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He observed Agnes, a vision of grace and beauty. Her gown, a delicate confection of pale lavender silk, flowed elegantly, accentuating her curves with modesty. Intricate lace detailing adorned the bodice, highlighting the refinement of her taste. Her ebony curls were intricately styled, adorned with delicate flowers that seemed to mirror the bloom of her presence.

She’s a vision tonight, a dream I can almost touch.

It had to be tonight. He wanted her badly, and he had to let his intentions be known.

No one would take Agnes from him. He would not allow it.

And so with a small, mischievous smile that was only for Agnes, Matthew bowed slightly and watched with glee as a tint of pink, the color of red roses, crept up her chest and cheeks.

He could almost hear her sharp intake of breath as she also curtsied, her eyes twinkling.

Ah, he could see it. The attraction everyone saw, the way they said he looked at her—he could see it all now.

CHAPTER14

How she wished she could just disappear. These balls were beginning to get tiring, honestly.

By the window in the grand ballroom, Agnes and her mother found themselves ensnared in a conversation with Lady Egerton.

Agnes did not want to be anywhere near the two gossips, but she had no choice.

Lady Egerton turned to Mary with a disapproving glance at Agnes. “My dear Mary, I must say, your Agnes seems rather aloof tonight. Could it be that her demeanor is the reason the Earl of Egerton has not yet declared his intentions?”

Oh, goodness.

Agnes rolled her eyes.

Mary stiffened. “Nonsense! My Agnes is a proper young lady. If Lord Egerton is hesitating, it’s not her fault.”

The Dowager Countess of Egerton only raised an eyebrow in indignation. “Well, my dear, one cannot deny the importance of a lady’s charm in such matters. Perhaps if Agnes were a bit more engaging, Ewan would be more inclined to act.”

Engaging? Was that what they called it?

Agnes scoffed inwardly at the absurdity of the accusation. She turned her gaze toward where Ewan stood, preening in front of a mirror. A self-absorbed display that had persisted for more than five minutes.

How could one engage with such a man?

“Agnes is not the cause of Lord Egerton’s hesitation. If he’s truly interested, he should declare himself without waiting for her to dance attendance,” Mary Pilton declared like the snobbish aristocrat she prided herself to be.

No. His indecision has nothing to do with my demeanor and everything to do with his self-absorption.

The women’s words buzzed around her like a persistent hum, but Agnes refused to let them undermine her sense of self. She glanced once more at Ewan, reaffirming her conviction that his reluctance had roots in his own nature, not hers.

And then, she turned away.

Like glue, her eyes snagged on sensual brown ones.

Matthew.

The man was such a beautiful being. And the way he looked at her?

Goodness, he made her think of things a proper lady should never be caught thinking of. A blush rose to her cheeks. She tried to look away but couldn’t. She had been captured by Matthew’s hot gaze. Her mother’s talk with Lady Egerton turned to gibberish in her ears.

He smiled at her, and she smiled softly back.

If there was one man she wanted with her every breath, it was the Duke of Huntington, not pretty Ewan.

Then, Matthew started to approach Agnes with an air of confident allure, his eyes never leaving hers, even as he weaved through the crowd, tracing the contours of her figure with a subtle, seductive intensity.