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Chapter Four

Percy was intolerably bored…with the music, the laughter, the chatter, and general air of merriment to be found at Viscountess Ensley’s ball. Leaning on the balustrade on the upper bowers, he watched the throng, a bemused realization rattling around in his thoughts. No one quite saw Miss Frederica Williams in the same light that he did. It had been three days since she tested his will and restraint with that ridiculous bid to get him to teach her about seductions and whatnot. But her words that she was unseen and mockingly called a wallflower had been rattling around in his head.

He watched the merriment, staying away from the dance floor himself, curious to see if he could ferret the object of her affections. If she did not tell him, careful observation would reveal it, then he would make his move to secure the gentleman for her. Percy glowered with slow rage as he had watched as she was snubbed repeatedly.

The dancefloor had been open now for over two hours, and several ladies had danced until they wilted on the chaise longues flushed against the far wall. Frederica had not been asked to the floor once. And on her face, only a fool would not be able to see the longing to partake in the frivolities herself. At times she tapped her feet to the beat of the orchestra, tipped on her toes to see over the heads of several ladies and gentlemen, and even delicately fanned her face to cool herself from that exertion. He did not like the hopeful light that sometimes shone on her face when a gentleman approached. But it was never her that was led to dance, but another lady close by.

He had become painfully aware that his ward was lonely, possibly bored by the outings of the ton.

I’ve failed you, Freddie.He wanted to slam his fist into the Corinthian column to his left.

Yet, she attended each and every social event suggested by Aunt Cecily. Why? She had not seemed keen on marrying as was expected of a young lady of her background and connections and passionately fought him on the matter.

It jolted him then to realize that their fights were all private. Outside of that library where she often stood toe to toe with him, infuriating and captivating him in equal measure, Freddie simply went along with his aunt’s plans to present her to society. Though Aunt Cecily was a formidable matron who believed she knew the best for everyone, Freddie was…well, she was Freddie. He had always thought her clever with intelligent wit and manners, able to adroitly manage those who thought they were managing her.

Hell, or is it that the chit is only adept at managing me? What a rather unnerving thought.

The lavender perfume of Countess Bartlett reached his nose before her body pressed against his side.

“There you are,” she murmured throatily, running a prettily manicured finger along his jacket seam and discreetly squeezing his arm. “I had wondered if I would see you tonight.”

“Oh?”

“You promised to call upon me last night. You did not.”

He did not remove his regard from Freddie as he answered, “I am certain you got my note of apology and the ruby necklace.”

“I did.” Still, the lady sounded piqued.

“What is it about that mouse that has captured your attention so?”

That bit of spite pulled his gaze to the countess who stared up at him with coquettish smugness.

“You will always be civil when it comes to my ward,” he said with icy civility. “I assure should you earn my displeasure in this manner, countess, you will sorely come to regret it.”

Her eyes widened, and she flushed, chastised. “I was not being rude, Wolverton. Have you not noticed she is amongst several ladies not asked to dance once?”

He carefully composed his expression. “I have noted it.”

“Well,” the countess said with a short laugh, her eyes firing with spiteful defiance. “With all those other beautiful ladies to choose from, which gentleman would waste his sought-after hand to offer it to little Freddie?”

“Because she is my ward.”

“That alone is not a distinction to tempt any man. As you are one of those creatures yourself, beguiled by beauty, surely you know it. What tempts the rake in you?” she asked, leaning even closer to him so that her bounteous decolletage brushed against him, clearly her bid to entice him to her bed tonight. “Would any lady garbed in that god awful virginal white frock capture your regard?”

Percy said nothing to that, ignoring the speculation in the countess’s expression as her gaze volleyed from Frederica to him.

“Dance with me,” she said, leaning to whisper into his ear. “Then you may escort me home.”

“Not tonight, countess.” Perhaps never. He faltered under that awareness, ignoring her affronted gasp. With a sense of bemusement, Percy realized that despite the heavy ache in his cock, he’d not had a lover for several months. There had been many flirtatious dances and sensual come-hither flirtations, but all had left him unstirred. A few days ago, the countess had seemed like an appealing bed partner to break his disinterest. Now he was bored with the chase and uninterested.

As he looked down at her, he smiled, hoping to ease the sting of his rejection. “If you will excuse me,, I will call upon you at another time.”

She stared at him for a long moment before glancing down to the crowded ballroom, presumably in Freddie’s direction. An odd smile hovered about the countess’s mouth. “I do not believe you will, Percival. A great pity, I had quite looked forward to being your lover.”

And perhaps morelingered unsaid.

“You will do me the honor of remaining friends,” he said, taking her gloved hand and pressing a kiss upon it.


Tags: Alyssa Clarke Historical