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“Then perhaps you might honor me with the next dance, Lady Patricia?”
“’Tis I who should be honored.” Tricia slid her gloved hand into the crook of Lord Wimbley’s elbow.
And Thomas stalked out of the ballroom.
30
Tricia wasn’t the slightest bit interested in Lord Wimbley, but she gave him her most dazzling smile. It wouldn’t hurt to make Thomas a little bit jealous, would it?
She could dance with every man here—some even more handsome than Thomas—and her feelings wouldn’t change one bit. Thomas had been her one and only for so long, and one day he would see it as well.
Had she made a mistake, letting him bed her? It had been the most wonderful experience of her life. It had been more than eye-opening. It had been a journey, a voyage into uncharted territories of pleasure and intimacy.
The ground had moved under her…or so it seemed, at least.
She wished only to experience it again and again.
But then…
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thomas striding toward Cameron.
No, he wouldn’t.
Not when she told him?—
“Are you enjoying the ball, my lady?” Lord Wimbley asked.
How many more inane queries must she bat away? Are you enjoying the ball? Are you enjoying the meal? Are you enjoying the estate? Are you enjoying the weather?
She swiftly turned her head around and met Lord Wimbley’s gaze, pasting a smile on her lips. “Yes, of course, my lord. It is quite lovely.”
“You’re a marvelous dancer,” he said.
“Yes, and you are as well.” It was a harmless lie. Wimbley was a bit clumsy, though that could be due to his lanky stature. His feet seemed too big for his body.
He was nice-looking enough, but nothing compared to Thomas.
When the dance finally ended, Tricia curtsied politely and thanked Lord Wimbley, but then she scurried off. She spied Cameron standing and drinking champagne with Rose at his side.
“Cam,” Tricia said, hurrying toward them.
“Yes, Tricia?”
Tricia popped her head from side to side, looking frantically for Thomas. “Has…anyone spoken to you?”
Cameron raised his eyebrows. “Of course, sister. Many have spoken to me this evening.”
“I mean did Thomas—Lord Ashford?—”
Cameron frowned. “No, he hasn’t. I saw him coming toward me earlier, but he got waylaid by a countess who had her daughter on a silver platter.”
“Goodness, Cam.” Rose gave him a good-natured slap on his forearm. “You mustn’t speak of such.”
Cameron let out a short laugh. “This is still all new to me, sweetheart. I’m beginning to see what your sister meant when she called this a thinly-veiled meat market.”
“And I’m sorry I ever told you that,” Rose said.
“Was there something else you wanted, Tricia?” Cameron asked. “Where’s Mummy? You shouldn’t be walking around the ballroom alone.”
