You, and Only You (3 page)

The third man to lead her onto the floor was a middle-aged
viscount who regaled her with tales of his latest fishing trip as they
danced.
 
When she mistakenly mentioned
that she had tried her hand at the sport a time or two, his eyes lit up with
excitement and he immediately engaged her in an impassioned discourse involving
the most effective forms of bait used to lure varying types of fish.
 
Tiffany had to bite her lip to keep from
laughing aloud when Ashleigh looked her way, rolling her eyes skyward as she
and Nicholas whirled by.
 
Clearly she’d
heard the viscount’s comment regarding his partiality for using earthworms, and
the occasional chunk of moldy cheese to draw river trout to his line.

When her fourth partner guided her through the steps of a
quadrille, a foppish young dandy who immediately vowed to compose a dozen
sonnets to describe her incomparable beauty, the excitement of attending her
first ball was slowly beginning to wane.
 
Though she tried to conceal her discomfort at the fawning gentleman’s
effusive praise, she desperately searched the edge of the ballroom for any sign
of the Earl of Chesterfield.
 
When she
failed to spot him after casting several sweeping glances about the room, her
spirits plummeted even further.
 
She knew
that he’d accepted Ashleigh’s invitation, but perhaps he’d changed his mind and
wasn’t coming after all.
 
It was an
exceptionally disheartening notion.

Approximately thirty minutes later, Alexander Warrene stood
at the entrance to the Leighton’s ballroom, his restless gaze traveling over
the crowd of people moving about the room.
 
Aside from the latest crop of debutantes, the faces were all too
familiar.
 
He sighed, hesitating for a
moment as he lingered at the top of the five short steps leading down to the
parquet floor.
 
Would Ashleigh ever
forgive him if he turned around and headed back out the door, he wondered
briefly?

“Lord Alexander Warrene, the Earl of Chesterfield!”
 
Damn
,
the butler’s deep monotone announced his arrival.
 
Too
late now
, he thought dolefully as dozens of heads swiveled in his
direction.
 
Feeling the pressing weight
of their stares, he knew that it was going to be a long night.
 

He couldn’t help but smile a moment later though as he
glimpsed Nicholas and Ashleigh within the midst of the dancers twirling about
the center of the room.
 
Catching his
eye, he responded to Nick’s derisive grin with a sympathetic expression, which
he quickly changed to a broad smile as Ashleigh then spun in his
direction.
 
Though it was obvious that
Nicholas was head-over-heels in love with his young wife, it was a well-known
fact that the duke disliked society affairs even more than he did.
 
Ashleigh must have employed some very
persuasive methods in order to get Nick to agree to the ball, he imagined,
chuckling softly to himself as he descended the steps.

“Chesterfield, it’s good to see you.”
 
Turning to his right, Alex saw the Duke of
Ravenfield approaching.
 
Quickly losing
sight of Nick and Ashleigh amongst the multitude of dancers, he turned his
attention toward the duke.

“Ravenfield, how are you this evening?” he responded
affably, returning the greeting of one of the few men he considered a true
friend.
 

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” he replied with a
sardonic expression.

Alex nodded in understanding.
 
“Let me guess.
 
You received a personal note from the duchess
along with your invitation, just as I did.”

He bobbed his head, his expression lightening at the mention
of Ashleigh.
 
“She’s a difficult woman to
say no to.”

“She is indeed,” Alex agreed with a wide grin.
    

As her latest partner led her from the dance floor and to
her father’s side, Tiffany was relieved to note that the musicians were
preparing to take a break.
 
Though she had
enjoyed the last dance, as well as Mr. Danver’s skillful footwork and
delightfully quick wit, she was ready for a brief respite.
 

“Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?” the marquess asked as
they approached.

“Very much so,” she replied, directing a warm smile toward
her partner.
 
“Thank you, Mr. Danvers,”
she said politely, as he bowed over her hand.

“The pleasure was mine,” he said as he straightened and then
turned his gaze to her father.
 
“Your
daughter is as charming as she is beautiful, my lord.
 
You are a fortunate man.”
 

“I am indeed,” William agreed, smiling fondly at Tiffany.

As Mr. Danvers moved off, Tiffany could see the coolness
slowly reenter her father’s eyes.

“See that you do nothing further to encourage his
attention,” he cautioned in a censorious tone.
 
“In addition to his lack of title, I have it on good authority that
Danvers isn’t nearly as plump in the pockets as he’s rumored to be.”

Tiffany bit her tongue and merely nodded in response.
 
She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in
Mr. Danvers romantically and she’d certainly done nothing to encourage his
attention, but even so, she found her father’s boorish comments extremely
discourteous.
 
He could be such a
snob.
 
However, she knew better than to
voice such a thought aloud.
 
Glancing about
the room, she was about to suggest they seek out the offerings of the
refreshment table prior to the start of the next set, when her gaze landed
unexpectedly upon the one man she’d been searching for all evening.
  
He’d come, she noted giddily, feeling a
combination of pleasure and excitement rush through her.
 
Rising up onto her toes, she watched him move
steadily through the crowd, stopping every few paces to return a greeting and a
friendly handshake.
 
