~ An Accomplished Lady ~
by
S.
D. Grady
an
excerpt
“I trust your afternoon was spent
pleasantly, Miss Fairweather. It seems to have returned some color to your
cheeks.”
Fiona blushed deeper. “Thank you, my lord. A
pleasant afternoon indeed.” She could not seem to still an odd flutter in
her stomach. “I trust your staff have not put themselves out just for me.”
Fiona was having a difficult time adjusting to this change in her
perception of her traveling companion. When had he become a devilishly
handsome gentleman that made her heart race?
Walter only raised his eyebrow in question.
Fiona gestured to his attire. “Such
formality for a dinner at home,” she mumbled.
Walter looked at his evening wear. He
smiled. “I’m afraid this is old habit. Dinner amongst the ton is
almost always a state occasion.”
Fiona plucked at her dress. For the past few
months she had given little thought to style, she could never get past the
grey.
“You need not worry, Miss Fairweather. I
find that when I am in your company, I notice little else save for your
kind face.”
Fiona looked at Walter. He was serious. No
hint of jest twinkled in his eyes. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper.
Fiona stood for an eternity and tried to fathom just what it was she found
so mesmerizing in his eyes. They, she could swear, held a dangerous
glint--an intent. And it was everything she could do not to ask him what
it was.
Humphries’ “He-hem!” rent the silence.
“Dinner is served, my lord.”
Through the delicious and beautifully served
meal, Fiona’s hands shook. She sat to the right of Lord Rocheford. She
spoke little and evaded his piercing gaze. Her hands reached absently for
an errant strand of hair, but found nothing to pat into place. Tina’s pins
were actually working!
Walter couldn’t help but grinning. She was
like a fresh colt, skittish but curious. It had grabbed him with an iron
vise when she walked into the drawing room. He sensed in her the awareness
he mutually felt for her.
Perhaps she had been more than distracted
during the long journey south. Perhaps her grief was still raw and eating
away at her every thought. And perhaps, he grinned to himself, she was
finally ready to move on with her life.
The sedentary predator in him had come to
life when she had entered the drawing room this evening. Walter responded
instantly to her feminine gasp of delight and the eager way her eyes had
caressed his body. Now he was sitting here contemplating his next move.
What did he want to do? He understood that she was spoken for, but he also
knew that if she had another choice, Fiona had the mind and money to take
the chance. Did he dare put the idea in her mind? He was beginning to
think it a fine idea.
The thought was intoxicating; showing Miss
Fairweather that there was indeed much more to a man and a woman then a
cold contract of betrothal entered into two decades ago. Walter tried to
soothe her nerves throughout the meal with idle chatter. It didn’t appear
to be working. She twitched with every movement he made. Perhaps he would
be a fool to pass up on such an opportunity. He could almost feel her
heart thrumming with anticipation. Dinner could not end soon enough.
When the dessert plates were removed and a
bottle of port placed before Lord Rocheford, Fiona moved to rise. “I’ll
leave you to your port, my lord.”
“Not necessary, Miss Fairweather. I have no
interest in it this evening. I thought I would share your cup of tea, if
that is quite all right?”
Fiona merely nodded and led the way back
into the drawing room. There she considered the possibilities. The room
was papered in white and gold with the satin upholstery and plush
carpeting a deep royal blue with gold accents. As always, elegant and
correct. A chaise stood closest to her, Fiona sank onto it blindly. Why
she would be so distracted she just wasn’t able to work out in her mind.
The door closed behind her with an almost silent click. A heavy weight
settled next to her on the chaise.
Fiona snapped her head around. “Miss
Fairweather,” Walter began. “I find I am thinking about you.”
“You are?” Fiona squeaked.
“Yes. You see, last night you told me that
you must go to Roger Ranly because he was promised to you. You never
mentioned how you felt.”
“Felt?”
“Hmmm,” Walter thrummed deep in his throat.
Walter’s face hovered mere inches from Fiona’s and his green eyes flashed.
“I have become quite fond of you and I wouldn’t want you to do something
so drastic as marry this good gentleman merely out of convention.”
“You wouldn’t?” Fiona felt like an idiot.
All she could think of was his lips and the seductive heat that escaped
them when he breathed.
“I want you to promise me something.”
Fiona nodded, like she was drugged, caught
in the spell of his eyes, breath and teasing lips.
“When you kiss Roger Ranly, just try to
think did it feel something like this…”
~ * ~
Fiona stood in her room and stared into the
flames on the small hearth. Her skin felt flushed, her heart beat with an
odd rhythm and her smile would not wane. Parts of her that she never knew
existed, ached and yearned for the return of his touch.
However, deep in her mind she waged a war of
confusion. The promise to Roger lay there like a leaden weight. And the
memory of a child’s kiss shared with a friend taunted her with its
disinterest.
Was it possible that she would feel this
glorious way when she met Roger again? Or would old ways resurface and
torment her for all her life? She wanted to scream in delight and beat the
pleased look on Lord Rocheford’s face at the same time. What had he done
to her?
What little acceptance Fiona had found for
her future now lay in tatters before her. She was sure sleep would not
find her this night.
