Belle of the Ball Read online

  “I want to be pursued by one gentleman, not hordes of them.”

  Lady Wellsford laughed. “Don’t be so shy. You will spend the rest of your life with the affection of only one man. Enjoy the moment.”

  Anabelle patted Hazels hand and stood. She wasn’t as overwhelmed by the thought as Hazel was. But then again, Hazel always preferred to not be the center of attention. “I’m going to change my dress,” she said over her shoulder as she left the drawing room. She went in search of her list. She wanted to have it on hand in case she met any gentlemen that she would want to add as a potential husband. After her disappointing kiss with Lord Marcus, she had felt forlorn, but now she felt that her chances had improved. Certainly, one among the many bouquets of flowers could be the man of her dreams? The odds had to be in her favor for once.

  The following evening, Anabelle had her list tucked in her bodice as she entered a musicale hosted by Lady Summers. She and Hazel mingled as usual, finding Lucy and their seats before the musicale started. The afternoon after the masquerade, their drawing room had not only overflowed with flowers, but gentlemen, as well. Sadly, Anabelle only added three more names to her list of gentlemen who could be promising prospects, but she was enjoying the attention, nonetheless, and even now as they sat, gentlemen took seats around them and tried to catch their attention.

  “Like bees to honey,” Lucy murmured. “You two are the talk of the town.”

  “I don’t see why I have to be included. It was Anabelle who made all the waves,” Hazel grumbled.

  Anabelle patted Hazel on the back. “I’m sorry, dear.”

  “You don’t like it?” Lucy said with wide eyes. “Why on earth not?”

  Hazel rolled her eyes. “Look around. They are like scent hounds and act as if I’ve bacon hidden in my pockets.”

  Lucy laughed aloud, garnering the three even more attention. Hazel shushed her.

  “What woman likes this sort of attention?”

  “I don’t mind it,” Anabelle admitted.

  “Neither do I. Pardon me as I linger in your shadow.” Lucy smiled wickedly.

  Hazel sat up straighter and faced forward.

  Anabelle watched her curiously and then looked in the direction Hazel was intently looking. Anabelle poked Lucy in the side behind Hazel’s chair. “Is that Lord Bainbridge?” Anabelle said.

  Lucy nodded and smiled knowingly. “Indeed. Why have the attention of many men when you only want the attention of one.”

  Hazel gave them both withering glares. “Please excuse me. I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

  No sooner had Hazel departed and Rigsby took her seat.

  He nodded to Lucy and then turned to Anabelle. “Beg pardon, but I need to hide amid your skirts.”

  “Excuse me?” Anabelle choked.

  “No time to explain.” He put his arm over the back of her chair.

  Anabelle looked at it like it was a snake and then back at him. “You better explain what this is about.”

  He sighed. “You are all the rage, and if I’m seen courting you, then Lord Paller won’t think I’m the one who was with his fiancée last night.”

  “Jonathan, you wouldn’t,” Lucy admonished.

  “Well, no. Not exactly. It wasn’t actually me, but rumor has it that it was.”

  “He will put a bullet through your heart,” Lucy added.

  “Which is why I need Anabelle to protect me—excuse me, may I call you Anabelle?”

  Anabelle nodded. “I suppose it’s all right given my connection with your sister.”

  “You don’t consider us friends?” He put his free hand to his heart and looked devastated.

  Anabelle didn’t buy it for a second.

  He dropped the act. “Be that as it may, if you do this for me, I will consider you a dear friend, my savior even.”

  “You may sit beside me, but you must confine yourself to your chair.”

  “That is Hazel’s chair,” Lucy reminded them.

  “She won’t mind. She can sit beside Draven. Save the seat beside you, ol’ boy.”

  Anabelle turned just as Draven entered the row. He raised a brow at all the gentlemen surrounding the seats containing Anabelle and Lady Lucy with a mocking brow. He sat beside Anabelle as if he owned the spot. “For Lady Hazel? She won’t want to sit next to me.” But he set his program down on the remaining empty chair anyway.

  All the adoring gentlemen turned away like sad puppies. Hazel did return shortly and noticed the lack of mooning faces. She looked down at Draven. “Is this your doing?”

  He shrugged. “I was told to sit here and save you a seat.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “It appears you have a use after all.”

  “I accept the compliment,” he said dryly.

  The musicale began shortly with a duet on the piano and violin from the daughters of Lady Summers. The highlight of the program would be the famous Senorita Isabella. Anabelle was looking forward to it, although she presently couldn’t pull her attention from the tingling awareness along the left side of her body.

  It was all because of him sitting there, not having said a single word to her, and yet commanding all of her attention with his presence. Would it ever end? When she was an old married woman, attending the opera on her husband’s arm, would she see him across the balcony, and then still have this same tension throughout her body? She prayed not. She wanted it to end, as exciting and exhilarating as these feelings were, they were also exhausting. Why couldn’t she feel this way over another man, a man who would wish to marry? It was such a waste of energy and time, a craving that could not be fulfilled and would likely drive her mad.

