Courting Miss Lancaster (19 page)

“How had she expected?” Harry asked, curious.

Persephone’s expression turned thoughtful again. She eyed Harry rather closely as a slow smile slid across her face. “Harry,” Persephone said, “listen closely. You are going to make the Techneys’ ball magical.”

Chapter 22

Athena sat on a chair near the wall at the last ball of the Little Season very much the way she had at the first ball more than two months earlier. Adam was just behind her. Persephone was at his side, in contrast to her determined socializing of that evening so many weeks before. Mr. Dalforth had danced with her but, as they had decided was best, had not paid her any more attention than that. Several of the remaining members of Athena’s court had already left London for their country homes. Mr. Howard was still in London providing nearly constant proof that his knowledge of trees was unparalleled in its enormity.

Sitting out the majority of her dances was not as disheartening as it had been when Athena had first embarked on her debut in society. She found, in fact, that she rather preferred it. Her mind was too full of Harry to spare any thoughts for conversing with a dancing partner.

She wondered about Harry. Would he come to Falstone Castle for Christmas as he had the year before? Persephone had been unsure. Did Harry really love her as Persephone thought he did? And did he love her enough?

Athena held back a sigh, reminding herself that time would tell and she would simply have to wait and see, hoping that her heart could endure the uncertainty. The anger she had felt at learning of Harry’s role in the ceaseless flow of imbeciles she’d met since arriving in London had dissipated rather suddenly. After Persephone had voiced her theory about Harry’s feelings for Athena, that frustration had seemed to vanish. Something in her had never truly believed that Harry had acted out of malice; to think that he might have acted out of love was a thought that gave her more hope than she could have imagined. If only he would return so she might know for sure.

She allowed her gaze to sweep the room. How easily she could have been seeing the ball she’d imagined so many times. The room was every bit as lovely, the dresses as colorful, the music as enchanting as her dreams had painted them. But
he
was missing.

The dancers spun and crossed in the intricate patterns of a dance as Athena watched. Through a break in the line of dancers, she thought she saw a face. A very familiar face. Athena’s heart thumped painfully in her chest, but the dancers shifted and closed the gap again, and she could not be sure.

Athena moved slightly in her chair, searching. Surely she would have known if Harry had returned to London. She must have been mistaken. And yet the gentleman she’d seen looked so very much like him.

She attempted to appear nonchalant as she frantically studied each face across the room every time the dancers afforded her a glimpse.

There again! She was nearly certain it was him after all. Athena pressed a hand to her throat where her heart was pounding a frantic rhythm. Harry had come back! Would he come and speak to her? Did he wish to even see her? Had she realized her own heart too late?

The orchestra played out the last bars of the current dance, and the participants applauded appropriately. Only a moment and the next set would begin. With whom would Harry dance? Would he dance at all? Would she be able to steal a glimpse of him once more?

Athena wasn’t even sure where he’d gone, she’d lost sight of him.

“Miss Lancaster.”

Athena looked quickly in Mr. Howard’s direction as his voice interrupted her search.

“Mr. Howard,” she replied politely, if a little rushed.

Mr. Howard began talking, probably about trees. Athena’s eyes had returned to the crowd. In an instant she saw him. He was still across the room but drawing closer. Their eyes met, and Athena could feel her heart pounding harder in her chest. She couldn’t pull her eyes from him, and he didn’t look away.

As she watched Harry draw nearer, their eyes locked. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look upset, either. What was he thinking? Was he happy to see her?

Please let him be happy about it,
she silently pleaded.

“Miss Lancaster?” Mr. Howard’s voice broke into her thoughts.

She spared him only the briefest of glances, just long enough to register that he was watching her in obvious expectation, though she wasn’t sure of what. Her eyes had already returned to Harry, now only a few steps away.

Harry’s eyes hadn’t left her. Athena was very nearly certain her heart had sped to twice its normal pulse. Every inch of her seemed to have begun trembling.

A smile spread across Harry’s face, and Athena felt the telling blush that spread across her cheeks and down her neck. Harry’s smile! She smiled in return but felt unaccountably nervous, almost as if she’d suddenly become very shy in his presence.

