A Soldier’s Heart(6)
“Miss Fitzwater, you look especially lovely tonight.” Although she did not offer her hand, he took it nonetheless, raising it to his mouth and letting his lips linger on her long, thin fingers a moment more than he should. She gazed at him with such earnest bewilderment—obviously an innocent—that he squeezed her hand hearteningly once before releasing it.
“You are very kind, Lord Blackwood. Thank you for the lovely flowers. They are quite wonderful,” she responded in correct form, receiving an almost imperceptible nod from her aunt.
Lady Charlesworth had always reminded Matt of a giant owl with her gray hair and huge, knowing eyes, which now pinned him with cool calculation. “Lord Blackwood, it is so close in here. Perhaps Serena would enjoy an orangeade on the terrace.”
With a jolt of surprise, Matt realized reinforcement was at hand. Obviously Lady Charlesworth supported his campaign. But did she realize how quickly Serena must surrender her heart?
“An excellent idea, Lady Charlesworth. May I escort you to the terrace, Miss Fitzwater?”
At her blushing nod, he placed her hand on his arm and guided her through the throng out onto the terrace.
The music and voices left behind, quiet closed about them. He settled her in a corner, out of a slight breeze which chilled the evening air. Her scarf slid from her shoulders. As he reached to adjust it, inadvertently his fingers brushed across her throat just above the soft rise of her breasts.
Her gasp stilled his hand and he stepped back before the sudden blaze in her eyes.
“Are you attempting to seduce me, Lord Blackwood?”
Shock rooted him to the spot. He knew her background—the only child of Reverend Bartholomew Fitzwater, second son of the third Baron Fitzwater. How could the gently bred, inexperienced girl he knew her to be even think such a thing?
“No, Miss Fitzwater,” he finally found voice to utter. “I’ve been away from London a long time, but I don’t believe custom has changed so much that it would be at all the thing to do at Lady Farnsley’s ball.”
“I am untutored in London ways, but it seems your actions verge on the bold, my lord.” She stared up at him with huge blue eyes, her hands clutched in her lap as demurely as if she were sitting in a pew at her father’s church. “You are a soldier and must return to your duties soon. Are you hoping for a dalliance? If so, I fear it cannot be.”
How adorable she was! Delight replaced shock. His perfect English flower had the gift of honesty, a trait he prized above all others. But if she already thought him bold, he might as well continue. Lifting both her hands, he turned them palm up, pressing kisses into each center. “Miss Fitzwater, before I return to the war, I mean to make you my bride.”
“Your bride?” she gasped, pulling her hands free so one could flutter nervously at her throat. “But you don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re the woman I’ve been hoping to find.”
“You have been looking for someone approximately my height, with dark hair and blue eyes?”
Her earnestness caused him to smile. “As a matter of fact, yes, you are exactly what I’ve been seeking.”
“You mean someone with my background: a parson’s daughter, reared in the country,” she persisted with quiet dignity.
In battle Matt knew only cool certainty, but confronted with Serena’s calm logic, he became slightly agitated. “It has nothing to do with your background. I only know the instant I saw you, I wanted you for my bride.”
Tilting her head, she chewed on her lower lip for a minute as she studied him. “It seems to me, Lord Blackwood, you are in the clutch of a romantic vision.”
“Nay, Miss Fitzwater, you are the woman I truly want to make my own.” Pressing his advantage, as she continued to calmly study him with clear eyes, Matt reached for and again lifted her hand, holding the palm up in his fingers. “My boldness will know no bounds to achieve my end. I pray you won’t dash my hopes so soon.”
Determined to win her heart no matter the odds, he was confident of the outcome, so was shocked to discover his pulse raced waiting for her answer.
“Your hopes are safe with me, Lord Blackwood,” she whispered, dropping her eyes.
Elated at her response, he covered her small hand with his other and drew it once more to his lips. “Just as your heart will be safe with me.”
Enthusiasm prevailed over reason and he led Serena out for three waltzes. He knew tongues would wag, but that was of little import. The sooner the whole world realized his happiness, the better.
He pressed his campaign the next evening at the Countess North’s soiree. His attentions marked Serena yet were not so scandalous as to draw censure upon her.