Chapter 2
Oh, she had wanted to dance with Percy so desperately.
He had been Deborah’s fascination since she was ten and four, not that she ever told anyone, of course.
He visited her brother, Peter, each summer, but Percy hadn’t even noticed her at first and only began conversing with her when she was around seventeen.
Being acknowledged had only deepened her infatuation, but she intentionally treated him no differently than she would a friend.
“You promised me last summer that you would ask me to dance, but not once did you approach.”
“That is why you are upset?” he asked incredulously. “Because I did not ask you to dance?”
“Yes!” she cried. “I thought for certain that when you did, which you did not, my mother would not find fault with you, or be concerned about where your estate is, because you are a friend of Peter’s with no interest in me.”
“You were wrong.”
Deborah nearly sucked in a breath and hoped that he would claim that he did have an interest in her. After all, he had visited her each day they were in London and brought her gifts, just as he had sat outside with her every afternoon since they had returned to the family estate.
“I did approach and your mother warned me away.”
Disappointment surged, but Deborah should have known better. “I did not see her do so.” Was he making excuses?
“Whenever I spotted you and started across the ballroom, she would narrow her eyes, purse her lips, then shake her head. She did it on enough occasions that I gave up.”
“Gave up? You could have still asked.”
“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But when I called on Peter, she took me aside and said that I was not allowed to take up your time because you needed to be available when an appropriate gentleman noticed you.”
“As in someone with an estate near here.” Deborah rolled her eyes. “You could have ignored her because I would have danced with you.”
“She threatened to have the Duke of Danby address the matter unless I ceased,” he said quietly. “The one person that I want no difficulties with is the Duke of Danby.”
Deborah snorted. Most of the ton was terrified of her great-uncle, but Deborah was not.
Well, maybe she was, just a little, she silently added. “I can promise you that she told a falsehood.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because she avoids Danby and he was the reason we spent a good portion of the Season hiding away in our house.”
“That is why I did not see much of you at the beginning of the Season?”
“Yes. He has a fondness for arranging marriages for his great nephews and nieces. Mother hoped that if he did not see us that he would forget us. The last thing she would ever allow was for Danby to learn that someone wanted to dance with me, even if it was only out of friendship, because he would see it as courtship.”
“Yes. Well, they both rather scare me, if you must know.”
Deborah crossed her arms over her breasts and slouched with a harrumph then relaxed against the chaise, the very chaise from her chamber that had been brought down so that she would have a place to sit on a pleasant day because she hated being cooped up inside.
And, since she still could not sit in a chair because for some reason the foot should not be lower than the rest of her body while it healed, she spent a good deal of time on the chaise that was brought outside each day and returned to the parlor each night, unless it was raining, of course.
She glanced over at Percy and shook her head. Between her mother and her great-uncle, she would never find happiness.
Peter had once warned him about his mother and how her daughters were to marry men who had homes no more than half a day’s drive from hers. Percy had thought it ridiculous, but apparently, she was quite serious as he had not even been allowed a country dance with Deborah.
However, he had not known about the Duke of Danby, which could have created quite a different difficulty. Percy had wanted a dance, not a betrothal.
He had also not wanted just any dance but a waltz because he hadn’t been certain how he had felt about Deborah last spring and it had been rather discombobulating.
If he were to be honest with himself, he’d been confused and uncertain since last summer.
Each year since he and Peter had completed their studies, Percy would visit for a month or six weeks in the summer, avoiding house parties and matchmaking mamas.
They would hunt, fish and eventually travel to Edinburgh where they enjoyed and embraced their bachelor state in as many taverns and brothels as possible.
In the years that he had known Deborah, she had been a girl who might be considered pretty, but shy and always with her nose in a book.
But something happened to her between the time that he had last seen her at six and ten and when he visited the summer that she had turned seven and ten.
She became quite beautiful. Her blonde hair curled more and her green eyes became jade.
The roundness that she’d once had disappeared and her cheekbones became prominent.
Her lips had also become quite kissable.
He left that summer thinking that Deborah might just be one of the most beautiful women he knew and had not envied her brothers because when she did finally have a Season, rakes and lords alike would flock to her.
It was a shame he had considered her little more than sisterly or he would have been one of those men.
At least, those had been his thoughts until the following spring when he first saw her standing in a ballroom wearing a pale green gown with delicate white lace trim along the bodice, bringing attention to her full breasts.
When had Deborah gotten breasts?
Well, he had noticed them about the time he decided that her lips were kissable, but he hadn’t realized how perfect they were until she was dressed for a ball.
Her blonde hair had been pulled back, but curls escaped and brushed her shoulders, exactly where he would not mind placing a kiss.
And that was when he began to lust after Lady Deborah Storm, the younger sister of a close friend, and Percy knew that he was damned.
He still desired her, which was the very reason he had followed the family to their country home after they’d been allowed to leave following her fractured ankle, just so he could spend more time with Deborah.
As he was usually here in the summer, nobody thought it odd and he certainly did not want them to think that he might care for her more than before.
At least, not until he knew what he wanted.
Was it an infatuation, a desire, or lust that would rage and burn out quickly or were his feelings for Deborah deeper?
He needed to know and he could not wait until next spring and hope that he might be granted a dance.
It was the very reason that he had sat with her outside every day.
When Peter questioned him, Percy had claimed that he felt bad for her since nobody else was keeping her company and because he was partly to blame.
Peter had believed him as had her sisters.
Only Deborah’s mother watched him with narrowed eyes.
If his emotions were deeper, he would have to contend with her.
“I did want to dance with you,” he insisted.
“It is what you promised,” she reminded him.
“It was not because I promised either. I wanted to dance with you.”
She lost all humor and stared at him.
What if she could never think of him as more than her brother’s friend, her friend?
His heart sank.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her jade eyes staring into his.
Percy gulped. “It is just that…well…I find that…” Bloody hell. What was wrong with him?
“What do you find?” Deborah asked with a touch of encouragement in her tone.
“That I may have developed a liking for you more than I had previously.”
She started to smile but it quickly disappeared. He hoped that she hadn’t been about to laugh at him.
Yet, even if that were the case, he was going to proceed even if she avoided him from this day out. Except, Deborah couldn’t avoid anyone, or get away, while her ankle was still healing.
“I find myself attracted to you. You are quite beautiful, enjoyable to spend time with, and yes, I do like you very much. If I am to be honest, I was rather surprised, and that was why I wanted to dance with you. A waltz to be specific. I had wanted to hold you and waltz through the ballroom in hopes of determining if my emotions were that of a man who should be asking permission to court you, or if it is merely a deep friendship that we share.”
Bloody hell! He had said far more than he originally intended, but at least it had been said and now Deborah could either accept him or reject him.