  She sat up straight, a sudden idea coming to her. Not long ago, Hazel had been longing for Mr. T’s Peppermint Comfits. She ate so many at once that it made her ill, and she never wanted to look upon a peppermint comfit again. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. He looked so serious, as if he longed to be anywhere but here. Anabelle couldn’t recall seeing him smile, unless the smile had a purpose, usually to intimidate or tease. He looked so cold and hard, a man incapable of laughter and happiness. Even the way he wore his hair, styled and pomaded into absolute obeyance, was harsh. The cleanly shaven square-ness of his jaw was unrelenting. Anabelle examined his jawline, surprised by the dark stubble visible under his skin. It reached all the way to his cravat and disappeared underneath. She swallowed, and for some reason, felt warmth fill her cheeks and spread all the way down her breasts to the pit of her stomach. She shamefully wondered if he had hair on his chest and even imagined it in her mind. She had never even seen a bare male chest, not in real life, but she had flipped through a medical book in the library and there were drawings of men, indisposed, and some had quite a bit more hair than she would have thought.

  “May I help you?” he whispered.

  Anabelle’s attention snapped to his lips and then she looked up and met his eyes. In her reverie, she hadn’t realized she had been so bold as to turn her head and actually stare at him.

  “Um…” Oh, bother, why waste more time? “I have another question to ask you.”

  She would have sworn his pupils dilated, but he quickly looked away.

  “You may ask me your question at intermission.”

  Anabelle faced forward again, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

  Chapter 9

  Anabelle stood and waited for the other guests to file into the next room for refreshments. Draven stood behind her, and they followed the others. Instead of turning right, they went left and down a ways into the hall where they could not be seen.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” Anabelle said nervously as Draven opened a few doors and checked within.

  “You’d rather ask your question in front of everyone? I’m assuming this question is much like the other. Ah. Here we are.”

  They entered the library and he closed the door. Anabelle didn’t move further into the room.

  “Would you care to sit?” He waved to the
chairs.

  The room was lit and had a fire going. It was meant to be in use but was currently empty. She shook her head. “I want to get back to the others as soon as possible.”

  He folded his hands in front of him. “Proceed with your question.”

  Anabelle opened her mouth and then closed it again. She really should have thought this through beforehand. “Well… I thought about what you said at the masquerade and something else occurred to me. If there is something felt that surely cannot be a lasting affection, will it be appeased if it is indulged, and then go away?”

  He blinked slowly. “I beg your pardon? What is this something?”

  “You used the very word yourself. You said something would be felt before anything is said or done. If that something is indulged, will it go away?”

  He was silent then. His features hardened as if he were angry. She didn’t know why he should be angered by anything she said.

  “You don’t understand what you are asking,” he said gravely.

  Anabelle mentally balked. “I think I understand perfectly well,” she returned tersely.

  He folded his arms over his chest. He looked very large when he did that. She suspected he knew that.

  “So, if what you say is true, if I press you up against the door and kiss you until you can no longer breathe or remember your name, my craving for you will then simply disappear?”

  Anabelle already felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Wha—what?”

  “You’ve made it too simple, my dear. This something you are chasing, it’s with me, isn’t it? There’s no need for you to answer, I already know.” He took a step forward. “It’s called desire, Anabelle. Lust, attraction, and yes, it can be appeased, but there is no way to predict how many kisses, touches, or fevered couplings it will take before it burns itself out, if indeed it ever will. We’ve kissed twice, and yet here we are, still uncomfortably aching for the other.”

  The only sound was the breath Anabelle was suddenly able to pull into her lungs. But she still had nothing to say, no ability to form comprehensible words to deny all he had said. She had nothing to deny, because it was true, and the fact that he knew and that he could read her so easily made her feel so vulnerable, naked even.

  “I’m sure I’ve offended you. Torn apart your naïve dreams of love and marriage, but the truth is, what you are feeling is not wrong, its simply human nature.”

  She swallowed, mentally stumbling for something to say so that she didn’t appear to be a total dunce. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I did. But the real question is if the desire you feel for me will be indulged by fulfilling it. The answer is there is only one way to find out.” He stepped closer again, almost touching her but not quite. “If I kiss you senseless, will that be enough?”

  Anabelle swallowed. Her skin felt over-sensitized, her clothing now uncomfortable. She was on the edge of a precipice, but the answer was clear. If she allowed another kiss, she would no longer want him. She was sure of it. He was the craving she wanted to fill, and then she could go on with her plans. She would forget all about him, but not what she felt. She would use this experience to further clarify what she needed from a future husband.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes it will be enough?”

  She nodded.

  He looked smugly unconvinced. “You truly think so?”

  “Yes.”

  He unfolded his arms, bringing his hands to her hips and pulling her against him. “You really believe that?”

  She focused on his lips. “I have to.”

  He brought his mouth down on hers. Anabelle was shocked at first, but then the familiarity came back and her body came to life. She brought her hands to his shoulders, as hard and strong as she remembered, and enjoyed the feel of him under her hands. He was so imposing in person, but when she was this close to him, and he was so absorbed with touching her and kissing her, she felt like the one with all the power. It made her bolder, so she slid her hands up to his neck and let her fingers tease the hair at his nape. It was softer than she thought a man’s hair would be.

