Chapter Thirty-Four #2
Cooper jolted and faced him with narrowed eyes. “Half of the ballroom has already done so. Her dance card is full, I can assure you.”
“Commodore Leopold doesn’t seem to agree.”
Cooper’s head snapped up as the blond-haired Sampson in full dress uniform approached and bowed before Lady Jasmine.
“Someone ought to interfere,” Seth said.
Cooper sucked in one of his cheeks in a pout when the Commodore wrote his name on her dance card in a decidedly intimate gesture.
“I didn’t think you were such a coward, Matthew Cooper.”
Cooper turned to him with a lethal expression.
“Not all of us can blaze through a ballroom and steal a lady from a military man, Reeves.” He scowled and grumbled, “Either way, he’s twice my size.”
“I’d place my bet on you. You’re quite the pugilist.”
“Apparently.” Cooper barked a laugh. “I never thought I’d best you in a fist fight.”
“I let you win.”
“And you’re a good man for that.” Cooper grinned and then sobered as Commodore Leopold remained next to Lady Jasmine as he waited for their dance. “You don’t imagine that she’s… interested in him… do you?”
“Do you?” Seth raised a brow.
“No,” Cooper sighed the word and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t think she’s interested in anyone.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Across the ballroom, Cassandra finished her conversation with Lady Worthing and walked in their direction, stopping occasionally to greet acquaintances.
“I’ve been meaning to ask. During the harvest festival, where did you and Lady Jasmine go?”
Cooper finished his glass of champagne and gave him a pointed look. “My whereabouts weren’t the ones that mattered.”
“So you were…?”
Cooper’s eyebrow twitched infinitesimally.
“Dancing.”
Seth grinned.
“Nothing stopping you now, then?”
Cooper finished his champagne and handed the empty glass to a passing servant.
“I’m going to ask her to waltz,” Cooper said decisively.
“A solid first step,” Seth encouraged.
“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll thrash you again.” Cooper pointed to him, then gave a mock salute to Cassandra as he passed her on his way to Lady Jasmine.
“What was that about?” Cassandra asked.
“Nothing for you to worry over.” He smiled. “A conversation between gentlemen. And Lady Worthing?”
She returned his smile. “A conversation between ladies.”
The first notes to a waltz played, and Cassandra turned to him with mischief in her eyes. She curtsied to him. “Would you favor me with this dance, Mr. Reeves?”
He smirked. “Isn’t it scandalous to waltz with your own husband, Mrs. Reeves? And don’t you know that a lady should never ask a gentleman to dance. How many rules of etiquette are you interested in breaking?”
“We’ll see where the night leads,” she teased.
“Very well, my lady.” He offered her his arm. “Far be it from me to refuse you.”
He guided her into the center of the ballroom. One of his gloved hands held the small of her back, and the other held her hand. Her eyes softly locked onto his and he brought her too close and moved with her.
One-two-three, one-two-three.
With each twirl he teased her away, and then brought her closer, and closer each time, until she was within inches of dancing on his toes.
Candlelight reflected like molten bronze in her eyes.
He tried to focus on Cassandra, and not the crowded ballroom, but the familiar sting of apprehension prickled at the top of his spine.
Sensing his unease, Cassandra squeezed his hand and took the lead.
“One-two-three, one-two-three,” she whispered under her breath, and they fell back into step. The room spun around them and he allowed his surroundings to fade away, leaving only music and light, lavender and silk, and Cassandra’s playful smile.
“And now you’re leading me. So bold,” he teased. “What’s next?”
She hummed, contemplating his words. After a moment, she grinned.
“Do you want to find a staircase somewhere?”
“I think not, Mrs. Reeves,” he tsked. “It’s the first place they’ll look. What about a balcony?”
He twirled her, and when he gathered her in his arms, he took the lead once more.
“It’s a full moon tonight,” she whispered. “Perhaps a bench?”
A bolt of lightning went through his chest. His hair stood on end, his heart thumped, his hand tightened on her hip, and he forced out his next breath.
“Outside?”
“It can be done on a chair and a desk.” She rose a brow in challenge. “Why not a bench?”
“There are countless reasons why not.” It baffled him to be the one talking her out of an amorous rendezvous. He spoke the reasons aloud, if only so he could hear them and convince himself why-not.
“We will definitely be caught. They’ll be calling you my Moonlight Mistress in the papers tomorrow.
Almost everyone we know is here—most of our family, including Lord Bolderwood, Adrian, and whatever security he has around.
” He half shuddered. “Those slippers are not meant to be worn out of doors and neither is your dress. Which—need I remind you—you stipulated would remain on until after the ball.”
Stepping closer to him, she danced on her toes to ghost her lips over his ear, her words barely audible over the music. “Don’t you want to give me a baby?”
He tripped over his next step.
Visions danced in his mind, and in a flash, he saw their future. Cassandra rocking a baby with her curls and her eyes. Reading to their child over candlelight. Running through endless fields. Teaching them how to ride, to hunt, to grow, and how to love.
“I want that more than anything.”
It took a tremendous amount of effort to guide her into the last steps of the waltz and not throw her over his shoulder and spirit her away to their carriage. He would prefer to be home, but if his wife wanted moonlight…
“There’s a bench out back past the garden, in the middle of the hedge maze.”
Once the music stopped, Seth guided Cassandra through an ocean of couples preparing for the next dance. Past fluttering fans and footmen alike, Seth led his wife to the edges of the ballroom and toward the back terrace. Desire coursed through him with an exhilarating rush of primal satisfaction.
Cassandra was ready.
“Pardon me, Mr. Reeves,” a voice called softly.
Seth stopped and turned to a tall footman dressed in all black, holding a silver tray with a white card on it.
He lifted the card and groaned.
A summons.
“Lord Bolderwood wishes to speak with me in the library,” Seth grumbled. “Of all the times.”
On the other side of the ballroom, a similar exchange occurred with Cooper. Their eyes met and Cooper nudged his head in a way that seemed to say, ‘I’ll meet you there,’ and left the ballroom.
“Lead the way,” Seth said to the footman.
Before he followed, he turned back to Cassandra, who sighed in resignation. There were few things more unpleasant than disappointment on his wife’s face. With a wicked thought, he knew just how to fix it.
“Cassandra?”
She lifted her eyes to his, and before he could think better of it, he took her face in both hands and planted a kiss on her lips, separating from her mouth with an audible pop.
“I love you, Cassandra Reeves.”
Her amber-brown eyes were wider than he had ever seen them, her face flushed as scarlet as her dress. With the flash of indignation in her eyes, he was going to be in trouble when he got home.
Worth it.
He winked. “Give them something to talk about.”
Before she finished flailing for a response, Seth pivoted and strode from her, following the footman past high class aristocrats, absently noting each of their mixed expressions of disgust and sophisticated outrage.
He side stepped to avoid a gentleman who moved into his path.
Under slate grey hair and sickly skin, Sir Reginald sneered at him.
His curled lip and eyes narrowed, looking at Seth with the same malice that he had before.
Seth left the ballroom, slowed a step and frowned.
Before… when?