“Miss Lancaster?” Mr. Howard’s attempts to gain her attention had grown more urgent.

But Harry was at her side, and Athena could not look away.
Please love me,
she silently begged. What would she do if she had lost him already?

“Mr. Howard,” Harry said to Athena’s eager, if ignored, conversational partner.

“Mr. Windover.”

“Forgive me for being rude, but I do believe this dance has been promised to me,” Harry said.

Athena wasn’t sure if Mr. Howard replied, the pounding of her heart having deafened her. Harry held his hand out to her and smiled. Athena placed her hand in his, an amazing sensation of tingling and awareness spreading up her arm in waves and pulses.

The phenomenon continued throughout the dance. Every time the steps required their hands to touch, she tingled at the contact. Neither of them spoke a word. Their eyes met at every opportunity, and his smile, different from the laughing smiles he so often produced, always greeted her when the movements of the dance brought them back together. That smile made her blush all over again.

It was her dream come to life: a meeting of eyes across a ballroom, a pounding heart, an undeniable awareness. All that time it was Harry! How had she missed it?

Her heart and mind in a jumble of emotions, Athena was returned to her seat as the dance ended. Persephone and Adam were in the midst of a conversation and did not acknowledge Harry and Athena’s return.

Harry bowed quite formally, smiled, and walked away.

Athena watched him go, confused. He had not actually spoken to her, not so much as a word. She longed to call him back but was afraid that her plea would be met with rejection. Had he danced with her out of obligation? No. She could not believe that. Then why, she asked herself, had he left?

“Are you all right, Athena?” Persephone asked. “You look a little pale.”

“I think I will just take a moment in the withdrawing room,” Athena said, rising a little shakily.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Persephone offered.

“No,” Athena insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

She moved swiftly but as inconspicuously as possible from the ballroom. She did not wish to draw attention but very much feared if she did not escape quickly, the tears would fall before she was away. She knew that crying at a ball was not permitted.

* * *

Harry saw Athena slip out of the ballroom. He moved quickly. Intercepting her without being seen was going to be difficult, but he absolutely had to. There was too much that needed to be said. And he needed to hold her, if she would let him. He needed the comfort of her in his arms. That need had nearly undone him as they’d danced. It was not at all the done thing to embrace one’s partner in the middle of a ballroom in the midst of a dance. But he had been very sorely tempted.

Athena was moving quickly, but Harry had the advantage of familiarity; he had attended many balls and musicales at the Techneys’ home. The hallway was deserted—a happy circumstance, as he had no desire to attempt to circumvent a crowd.

Harry reached her from behind just as she passed the doorway to a small sewing room, one not being used as part of the ball. Harry quickly took hold of her hand and pulled her inside. He felt Athena stiffen and immediately begin pulling away.

“Athena,” he whispered, pulling her close enough for her to hear him.

“Harry,” she answered, turning to look at him, eyes wide, voice full of surprise. “I—”

He laid a finger on her lips, stopping her words as he closed the door to the room. It was a potentially compromising situation, but there were some things he needed to say to her, and an audience would be most unwelcome.

Talking was what he ought to have been doing, but touching her lips was proving very distracting. Harry’s eyes traced every inch of her beloved face—her brilliant green eyes, the tiny bewitching mouth, the dimple he knew would appear if only she would smile.

“You came back,” Athena said, Harry’s hand having traveled away from her lips to stroke a perfect gold ringlet framing her face.

He was having a very difficult time breathing. He was touching her. Touching Athena. And not in a very brotherly way. He had never once held Jane’s hair between his fingers or brushed his hand along her cheek.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t,” Athena continued. “And then I saw you, and I was afraid you wouldn’t come talk to me. And you didn’t. Talk, that is. And I thought—”

“Athena,” Harry said again, still a whisper, his eyes memorizing her features.

“Harry?” Her voice broke a little, her tone uncertain.

“Athena.” His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. He was holding her face in his hands, as he’d dreamed of doing so many times.

