Prologue #2
His eyebrows lifted just a little, a warmth in his smile that sent fire into his eyes.
Beatrice’s heart began to pound, her breathing quickening as he moved closer, his hands settling at her waist. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up, waiting for him to brush his lips against hers in what would be her very first kiss.
This was all most astonishing, most extraordinary, and yet she could not resist it.
Her mother and brother would expect her to behave appropriately, to stay back from a situation such as this, and indeed, to run from it as any young lady ought, but she could not.
Not when her heart begged her to linger.
“I must tell you something, Miss Williams.” He was whispering now, his breath hot on her cheek, his fingers clasping her tightly. “I am a gentleman uninclined towards any sort of feeling or the like but you… You have quite captured me, I fear.”
Her eyes flew open, astonished by what he said. Could she trust him? Dare she trust that he spoke the truth?
“You will think me foolish, no doubt, when we are not long acquainted, but I am afraid that my heart is quite taken with you, Miss Williams,” he said, still speaking in such a soft tone, each word wrapped around her heart and held her there, tied to him.
“I fear that I may be already falling in love with you.”
Before she could respond, his lips were on hers.
It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before, and overwhelmed by all that she felt, Beatrice put out her hands and clung to him.
Her hands went to his shoulders as he lingered, the kiss burning her senses, searing her lips, sending fire right through her.
And then, he stepped back.
Beatrice swayed, and his hand was back at her waist, the other capturing her hand.
“Forgive me,” he rasped, as she blinked to clear her vision. “These last few weeks, whenever we have been in company, I have battled with the desire to kiss you.”
“I – I am glad you did.”
The corner of his mouth quirked and he lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“You spoke of being in love, Lord Bradford. I must tell you, I – ”
“Beatrice?”
She gasped, her hand pulling from Lord Bradford’s.
“I will take my leave through another door,” he said, smiling at her as if it was quite all right that someone should be calling for her when she was standing here alone with him.
“I do hope… well, that is to say, I will speak with you again, Miss Williams.” He reached out his hand and touched her fingers with his for only a moment as if he could not help but do so. “Beatrice.”
Her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, leaving her quite alone.
Hearing her name being called again, she lifted her chin and tried to steady herself, praying that her brother would not notice the heat she felt burning in her cheeks.
Making her way to the door, still trembling with all that Lord Bradford’s kiss had done to her, she stepped back into the room as quietly as she could.
“There you are.” Her brother was frowning, stepping towards her with long strides. “One moment you were dancing and then – ”
“I stood on the hem of my gown,” Beatrice said, interrupting him. “I felt so very embarrassed that I had to step out for a few minutes.”
To her relief, her brother did not seem to think much – nor care much – for this explanation.
With a nod, he took her arm and then walked her back to the other side of the room.
“With the dancing concluded, we will need to return home. It has started to snow again.” He threw her a glance.
“I presume you have managed to fix whatever damage was done to your gown?”
“Easily enough, with a hairpin,” she answered, wincing inwardly at the lie that came so quickly to her lips. “I apologize for my delay in returning to you.”
Lord Warwickshire nodded but said nothing more, returning her to their mother, who stood in conversation with another.
Beatrice did not need nor want to say anything, standing beside her mother with her hands clasped in front of her and letting her thoughts linger on Lord Bradford.
The way he had kissed her, the boldness of it, and the promise in his words had set her heart alight.
Could it be that she might have found the gentleman she would one day call husband?
It seemed like a preposterous, ridiculous dream, and yes, she had to admit there was a part of her that feared he had only said such a thing to steal a kiss, but what if he had been genuine in all that he had said?
Could it be that she might find herself happy even before the London Season had begun?
I have never felt such wondrous sensations before.
Reaching up absently, Beatrice touched her lip with one finger, recalling just how Lord Bradford had kissed her so very gently and yet, with such passion.
He had said that he had wanted to do so for some time and that, in itself, made her smile.
To know that she had drawn a gentleman’s attention and that he now thought himself beginning to be in love with her was extraordinary indeed!
Now, she considered, all she had to do was wait for his return.
Christmas was still some days away, and knowing that he was to reside with his aunt and uncle for the festivities, Beatrice hoped there would be no delay in his coming to speak with her again.
Mayhap she would find her heart happy before the year was out!
The hopeful smile on her face lingered as they returned home, her mind and her heart filled with none other than Lord Bradford.