Meet Me at Dawn

Chapter Twenty-six

I meandered slowly through the candle-lit corridors making my way to my room. The painstakingly placed candles left a faint amber glow to light my way through the darkness. Most were burning low, and I imagined that a maid would be walking through soon enough to replace them. My sluggish pace allowed me to mull over my tryst with the unknown male guest at the country party. It could have very well been Sutherland, but then again, there were many other gentlemen in attendance that could have wandered off from the dancing. Not all men were trapped by the marriage minded mammas looking for an eligible nobleman of the ton to marry off their daughters. However most of the men in attendance were not of the mind to be married off so quick. Wise were the ones who did not wander the halls alone, who did not get caught in a compromising tryst with a young conniving chit.

I touched my fingertips to my lips, remembering the way his lips felt on mine, tasting the sweetness once again. I recounted the scene in my mind repeatedly, the feeling of warmth, the sweetness of his taste, and the intrigue of not knowing him. It could not have been Sutherland. I could not accept that it was him, not after he left me standing in the crowded ballroom. That particular memory brought me back to the present and I shook my head as if to dismiss it entirely.

I could still hear the strong note of the violin and gales of laughter, indicating that many were deep in their cups by now. The party would go on for another few hours and I doubted that anyone noticed my absence. At least that was my hope. Lady Wilmington was likely with the other dowagers gossiping the night away. Westover had likely gone back to his wife, especially now in her more delicate state. I let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the night lifting from my being. I was truly tired. Turning the handle to enter my room, I began undoing the pins holding up my coiffeur. It felt wonderful to remove the pins that held my tresses which fell cascading down my back and shoulders.

I glanced at the vanity as I walked through the doorway. I could hardly recognize the reflection staring back at me--pinkened swollen lips that were slightly parted and masses of tumbling hair framing my face, eyes that were more cat-like than I remembered. As I continued to stare, the door slowly shut, revealing the man who stood there.

Sutherland.

Damn and blast, I thought. Sutherland perpetually had a way of appearing at the most inopportune times. I did not wish to quarrel any longer with him tonight. My only wish was to retire and drift off into a blissful sleep.

Our eyes locked in the reflection of the mirror. The room was dimly lit, yet I could see the liquid silver of his eyes. His focus on me was eerie, almost as if he had never seen me before. He studied my figure intently, lingering on the rise and fall of my chest before meeting my eyes once again. I studied him carefully in return, unwillingly admiring the fit of his trousers and the muscles of his forearms that were left bare by rolled up sleeves. He had discarded his coat somewhere between the ballroom and my room and his hair was unkempt, as if he, or someone else, had been running their fingers through it repeatedly.

I was the first to speak. " I believe you are aware that it is highly inappropriate for a gentleman to be in a young woman's room alone. At night." I paused, watching his features change and then assume an air of nonchalance. "This would most definitely keep the tongues wagging about our affairs far longer than either of us would like," smirking as I moved further into the room, hoping to change the atmosphere. I wanted desperately to remove the remaining pins holding tightly to my tresses and get out of this blasted dress. The mutititude of petticoats and skirts was highly inconvenient.

"I would like to speak with you," he announced, watching as I ran my fingers through my collapsed coiffure to find the remaining pins.

"This could not wait until the morrow?" I asked, beginning to become exasperated with his presence. He shook his head and moved closer to me still, reaching out to still my movements, bringing my hands down to hold in his own. I was suddenly concerned with his strange behavior. Never had he been so serious in my interactions with him. It felt absolutely odd to not be exchanging barbs in our conversation. With a raised brow, I looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to speak.