"The evening has been quite a success." Jessica smiled at Angel as they had a brief respite from their admiring suitors. After Jessica had mentioned that they were parched, all the men had offered to get them refreshments simultaneously and then had rushed off to get some.
"I can scarcely believe it," Angel admitted. "I have danced almost every single dance tonight."
"Believe it! You're a tremendous success!"
Her cheeks heated. "Philip doesn't like it."
"Sodding Philip," Jessica said vehemently, making Angel burst into laughter. Her friend smiled sheepishly. "I know he's your intended, but he seems rather disagreeable."
"He is unhappy with me." Despite the topic, Angel couldn't stop smiling. Her mood was too good to let Philip's foul temper bring it down.
"Oh lord." Jessica stiffened, staring at something across the room.
"What is the matter?" Her friend was usually so relaxed, she wasn't sure what to make of her quick change.
"Nothing!" With flushed cheeks, Jessica moved in front of Angel, leaving her back towards the crowd. "Is Nathaniel coming this way?"
She peered around her friend to see Nathaniel winding his way between the guests. His height made him easy to spot as his dark hair reached slightly above most.
"Is he alone?"
"No, there is another man with him." It wasn't anyone she recognised from introductions, and she wondered who it might be. Jessica obviously knew them.
Her friend let out a groan before turning back to face the approaching men, muttering something under her breath. A moment later, Nathaniel and his companion reached them. Both men towered over Angel, and she noted that the newcomer was nearly as handsome as Nathaniel. His dark brown hair was unruly, swept back from his brow in a style that seemed careless but probably took a fair amount of preparation. They made introductions. He was Jacob Hurst, the Earl of Wortham, and apparently an old friend of the Howerty family.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord." Angel curtsied.
"The pleasure is all mine," Lord Wortham replied with a dazzling smile, his blue eyes glittering.
There was a clattering noise by her side, and she realised Jessica had dropped her fan. Lord Wortham quickly bent to pick it up and handed it to her friend with a teasing grin.
"I believe you dropped this."
Jessica all but snatched the fan out of his hand with a terse, "Thank you."
The gentlemen who had been hovering around them most of the evening chose that moment to return with refreshments, making Angel feel as if they were beset by a murder of crows flapping their tailcoats in the wind. Her throat dry, she accepted a drink from one man. The ballroom was hot and crowded, even with the doors to the terrace and garden wide open. Nathaniel and his friend remained in the group, joining in the conversations. It was interesting to see the change in her usually graceful friend as Jessica dropped her fan several times, almost spilt the contents of her glass over her dress, and stepped on the toes of several gentlemen.
There were too many people gathered in too small a space, and after a short while, Angel excused herself and walked out onto the terrace for some fresh air. Crowded rooms always made her uneasy. It was wonderful to step outside, where a light breeze played with the leaves of the trees growing in the garden.
"I don't like what you're doing."
She spun around at the terse voice, coming face to face with Philip. With his brow knotted and his eyes dark, he looked far from pleased.
"Pardon?" She backed away from the doors leading to the ballroom. If he was about to cause a scene, she'd rather not have an audience.
"You are flirting with every man in attendance!" he snapped, following her until they stood by the terrace railing.
"That's rather unfair," she said. "I am merely enjoying myself and dancing. There is no flirting involved."
"Don't try to fool me. You are hoping to make a more advantageous match. I knew it was a mistake for you to have a season." He pushed his face close to hers. He was so close she could feel his sharp breath on her face, and it made her skin crawl. "You are mine, Angel, and don't you forget it."
He leaned forward to kiss her, but she turned her head to the side so his lips landed on her cheek instead. He took a step backwards.
"You never let me kiss you."
"It's not proper," she mumbled. "Not until we're married."
"No one will say anything if we steal a kiss or two before the marriage."
He was just about to attempt another when voices drifted through the air. Someone was coming out onto the terrace. With a curse, he stepped away from her. A moment later, a small group came outside, probably in search of the same reprieve from the heat inside that had led Angel outside. With a disappointed grunt, Philip turned around and went back inside. Drawing a shaky breath, Angel silently thanked the small group for arriving and sending him away. She ought to return to the ball, but she wanted a moment of peace, so she remained on the terrace.
He should stay inside. Nathaniel knew this. And yet he found himself drawn outside to the terrace where he'd seen Angel disappear. She had been outside for quite a while now without returning. At first, he thought she might have intended to sneak a kiss with her betrothed as Chettisham had followed closely behind her, but the man had returned shortly after without her.
I just want to make sure she's all right. She's a family friend. It rang untrue even to him, but he refused to consider any other possibilities. Making his way outside, he was so busy scanning the terrace for Angel that he didn't notice the woman on her way inside, and they bumped into each other. He recognised her as Lady Amelia, considered by many the most popular young lady of the season. They had danced on a few occasions and he quite liked her, but tonight he did not have time for pleasantries.
Lady Amelia curtsied. "My lord."
"Lady Amelia." He sketched a bow even as his eyes strayed behind her to search for the one he truly wished to see. Fortunately, she appeared as disinterested in having a conversation as he was and she quickly slipped inside.
"Nathaniel?" Angel's soft voice was a siren's call from the other side of the terrace and his feet steered him towards her. "Did you need a spot of air, too?"
She stood by the edge of the terrace, her hands on the balustrade. Coming to stand next to her, he leaned his hips against the railing, wondering what he had planned when coming out here. Nothing. He had planned nothing. When she had not returned inside, he had worried about her. Chettisham wasn't known to be the most pleasant of men. That the man was intended to marry Angel left a sour taste in his mouth. It wasn't right. She deserved better.
"You didn't return inside," he said.
Her head tilted to the side, allowing her to look at him. "You knew I was here?"
"I saw you leave the ballroom earlier. You've been out here for quite some time. People might begin to wonder where you are if you don't return soon."
"I needed some fresh air." Her fingers drew circles on the balustrade as she looked out over the garden, a small crease appearing between her brows. "Philip followed. He's not thrilled about the attention I've received tonight."
"He's probably worried you will find a better match."
She let out a small, humourless laugh. "He did say something along those lines. I don't know why he would worry. My family is quite adamant this match is happening. It was my late parents' wish and we all want to honour it."
He said nothing. It was not his place, even if he wanted to shout out that Chettisham was a terrible match. If her parents had actually met him as an adult, he doubted they would have still wanted her to marry the man. Maybe he ought to speak to Gowthorpe about it. Her brother must know Chettisham's reputation. She sighed, her bosom rising slightly against the fitted, green bodice. The pale moonlight streaked her blond hair with silver, and she looked almost ethereal where she stood with her gloved hands on the railing.
"I never expected to receive this much attention," she said, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I can scarce believe it."
"You're beautiful, and not a man in there could escape noticing." He winked. "As long as you're not hiding behind potted plants."
Her head turned, and her gaze met his. "Could you?"
The bright green of her eyes drew him towards her. "Could I what?" he asked softly.
"Escape noticing."
"I told you," he whispered as he leaned closer. "Not one man could."
Another moment passed as they stared at each other, so close their breaths mingled.
The laughter from someone down in the garden made him regain his senses, and he quickly pulled away. "We had better return inside."
"Yes," she agreed breathlessly, leaving him alone on the terrace as she hurried inside as if she had the devil snapping at her heels.
As she slipped through the open doors, he cursed and raked a hand through his hair. What was he thinking? He'd just been about to kiss his friend's sister.
~~~~~~