Page 10 of A Lady of Means (Roses and Rakes #1)
Chapter Seven
Moria paused, collecting herself before turning in the direction of a familiar set of wide shoulders in a red coat and dark hair.
A lump formed in her throat. She’d seen Devyn only four times in person and they’d exchanged numerous letters, she’d conjured him in her dreams and when she was restless in bed alone, but nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh. Here. At a ball.
He began walking towards her too, people in his path clearing out of his way, his hulking strength parting dancing waters.
No.
He wouldn’t.
Wouldn’t he?
“Lady Moria,” Miss Kelley said, looping her arm through Moria’s, “Your brother’s carriage is waiting.”
Moria met the woman’s green eyes and gave her a demure smile. “Of course. I’ll just go and retrieve my shawl.”
Miss Kelley looked down pointedly at the shawl that Moria was already wearing.
She leaned in as though to place a friendly kiss at Moria’s cheek and whispered, “You wanted to bring him out of the shadows for over a year, this is your opening. I’ll buy you some time; but if you’re not in the carriage in five minutes, I’m sending your brother inside to retrieve you. ”
Moria wasn’t sure what the woman expected her to do in a mere five minutes or how she was going to approach Devyn, here, what she’d even say.
Behind her, she heard one of her friends calling for her, but she was borne on an undeniable wind toward Captain Devyn Winter.
She had to reach half the length of the ballroom to get to him, praying all the while he was there for her.
Only her. Marcus had played her false. A second time would be the death of her pride.
She extracted the folded-up letter from her reticule and ripped out the only part she needed to convey her message, so that it would fit in her fist. She busied herself with pretending to be looking for someone in the crowd, not looking where she was going until her dress collided with a heavy boot.
Moria let out a little squeak.
At the movement and the noise, she saw several heads turn to look in her direction. She gave a demure smile and gathered her dress as though startled. Another woman might have found so many unplanned dramatic performances in one evening tiring; but Moria’s heart was racing with excitement.
Words and air whooshed from her as he stood before her, her wrist caught in his grasp.
“My lady, please accept my apologies for my very clumsy friend.”
The red-headed Scot from the inn, Devyn’s usual accomplice, gave her a sheepish and apologetic grin. “If it ‘elps, it were the prettiest dress in the room, my lady. I’m so sorry if I-”
Moria shook her head. She wasn’t looking at the Scot, her eyes were on the man next to him.
The man who’d written her letters and haunted her dreams. She hadn’t dreamed the way his lips twitched to hold back a smile or the way his black eyes weren’t black, they were like the sea at night, flecked with starlight.
She knew that if she pulled at the queue at his nape, the shoulder length strands of his hair would feel like soft temptation in her hands.
“Do the two of you make a habit of ruining ladies' gowns? Seems a rather expensive way of meeting young ladies.”
His lips sprang into a smile. She couldn’t help tracking the movement of those lips she’d come so close to kissing a few times. “There’s only one woman I wanted to get close to.”
“And did it work for you?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.
“You tell me, my lady,” he answered, motioning to the dancing couples in their periphery. “On the dancefloor.”
It was a moment, and it was her choice.
Something by Elgar was playing, one of the songs she knew by heart on her pianoforte. She surely wouldn’t forget that song now.
She could spread the seeds of something that wanted to break through to the surface, something that wanted to grow beyond the reaches of the confines she’d put it in.
She could water his hopes, or she could drown them with a word, a gesture.
If they were seen together, here on the edges of the ballroom much longer, people would start to talk.
Was she prepared to give them more to discuss on the night of her sister’s debut?
“I must offer my sincerest apologies, Captain. My brother is waiting for me in the carriage.”
His face didn’t fall like another man’s might. He took a step closer. “That so, my lady?”
“My lady, are you quite alright?” It was the Duke, coming to stand next to her. His chest brushed against the wing of one of her bare shoulder blades. She closed her eyes and mumbled a curse.
“I was just leaving,” she said, addressing all three men.
“I’ll escort you, then,” the Duke said, very Ducal of him; and although Devyn raised a brow, he didn’t move or object. His eyes fell back to Moria. It was still her choice.
Moria placed her hand in Devyn’s. Warm, capable gloved fingers she knew held tattoos and scars.
Fingers that could hold her and her heart in his hands and not drop them.
She squeezed them, willing him to feel the tension inside her slip through her fingers and pass into his.
There was a knowing spark in his eyes, even more stars coming to life in those black depths, as he gripped the note in her hand.
“A pleasure, Captain,” she murmured, then curtsied.
“All mine,” he said in return, those fathomless eyes and large hands engulfing hers until they let her go.
For now. She wanted to stand right there, engulfed until she was in flames.
She felt the Duke’s impatience as he waited to walk her to Kathleen.
She cleared her throat and looped her arm through the Duke’s.
When she made her exit and retreated home, it was those words that echoed in her head where he’d planted them.
All mine. That’s what she wanted to be. All his.
Moria had to find a way to let him win her, without losing it all.