself over to deep thoughts.
He didn’t know if she could learn to love him. He wasn’t sure if she would be willing to take on the duties that would be required of her as the Countess of Artane when the time came. He wasn’t even convinced she could live the rest of her life in England.
All he knew was that he wanted her, for scores of reasons he didn’t dare consider at the moment.
He had another deep breath, then began to plan his strategy.
He hadn’t spent all that time in the bowels of various libraries across the world without having learned something about preparing a battle.
He also hadn’t endured innumerable defeats at Ian MacLeod’s hands without finally learning a few less-than-gentlemanly tactics.
It was obvious the first step was to see if he couldn’t convince her to set aside her animosity toward him.
He would have preferred to have taken a bit more time to contemplate how that might best be accomplished, but the truth was, the battle was upon him and his foe was engaged in a waltzing offensive.
He would have to commandeer her dance card and cross out David’s name at least once.
The night was young.