Harry closed his eyes, forcing several long, deep breaths. Stepping away from her would have been best, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Harry, are you angry with me?”

“Angry with you?” His shock pulled Harry’s eyes open.

“You wouldn’t even talk to me,” she said, moisture pooling in her eyes. “In the ballroom. You just left. I know I was curt with you the last time I saw you, but—”

“Oh, Athena.” He shook his head, a smile inching its way across his face. “You had every right to be curt with me—angry, even. I should have been more honest with you. You had a right to know why I introduced you to the gentlemen I did.”

Athena looked away from him, a tear slipping from her eyes as she did. Harry knew in an instant she’d imagined some horrid motivation behind what he’d done.

“Athena, darling,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms, hoping to give as much comfort as he knew he would receive from the embrace. Harry wasn’t entirely sure his heart could speed up any more than it did in that moment without bringing on his rather premature demise. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have been so duplicitous, but I simply couldn’t bear the idea of finding you a husband.”

“Why not?” she asked, her head resting against his chest.

It was confession time. If Persephone had been mistaken and Athena was not, in fact, in love with him, Harry’s next words might very well signal the end of all his hopes. He could not, however, deny the fact that she had not uttered a single objection as he’d touched her hair, caressed her face, or held her to him.

“Because I wanted you myself,” Harry admitted on a whisper. “I have loved you almost from the first time I met you, Athena. And if I did not have a chance to win you, I at least wanted you to recognize the sort of gentlemen who could never make you happy.”

“You wanted me to be happy?” she looked up at him, and Harry was certain he saw hope in her eyes.

“That is all I have ever wanted.”

“Then why did you not court me yourself?”

“Adam expressly forbade any fortune hunters from soliciting your hand,” Harry answered.

Athena cut him off before he could continue. “But you are not a fortune hunter. Mr. Rigby was a fortune hunter. You could never be so cruel and unfeeling and inherently dishonest.”

Harry felt his smile spread wider. “Adam told me essentially the same thing.” Harry locked his hands together behind Athena, relishing the warmth of her so close to him. “Although he used words I would not dare repeat in front of a lady.”

“Then Adam approves?” She smiled, though the dimple was not yet evident.

“I think Adam would condone and assist a kidnapping and elopement if he thought I would go along with the idea.”

The slightest hint of a blush suddenly appeared on Athena’s face, her expression instantly almost bashful. Harry was beyond intrigued. “I wouldn’t object to a kidnapping,” she said quietly. She smiled as she spoke, and that one enchanting dimple made its long-awaited appearance.

“I have wanted to do this for ages,” Harry whispered, more to himself than to Athena.

“Do what?” she asked, the last word cutting off mid-syllable as Harry took hold of her face and leaned closer to her.

Heart racing and pounding again, he bent toward her and slowly, gently kissed the dimple just at the corner of her mouth. He heard and felt her sigh and knew it was a lost cause. He had intended only to talk with her. He’d get back to the talking eventually.

The slightest shift was all that was necessary for his lips to touch hers. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, but that tiny part of his mind that was still functioning rationally knew that such obvious damage to her appearance would not easily be put to rights. He would not subject her to the gossip that would create. Harry contented himself with touching her face, her neck, wrapping his arms around her and simply holding her to him.

Athena’s arms hooked around his neck as she returned his kisses with obvious enthusiasm. Being romantically courted may have been Athena’s dream, but being kissed like that by Athena had long been Harry’s.

He smiled as he pulled away. Harry kept his hands on her shoulders, his arms a little stiff, in order to maintain the necessary distance. Closed doors and heartfelt confession were, it seemed, a dangerous combination. He would need to take extra precautions to avoid such things until everything was official and such liberties were permitted.

“Oh, Harry,” Athena said, her voice a little breathless, her face flushed still.

Harry smiled, happiness permeating every inch of him. She moved toward him, and he stiffened his arms, preventing her from approaching. “You need to stay over there.” He laughed lightly. “Your lips are temptation enough without the smell of violets undermining my self-control.”