Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season #2) - Helen Hardt Page 0,2
ornate double doorway that led to the back terrace. He needed some fresh air.
* * * *
Rose thanked Evan for the waltz and hurried to the ladies’ retiring room to check her appearance. Her pale green satin gown was in fairly good shape, considering she had been wearing it since early afternoon. She fussed with her blond tresses a bit, which were swept atop her head in an elaborate coiffure of cascading curls, and then bit her lips and pinched her cheeks. The midnight meal was only minutes away. Rose was not hungry, but it would be bad form not to attend. She smiled in the looking glass as she thought of her sister, Lily, who had already left the ball with her new husband, Daniel, the seventh Duke of Lybrook. They would no doubt be missing the repast, as well they should. To have a wedding night with the man she loved—Rose envied her sister’s good fortune.
Seven weeks ago the sisters had come to Laurel Ridge with their parents, the Earl and Countess of Ashford, and their brother, Thomas, Viscount Jameson, for a pre-season house party hosted by the Duke of Lybrook. Lily had caught the eye of the duke soon thereafter, and the two had fallen deeply in love. The way they looked at each other took Rose’s breath away. She couldn’t imagine feeling that intensely for someone.
Well, she could. Just not for Lord Evan Xavier. She cared for him and she enjoyed his company…and his kisses. But they didn’t share the ease together that Lily and the duke—Daniel—did. It was still difficult for Rose to call her new brother-in-law by his Christian name. Then again, she and Lily were two very different people. Perhaps Lily, with her disdain for convention and the dictates of the peerage, was just more comfortable using Christian names than she, Rose, would ever be.
Rose took a few deep breaths and walked to the back terrace for some air before the midnight meal. Several couples hid in the shadows, chatting intimately. Some were embracing each other and laughing softly. She walked swiftly away from them, looking for a dark corner where she could be alone with her thoughts for a few moments. She finally settled on a spot against the railing, outside the glimmer of the torchlights. She inhaled the fresh night air, expanding her lungs as much as her corset would allow.
“Good evening, my lady.”
Rose turned, squinting in the dark shadows. About ten feet away from her, concealed in the nightfall, stood Cameron Price. Rose’s skin erupted in tiny bumps and her breath caught. He never failed to affect her, and this evening, dressed formally, he was an intoxicating vision.
Cameron drained the glass of champagne he was holding and shuffled toward her.
“A well-born lady such as yourself shouldn’t be out here unescorted,” he said, the aroma of alcohol on his breath unmistakable.
“Mr. P-Price,” Rose stammered. “I…I was just getting breath of fresh air.”
“Won’t Xavier miss you?”
“I don’t know… I…I’m not wholly his concern.”
Cameron snorted. “He certainly monopolized you on the dance floor this evening.”
Rose’s cheeks warmed. She was thankful for the darkness. “Not many others asked me for a dance.”
“How could they, with him breathing down your neck? He’s the size of a mountain, for God’s sake.”
Rose wrinkled her nose. “You’re inebriated, Mr. Price.”
“Slightly.” He chuckled. “Tell me, would you have danced with another man if he had asked you?”
“Of course,” Rose said. “I danced with my father and my brother, and my cousin’s friend Mr. Landon.”
“You danced with a mister?” Cameron shook his head. “You mean you’ll dance with an untitled gent?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Mr. Landon is an impeccable gentlemen. He owns land here and in the Americas, and he’s a cousin to His Grace.”
“Ah, I see.” Cameron lifted his champagne glass to his lips. “Damn, it’s empty.” He set it down loudly on the railing. “Money is the issue then, as well as blood.”
“Mr. Price,” Rose began, unable to look at him, “I fail to see what—”
“My lady,” Cameron interrupted, “would you have danced with me, had I asked you?”
Rose turned. His silver eyes penetrated her flesh like daggers. She felt defenseless. All those heart-wrenching hours spent at the pianoforte with him, fighting her attraction to him and telling herself they had no future, flooded into her like a tidal wave. He had treated her with such disdain, never missing an opportunity to make a snide comment about their different stations. Was it possible he felt an attraction too?