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“Can you blame me? Please do not act out of obligation toward me, Thomas. Just because I love you doesn’t mean—” She stepped back, out of the waltz, clasping her hand over her mouth.
All eyes were on them.
Thomas went to her, took her arm. “Come, my lady. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” he said loudly enough for those around them to hear.
He quickly escorted her toward the punch bowl where a group of guests were congregating. He drew a cup for her and then led her to a corner, where they were not likely to be overheard.
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” she said after taking a drink. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”
Thomas brought a finger to her cheek. “I knew you fancied yourself in love with me, Tricia. I figured it was nothing more than infatuation.”
She looked up at him crossly. “If I didn’t love you, do you think I would have let you?—”
“Lower your voice,” Thomas admonished. “Your reputation is at stake, Tricia.”
Tricia drew in a breath.
All Thomas could think about was the plump swells of her bosom as she did so. If only he could have her naked again…
If he married her, he could have her naked in his bed every night.
“You must marry me, Tricia,” he said. “I shall talk to your mother now.”
“Mummy will tell you to talk to Cameron,” Tricia said, “and I beg you not to.”
“I don’t understand. You say you love me?—”
“I do love you, Thomas.” She grabbed his hand. “I know you think me some foolish schoolgirl, but love is love, is it not? I know what I feel.”
Did she, though? She was but a girl of nineteen, and perhaps she’d worshiped him from afar, but she hadn’t given herself a chance to get to know any other young men.
“Perhaps I should make you finish out the season and then ask if you still love me.”
“And you would remain true to me until then?”
Thomas nodded. “Absolutely.” His words were not a lie, for he knew, in his very soul, that every other encounter with a woman he had experienced—and there had been many—paled in comparison to yesterday afternoon with Tricia.
“Fine,” she said. “I shall dance the night away with men who don’t interest me—and continue to do so until the season ends—just so you can be sure that my love for you is real.”
Jealousy punched Thomas’s gut. What had he just agreed to? He hated the thought of Tricia in anyone else’s arms, especially his cousin’s, who Thomas knew was up to no good at this point.
Both Jonathan and Victor Polk had made their interest in Tricia quite clear, as had Lord Edwin Wimbley.
Every eligible bachelor here had looked at her with desire in his eyes. How couldn’t they? She was the belle of the ball. The most beautiful woman at this party, and as the season progressed, Thomas had no doubt she would be the most beautiful woman at all of the parties. She would not lack for attention, and she might very well meet someone she fancied more than him.
“I wish this damned ball were over,” Thomas said through gritted teeth.
“Why? I’m not holding you to anything, Thomas. Shouldn’t you be dancing with others? Two nights ago, you danced with everyone here, save with me of course.”
“No, but I did rescue you from the parapet.”
She softened then, casting her eyes downward. “You did, and I am eternally grateful for that, Thomas.”
“God, the thought of it…” Thomas rubbed his forehead. “If you’d fallen, Tricia… If you?—”
“I say, Ashford,” Lord Edwin Wimbley interrupted the two of them. “Are you to monopolize this lovely young lady all night?”
Tricia turned and smiled. “Of course not, my lord.”
