Ravenwood was keen to learn whether she enjoyed riding and what her feelings were concerning the “alarming” shift in women’s fashion toward even wider panniers.
“The Parisians are mad,” he complained. “Soon there will be no room left for a gentleman to offer a lady his arm. He will at best be restricted to offering her only his fingertips. I feel it is to the detriment of any lady to be required to decorate herself so lavishly. Everyone knows that in the natural world it is the male that displays his feathers to attract a mate and not the other way around.”
Had he been anything less than perfectly serious, she would have laughed aloud at his supercilious manner. If this dandified peacock looked to Percy as his template, he’d sadly missed his mark. Their dance ended with him asking leave to call on her the following day. Knowing her stepmother would have her head if she didn’t, she granted his request. Percy knew the truth, and that was what mattered.
By the time Ravenwood bowed and said his farewell, she’d put her finger on what bothered her about him. He did none of the things she’d expect of a rake—or indeed any man—supposedly interested in a match. Most men openly ogled her more obvious feminine charms with frank delight and made little compliments on her appearance.
Ravenwood had hardly looked at her beyond a cursory glance. As for her reaction to him, there was none. Not that she’d expected any, but it was yet another affirmation of what Percy had said. Truly, their reaction to each other was not a common happenstance. Just thinking about it made her warm all over again.
Papa and Catherine both expressed pleasure over her apparent success with Ravenwood, who had come to speak with them again while she danced with another gentleman. Their joy was tempered, however, by her burgeoning friendship with Lady Montgomery. Between dances, the beautiful redhead introduced her to many of her acquaintances, further broadening her circle. But the fact that she so obviously approved of a match between Eden and Percy was not to be forgiven. Catherine said nothing, but her lips thinned every time the woman’s name was mentioned.
Privately, Eden was elated to have Lady Montgomery as an ally—especially when she extended an invitation to join her for a casual weekly visit. No doubt Percy would be there, as well. And her stepmother. Still, it meant she’d get to see him more often and on friendly ground.
The final dance was called, and Eden found herself once more paired with the handsomest gentleman in England. For a moment, she allowed herself to dream. If they married, she would never again have to endure separation at the end of a ball. She’d ride away with him in their carriage. The curtains would be drawn to conceal the many scandalous kisses they’d share on their way home, and when they reached their destination…
“Your eyes betray your thoughts,” murmured Percy as they joined hands. “As does your pretty blush.”
“You claim to know my thoughts now, do you?”
His gaze intensified. “If I said you were remembering a kiss, would I be wrong?”
“Are you an oracle now to be reading my thoughts as words on a page?” she asked, emboldened enough to laugh despite the warmth creeping up her neck.
A glittering smile lit his whole face at her answer. “I’m pleased you feel no need to deny it.”
“Such presumption,” she teased, careful to keep her voice low enough others wouldn’t overhear. “You assume it is your kiss I recall.”
His grin broadened. “It is not presumption, dear lady, but certainty,” he countered as he turned her about. “I’ll temper my arrogance by telling you I suffer a similar affliction of the memory.”
A thrill shot through her. “Do you?”
“I do.” He fell silent as they interleaved with another couple, but resumed speech after they rejoined. “And a most vexing affliction it is. My thoughts are interrupted with alarming frequency throughout the day, and my sleep is plagued so I awake in such a state of longing that I cannot again find slumber.”
Searing heat unfurled deep in her belly. Despite the sensation, she maintained her light tone. “I’m not entirely certain you should be discussing this malady with me when perhaps a doctor might better serve you.”
“The only physician I require is you,” he murmured, the gravel in his voice betraying his desire. “You are my singular cure, Eden.”
That she should feel so positively indecent in the middle of a crowded ballroom was a measure of his effect on her. Had they been somewhere private, she would have obeyed the impulse to make her dream a reality and kiss him.
Perhaps even more than just kiss.
It struck her how easily she’d made the transition from naïve miss to shameless wanton. Inside her thoughts, at least. Outwardly, no one would ever know how much this man made her want to do sinful things.
No one but him. She suspected he knew exactly what was going on in her head. Another wave of heat rose to engulf her as she wondered whether he was having similar thoughts.
The song’s ending brought their time together to a close. A curtsy, a bow, and it was over.
Desire clung to her like a thick fog as he led her back to her father’s side. The touch of his hand over hers on his sleeve instilled in her a kind of aching hunger. Not gentle but fierce, a need almost. It was as if she would starve without him.
No one else had ever inspired such feelings in her. And she was convinced they never would. It was a sobering thought. Could she bear to marry someone else?
The question lingered in her mind as she watched Percy disappear into the crush. Inside, in her heart of hearts, a tiny voice whispered never.
Chapter Twelve
It took every ounce of Percy’s strength to overcome the urge to turn around, go back, and bend knee right then in front of God and everyone else in the Sheffields’ ballroom. The only thing that stopped him was the need to be sure of her answer before doing so.
Her heart must wholly and beyond all doubt belong to him. He wanted to hear the words from her lips and see the truth of them in her eyes. Then and only then would he declare himself.