silk and blond lace gown showing her lovely figure and high breasts, smiling at the tall and slightly gawky Earl of Kenswick, who kissed her hand as he seated her and moved possessively to the seat by her side. She lifted her opera glasses and circled the top tier occasionally lowering the glasses to nod to an acquaintance.
The orchestra was warming up by the time she reached the floor seats. Just as applause indicated the conductor had come on the stage, her glasses moved to him. He waited unmoving, as the glasses slipped out of her hand and with huge eyes and a face as pale as the powder in her hair she moved over his features; waited unmoving, still as a statue. He in turned allowed his heated stare to move insolently over her face and body. One small hand moved to her breast and he followed it with his eyes. As the concert began, he turned to his friends to excuse himself and strolled to the exit. He turned again to search for her, but she had withdrawn from view. He did the same, sick at heart, for he had seen the ring she wore, and knew he had waited too long. Somehow he had lost her.
**********
Lawrence and Lydia arrived shortly before dusk, held up by shoe thrown by one of the horses. Edwin greeted them with all the warmth he could muster and handed them over to Darling then returned to the library and paced the floor. He had sent word requesting the Earl and his family's company for dinner and, having received an warm acceptance, expected them momentarily. For over forty years he had waited in the background of Rosy's life. Now he intended to step forward and claim the promise both of them had known from the beginning. He was not sure how to go about it exactly, but he would play every card available to him, starting with rank and family obligation.
The dinner was as perfectly arranged as his home. With his mother and the Duchess of Maitlin as her instructors, there was never any doubt that his dear girl could outshine any hostess in the haute ton. Whether she chose to do so was another matter. He had not understood why she had flown from London as soon as her period of mourning was over. As he observed her in her lovely black gown trimmed in jet beads which clung to a petite figure that still moved him in all ways, she faded into the background, not making much conversation, seemingly anxious over the young Countess who was successfully ignoring her mother in law in favor of political gossip with Lawrence. While his diplomat's mind sorted through a minefield of possibilities regarding what this might mean, Stephen did his best to draw the new Marquess into conversation about the latest events on the continent while Lydia and Rosy discussed detail of guests and the housing and feeding of them and their servants and their cattle.
Content in some way that he was unfamiliar with, he engaged in conversation and let the peace of the moment roll over him. Later he would dissect the words and the currents around him. Now he merely wished to be a man in him home with his family and loved ones around him during a trying time. For these small things he was truly thankful.
The orchestra was warming up by the time she reached the floor seats. Just as applause indicated the conductor had come on the stage, her glasses moved to him. He waited unmoving, as the glasses slipped out of her hand and with huge eyes and a face as pale as the powder in her hair she moved over his features; waited unmoving, still as a statue. He in turned allowed his heated stare to move insolently over her face and body. One small hand moved to her breast and he followed it with his eyes. As the concert began, he turned to his friends to excuse himself and strolled to the exit. He turned again to search for her, but she had withdrawn from view. He did the same, sick at heart, for he had seen the ring she wore, and knew he had waited too long. Somehow he had lost her.
**********
Lawrence and Lydia arrived shortly before dusk, held up by shoe thrown by one of the horses. Edwin greeted them with all the warmth he could muster and handed them over to Darling then returned to the library and paced the floor. He had sent word requesting the Earl and his family's company for dinner and, having received an warm acceptance, expected them momentarily. For over forty years he had waited in the background of Rosy's life. Now he intended to step forward and claim the promise both of them had known from the beginning. He was not sure how to go about it exactly, but he would play every card available to him, starting with rank and family obligation.
The dinner was as perfectly arranged as his home. With his mother and the Duchess of Maitlin as her instructors, there was never any doubt that his dear girl could outshine any hostess in the haute ton. Whether she chose to do so was another matter. He had not understood why she had flown from London as soon as her period of mourning was over. As he observed her in her lovely black gown trimmed in jet beads which clung to a petite figure that still moved him in all ways, she faded into the background, not making much conversation, seemingly anxious over the young Countess who was successfully ignoring her mother in law in favor of political gossip with Lawrence. While his diplomat's mind sorted through a minefield of possibilities regarding what this might mean, Stephen did his best to draw the new Marquess into conversation about the latest events on the continent while Lydia and Rosy discussed detail of guests and the housing and feeding of them and their servants and their cattle.
Content in some way that he was unfamiliar with, he engaged in conversation and let the peace of the moment roll over him. Later he would dissect the words and the currents around him. Now he merely wished to be a man in him home with his family and loved ones around him during a trying time. For these small things he was truly thankful.