  She opened her mouth to him, sighing when his tongue invaded and claimed. She liked it, though she would never admit it to him. He was not the cold, aloof man that he showed the world when he kissed her. When he kissed her, he was hot and vibrant. His hands didn’t just touch, they held. His fingertips dug into her skin and gripped her. His hands moved possessively over her back, daring to traverse the curve of her derriere. Anabelle didn’t care. This is what she had been looking for, even if it was only a temporary insanity—which it must be. She wanted to let it rain over her just for this moment.

  His mouth broke away from hers, trailing liquid fire to her ear and then the sensitive skin of her neck. She gasped, the sensation so wild and new that she was lost in it. He backed her up to the door, her shoulder blades pressed to the wood and his hands pressing her hips against him. She could feel the ridge of his manhood against her stomach. It frightened her and thrilled her. She was now clinging to him at the mercy of her body’s response to him. Everything felt so delicious and wicked, his lips and tongue against her skin, her breasts pressed against his chest, and the friction of her hips against his as she struggled for breath and to keep her wits in place. His mouth returned to hers, and she moaned in his mouth as her own tongue eagerly met his.

  He groaned in response, his hands becoming rougher, and his kiss harder and more demanding. It was too much and not enough for either of them. He tore his mouth away, his breathing just as labored as hers.

  “That’s enough,” he rasped.

  Anabelle didn’t think so. Her body still hummed with heat and desire. He slowly let her go, the door thankfully there to hold her upright. He looked as she felt, which pleased her. She smiled a little.

  “Don’t smile like that,” he warned. He looked very dangerous.

  Anabelle tried to stop, but she couldn’t. She pushed away from the door and turned away from him. She touched her hair, which was still in place and inspected her gown for wrinkles. Amazingly, though she was rattled and feverish on the inside, she looked untouched on the outside. Except for her lips. Those felt swollen and raw.

  “You should go first,” he said

  She nodded. She needed no further instruction. She entered the hall and it was empty. The guests had returned to their seats and Anabelle merged with the last cluster of people and hurried to her seat.

  “Where were you?” Hazel asked. Lord Rigsby was no longer present.

  “The ladies’ room.”

  “All this time?”

  “My hair was too tight. I felt a headache coming on so I asked a maid to help me redo it.”

  Hazel looked up at her hair. “Remarkable. Though it is a little mussed.”

  “It is?” Anabelle whispered in alarm.

  She felt Draven take his seat beside her. “Where is Rigsby?” he asked Lucy over their heads.

  “I thought he was with you?” Lucy frowned with worry.

  “I was having a cigar. I thought he was with you.” Draven shrugged.

  Lucy shook her head. “I guess we will know if he’s been shot by morning.”

  Draven muttered something as he quickly left his chair before the next performance was announced. He didn’t return, which relieved Anabelle, but then again, it made her worry for Lucy’s brother.

  Chapter 10

  The next few days, Anabelle was in a constant state of anticipation. The only time she wasn’t thinking of Draven, was when she was in direct conversation with someone else. She didn’t expect to see him daily, not during morning calls or teas, at the park or even that night at the theatre. But it was always a possibility and that kept her nerves stretched taught. She wasn’t sure how she would feel when she saw him, if she would blush unexpectedly or feel that rush of emotions she always felt at his presence. Would it be different now? The craving she had for him had been fed, so did that mean she would feel nothing when she saw him?


  This is what held her attention whenever she was alone with her thoughts. Thinking about him still evoked many warm feelings, desire he had called it. Perhaps it would take time for them to dissipate but certainly, she wouldn’t have the urge to kiss him again. She already spent far too much time reliving their last kiss in her mind. She needed distraction, she needed to focus on her immediate goal, and that had nothing to do with Lord Draven and his lips.

  She was presently sitting in her parent’s box seats waiting for the play to begin. The theatre was something her family enjoyed together and it was almost a weekly habit. For others, it was another avenue in which to see and be seen, but since Anabelle was a child, it was strictly a time for family. Her father insisted upon it.

  Hazel touched her arm to get her attention. “Lucy did write that her brother was fine.”

  “What a relief.”

  “He seems none the worse for wear.” Hazel used her fan to point to another box across the theatre.

  It was Lucy’s family including Draven. Anabelle took a deep breath and turned her gaze to the stage and was determined not to be effected by him. “Does she know where he got off to?”

  “Well, she wrote that that Lord had confronted him at his club and Lord Draven put him in his place.”

  “Why was Draven involved? When did this happen?” Anabelle whispered.

  “Well, Lucy wrote that her brother left the musicale to avoid Lord whatever his name was from causing a scandal. It seems he went to his club, where this lord later arrived and they had a row. Draven was already there, having left the musicale in search of Rigsby. Lucy didn’t say exactly what Draven did or said to the lord, but it’s clear he was the hero of the day.”

  Anabelle wasn’t sure she could believe Draven to be the hero of anything. “You should not be using their names so informally.”

  “You do it. Besides, it seems like we’ve come to some sort of friendship after the events of the house party. Why not?”