Chapter Seventeen
Pere tugged her white kidskin gloves, the soft leather snagging on her trembling fingers as she watched Lord Hawthorne stride through the Smythe ballroom.
His broad shoulders carved a path through the candlelit crowd, his confident gait stirring memories of their waltz.
She twisted her lips, willing his thoughts to reveal themselves, her heart traitorously quickening.
“You’re staring, my dear,” Anna whispered, her eyes glinting with mischief over the rim of her fan. “You may fool Henley, but not me. I saw Hawthorne linger over your hand at Drury Lane, and that waltz tonight? Positively scandalous.”
Pere’s cheeks burned, a flush creeping up her neck. “What are you implying?” she asked, her tone sharper than intended, betraying her nerves.
Anna grinned wider, undeterred. “Only that you’ve snared the one rake worth reforming. He’s no Ramsford, darling. But how do we nudge this romance along before Henley’s right hook finds him?” She arched a brow, her playful challenge echoing their banter at the Devertan ball.
A smile tugged at Pere’s lips, unstoppable as she considered just how observant her sister-in-law truly was. “You’re incorrigible,” she murmured, but her heart danced at Anna’s approval.
“And that’s answer enough,” Anna said, patting her hand. “Now, shall we get this cart moving, hmm? Or are you still plotting to charm Lord Woodbury?” Her tone baited, but her eyes flicked toward the dance floor, where Woodbury stood, laughing with a group of dandies.
Pere shook her head, her curls dancing against her cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said, dodging Anna’s probe, though her gaze strayed back to Lord Hawthorne.
“Don’t perhaps me. I know you too well,” Anna replied, nodding ahead.
A gentleman—Lord Merligh, Pere recalled—approached, requesting a dance.
She smiled, offered her hand, and followed him to the dance floor.
The reel’s lively steps allowed little talk, but her mind wandered, her eyes searching with every turn.
There, by Henley’s side, Lord Hawthorne stood, his gaze locking on to hers, intense and unspoken.
Boldness surged, reckless and thrilling.
She’d let him pursue, but oh, how easily she’d be caught.
The reel ended, and Merligh escorted her back to Henley. Pere turned to Lord Hawthorne, raising a brow, daring him to act. Say something. Her thoughts were so loud she wondered if he heard her.
“Lady Peregrine, may I escort you to the refreshment table?” Hawthorne asked a moment later, his voice smooth as velvet, as if reading her unspoken challenge.
His eyes held a glint of mischief, mirroring her own.
“Of course.” Pere placed her hand on his and watched as Anna gave a small grin that only grew as they walked away.
Yes, she’d have to confide fully in her friend soon.
A smile teased her lips at the irony of it all.
Only last season the same situation had arisen, only it was Anna who was keeping a secret from Pere, her interest not in the brother officially courting her, but the one who had secretly stolen her heart.
Henley. How Pere had missed it, she still couldn’t fathom.
She gave a soft giggle at the memory of Anna confessing, and the shock Pere had felt in that moment.
“Care to share your thoughts? They seem diverting,” Lord Hawthorne murmured, his breath brushing her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
Pere shook her head, her curls grazing her flushed cheeks. “Just a memory of Anna and Henley. Did you suspect them at the house party?” she asked, meeting his gaze, curious if he’d seen what she hadn’t.
“Ah, the infamous house party. Quite the scandal, wasn’t it?” He chuckled, the low sound vibrating through her. “I had my suspicions from the start. Their glances were … telling. Didn’t you notice?”
Pere groaned, her lips quirking. “No,” she admitted, a touch of chagrin coloring her tone.
“Wait. You weren’t aware?” Hawthorne’s brow arched, his grin striking in its glory, eyes twinkling with amusement.
“No. Apparently, I’m not as observant as I think.
Anna told me days into the house party, and it had been simmering for ages.
” She glanced at the refreshment table as they passed it, its crystal punchbowls glinting under chandeliers.
Hawthorne seemed to forget the punch, and her heart lifted at his distraction.
“I couldn’t believe how blind I’d been. It was a love match from the start, and I adore them for it. ”
“Blindness in love is a common affliction,” Lord Hawthorne said, his tone softer, almost intimate. “But you see clearly now, don’t you?” His gaze held hers, searching, as if daring her to admit more.
“Perhaps,” she replied, her voice teasing, though her pulse raced.
“It’s quite the crush tonight,” he said, his gaze flickering from the glittering chandeliers to her eyes. “Shall we escape for air, Lady Peregrine?”
Her heart pounded, a traitor to her resolve. “Yes,” she breathed, following him through arched doors to the balcony, its stone balustrade kissed by moonlight.
She prayed he’d seek a shadowed corner, despite Henley’s warnings and the danger to her reputation.
