Page 24 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
“Who?” Agnes asked. She tried to think back to see if she’d missed some part of a conversation while she’d been woolgathering.
“Lord Wakefield,” Justine said.
“Yes, I noticed it as well,” Matilda said.
Agnes frowned, glanced across the room to where Fletcher stood watching her. Her foolish heart pounded. Good heavens, but she was becoming as silly as a schoolgirl. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve known each other for years.” They were exaggerating his attentions. “He works with Christopher. If he were interested in courting me, he’d have started a long time ago.” Like he’d said he would do on the night they met. Instead, he gave her one dance a year. And had never even attempted to get her alone again. No, she was the one who’d shown up at his house and begged for a kiss.
Justine and Matilda exchanged glances.
“He came to the poetry reading the other evening,” Justine said.
He had and she’d never seen him attend anything of the sort before. Was he interested in courting her? The mere thought had her heart tripping over itself. No, certainly not. He’d had so much time to express interest in her and never had. Had he not specifically told her that he didn’t touch virgins? So why, after all these years, was he paying closer attention to her?
“Yes, and what did he whisper in your ear?” Matilda asked.
“His favorite of Shakespeare’s sonnets, nothing more.” But even as she said the words, she knew them to be lies. Her cheeks heated with the memory of the deep timbre of his voice so close to her ear, the way his breath sent spirals of warmth curling through her body. The words themselves had felt personal, but she knew that couldn’t be right. Fletcher loved women, but he was all about the seduction. There was no part of him that spoke of adoration and romantic love. In that moment, she realized with alarming clarity that if she weren’t careful she’d fall prey to his charms. She was disgusted with herself that despite her acknowledging the truth of love’s fallacy, she could still succumb to its temptation.
“Honestly, Agnes, every man in this room would court you if you gave any indication you might be interested. Seems as if Lord Wakefield is taking advantage of the fact that Christopher is out of town.”
“Not to mention you flirt with him whereas with other men you are…” Matilda paused as if grappling for the right word. “Well, you can be cold at times.”
Agnes opened her mouth, then shut it. She stared at her friends. Cold. Yes, she could be cold. It was better than being awkward. And it had a tendency to keep most of the lechers away. Not all of them, but most. “You think Lord Wakefield has decided to toss his hat into the ring, so to speak?” Agnes refused to acknowledge the way her heart jumped at the thought. Even if he was interested in her, she did not want to marry. Fletcher was all wrong for her; he was incapable of being faithful. She refused to enter into a marriage like the one her parents had. So she shook her head. “No, he is nothing more than an incorrigible flirt.”
“One who hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you entered the room,” Matilda said.
Agnes dared a glance in his direction and found his hazel eyes locked on her. A slow grin slid onto his face and he winked. Winked! Where anyone could have seen. Warmth flooded her body and heated her cheeks. He was truly scandalous. And she was slightly horrified that part of her loved it. Horrified that it might mean she was more like her mother than she wanted to admit.
“Perhaps you should use this time while your brother is out of town to secure a suitor. One that won’t turn tail and run at the sight of Christopher’s scowl,” Matilda said.
Agnes opened her mouth to disagree, then closed it again. There was no reason to remind her friends about her feeling on matrimony. They tended to not take her very seriously, always insisting that if the right man came along she’d change her mind.
At that moment, Sullivan came to retrieve her for their dance.
“Miss Watkins, Lady Justine,” he said as he bowed. Then he turned his body, his jaw clenched before he nodded slightly. “Lady Matilda.”
“My lord,” Justine said.
Matilda openly glared at him. “Sullivan,” she said.
Agnes knew that her friend did not care for Viscount Glenbrook, but she’d never bothered to inquire why. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that their siblings were married to each other and not so happily. However, because of the family connection, Society dictated they at least acknowledge each other’s company.
“I am assuming you shall be in attendance for Meredith and Charles’s party they’re hosting next month,” he said to Matilda.
“My mother has made it a requirement of me,” Matilda said.
“Splendid. Then I shall see you there,” Sullivan said.
Matilda smirked. “I wait with bated breath.”
He eyed Matilda for a few seconds, the muscles in his jaw clenched again and again before turning his gaze to Agnes. “Miss Watkins, are you ready for our dance?” he asked.
She eyed her friends for a moment, but Matilda showed no sign that she had issue with Agnes dancing with Sullivan. So, Agnes smiled at his friendly face. Though they both had brown hair and were both tall, Sullivan was not nearly as broad as Fletcher. Her friend was lean and his facial features spoke of his noble birth lines, whereas Fletcher’s features were more angular, sharp as if sculpted by a master’s hand. Sullivan also didn’t have an easy grin available as often as Fletcher’s. No crinkle at the corner of his eyes indicating he found much about life to be humorous and entertaining.
Good heavens, she was mentally cataloging the two men as if they were in competition for her affection, which she knew was categorically false. In a perfect world, she’d feel the same attraction toward Sullivan as she did Fletcher. But she felt nothing for him save friendship.
“You look lovely tonight, Miss Watkins,” Sullivan said.
“Thank you, my lord.” Her greeting sounded false to her own ears. When did she speak to him so formally? “The weather is rather delightful.” She rolled her eyes. Good heavens but she was resorting to trivial subjects. This was her friend, what was the matter with her? He’s not Fletcher.