The night air was a crisp respite from the ballroom’s cloying scent of beeswax and perfume.
Pere released his arm, stepping to the balustrade, her gloved hands gripping the cool stone.
As she glanced down, the height unsettled her and she stepped back—directly into Gabriel’s chest. She froze, her body alive with sensation, his warmth seeping through her periwinkle gown, his hands gently grasping her elbows, holding her close yet ready to release.
Though she knew she should move, the words didn’t produce any action, however, rather, she closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of him, his steady heartbeat against her back.
“If you look up, on the left is the Big Dipper, and if you follow it, the North Star, just setting,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, one hand pointing skyward. His ingenuity cloaked their closeness, and she silently applauded it.
“I see,” she said, breathless, her thoughts consumed by his solid presence. “Do you often look at the stars, my lord?”
He laughed softly, the sound thrilling her to her core. “No, but I wanted an excuse to hold you close.” His murmur grazed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Oh? Is that so?” Her voice was barely a breath, her heart galloping.
“Yes. And I’m curious for your response, my lady.” He squeezed her elbow gently, his fingers a warm promise. “Your opinion carries weight in how I proceed.”
She swallowed. “I’m not trying to escape … am I?” she teased, her voice a tremulous whimper, bold yet vulnerable.
“True…” Lord Hawthorne stepped back, and she ached at the loss, but he grasped her hand, tugging her toward the ballroom.
Her heart pinched—had she misread him? Fire flared in her chest, her fingers twitching to pull away, when he spun her into a shadowed alcove, velvet curtains blocking all but a sliver of moonlight.
Before she could form a question, his lips captured hers.
His arm circled her waist, pulling her flush against him, his heat searing through her gown.
His other hand trailed up her arm, a teasing whisper of touch that sparked shivers, settling at her nape, fingers tangling in her curls.
His lips claimed hers, soft yet demanding, his tongue flickering in a dance of advance and retreat, coaxing a moan from her throat.
Pere refused to be passive; rather she answered his kiss, her arms winding around his neck, fingers threading through his silken hair.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through her, his kiss deepening with a possessive edge.
His hand at her waist clutched her tighter, fingers digging into her hip, then caressing, his heartbeat pounding against hers.
She arched closer, her body craving more, her fingers tracing the taut muscles of his shoulders, feeling them flex under his coat.
“You think you can reform me, Peregrine?” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with desire. “Or do you just want to burn with me?”
She gasped, pulling back to meet his gaze, her lips tingling. “I’m no fool. If I burn, it’s by my choice.”
His eyes darkened, and he kissed her again, harder, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pressing her closer.
“Then choose, my lady,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck, sending sparks down her spine.
“I think I’ve made my decision quite clear,” he murmured against her lips, then shifted.
Her eyes flickered open, watching as his gaze seared hers with warmed confession. She blinked, torn between wanting to kiss him again and needing to offer her own admission.
“I know she went this way,” Anna’s voice sliced through the haze of passion, sharp and searching.
Pere’s breath hitched.
She looked toward the curtain hiding them, then back to Lord Hawthorne, his eyes still ablaze with desire. “Anna,” she whispered, glancing back at the sliver of light piercing the velvet curtains shielding their sin.
He paused, then deftly righted her gown’s askew shoulder, his touch lingering as he tucked a few curls behind her ear.
His thumb grazed her swollen lower lip. “Gabriel,” he murmured, raw. “For you, I’m merely Gabriel.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a vow unspoken.
Glancing through the curtains, he gently pushed her into the dim hall, the ballroom’s glow a return to propriety.
Pere steadied her breath, fighting a wild grin as she walked sedately back, her lips still burning, her heart alight with a dangerous hope.
She had begun the season with the intention of reforming a rake; little did she know she’d befriend one instead, and that would do something impossible—reform them both.
Taking a sobering breath, she stepped into the bright light of the ballroom and skirted the edge, scanning the sea of humanity for Henley.
Upon spotting him, she made a detour to the refreshment table, her and Gabriel’s original destination.
She gave a soft smile to herself, a small shiver of delight teasing up her spine at thinking his name.
Lifting a glass of lemonade, she forced a composure she didn’t feel, and started toward her brother, who had apparently spotted her and was walking toward her.
“Henley,” she said.
He regarded her, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if determining if she were hiding something.
“Pere,” he greeted, paused, and then closed his mouth.
The silence stretched on for a few moments.
“I … don’t need to know now but, please, do not disappear.
I don’t think anyone else noticed but we’re trying to save your reputation, not question it further. ”
Pere wanted to give a hint, to tell her brother that he could expect an important conversation with a friend, but she hesitated. This was not the time or place, too many listening ears and wandering eyes sharp for gossip. Tomorrow. It couldn’t come soon enough.