Her heart began to
race as he moved in her direction, and then, when she realized that he was
heading straight toward where she and her father now stood, her heart felt as
if it might beat right out of her chest.
 
With her attention focused primarily upon the earl’s progression,
Tiffany barely noticed her father’s sudden change in demeanor or the odd,
speculative gleam that entered his eyes, as he too noted the earl’s
advance.
 

“Good evening, Melborne,” Alex remarked with cool civility
when he reached the marquess’ side.
 

William tipped his head in greeting.
 
“Chesterfield.”

Turning to Tiffany, his expression softened.
 
“Lady Tiffany, you look enchanting as
usual.”
 
Although Tiffany’s extraordinary
beauty had been glaringly apparent on the night he’d first laid eyes upon her,
during the past months her face, as well as her figure, had taken on an added
maturity that although a seemingly impossible feat, only managed to enhance her
exquisite loveliness.
 

“Thank you, my lord,” she responded in a quiet voice, hoping
that her cheeks hadn’t turned an embarrassing shade of pink at the
compliment.
 
“It’s so nice to see you
again.”
 
So very, very nice!

“And you,” he replied with a warm smile.
 
“I hope you are enjoying your birthday, as
well as your first ball.”
 

Tiffany sighed internally, for Alexander Warrene was simply
glorious to behold, especially when he smiled.
 
“Yes, my lord,” she managed.
 
“I
am.”
 
Especially
so, now that you’re here
, she added silently.
 
Without conscious effort, her eyes moved
across the contours of his face, lingering for a moment upon his remarkable
bluish-grey eyes, a color that reminded her of glistening raindrops, then
moving along the gentle slope of his nose and finally dropping to the sensual
curve of his lips.
 
For a moment she felt
almost lightheaded.

“Have I arrived too late to request a dance?” Alex asked,
glancing down at the small card attached to Tiffany’s wrist with a thin satin
ribbon.
 
In truth, he secretly hoped that
her dance card was already full, as he had intentionally delayed his arrival
for just that reason.
 
For considering
his attraction to the enticing young lady, holding her in his arms, even if it
were only on the dance floor, would surely do nothing but add heat to an
existing fire.

Although she managed to keep her expression calm, her heart
was beating so loud that she was afraid he might hear it.
 
“As it happens, I do have one spot remaining
on my card,” she said softly.
 
“The last
waltz is yet unspoken for.”
 
She had
purposefully saved it in the hope that she could share it with him.

Damn, and a waltz no less
.
 
He groaned inwardly.
 
“Well then, the last waltz it is,” he
responded, concealing his consternation behind a genial smile.
 
“If that meets with your approval of course,”
he said, turning his questioning gaze to the marquess.
 

“It does,” William responded, nodding his assent.

“Excellent.
 
Until
then, Lady Tiffany.”
 
With a parting
smile for Tiffany and a slight nod to her father, Alex turned and once again
made his way through the crowd.
 
He
needed to speak with Melborne about the land deal, but he would wait until they
could talk privately.

Twenty minutes later, as Alex leaned casually against the
wall on the opposite side of the room; he watched in disinterest as the
musicians resumed their positions upon the small, elevated platform and
prepared to begin the next set.
 
His
interest
was
piqued a moment later
however, as he observed Brendon Leighton lead Tiffany Marlowe out onto the
dance floor.
 

Apparently Brendon had just said something amusing, for
Tiffany’s face was suddenly alight with laughter.
 
God she was stunning, especially when she
smiled he thought to himself, a small smile tilting the corners of his own
lips.
 
His
smile quickly faded however, as he watched Brendon pull Tiffany
into his arms at the start of the music.
 
It was the first waltz.
 

Watching as they moved to the lilting strains of the vals
crilollo, their bodies separated by a few paltry inches, he slowly pulled away
from the wall and straightened to his full six-foot-two-inch height, his eyes
following their graceful movements as they twirled across the floor.
 
Damnation, did he really need to hold her so
closely, he silently pondered.
 
However,
noting the look upon Tiffany’s face, she certainly didn’t seem to mind.
 
She appeared to be enjoying herself
immensely; perhaps a bit more than she should be, he thought somewhat
grudgingly.
 

Having known Nicholas’ younger brother since his youth, he
was well-aware of Brendon’s overwhelming popularity with members of the female
gender, and for perhaps the first time in all those years, he found the notion
rather troublesome.
 
The handsome rogue
had left more broken hearts behind than he could count and an innocent like
Tiffany Marlowe was no match for an accomplished Lothario like him.
 
If she wasn’t careful, she might soon find
her own heart added to the mix, he mused.
 
It was an oddly disconcerting thought.

“Has something caught your interest, Alex?
 
Or perhaps I should ask if
someone
has caught your interest?”

The slightly mocking voice drew Alex’s attention from the dance
floor to the man who’d come to stand beside him, Nicholas Leighton, the eighth
Duke of Sethe, his closest friend.
 

“Hardly,” Alex replied, trying to keep his tone
cavalier.
 
“I was merely observing your
brother’s attempt to add yet another name to his long list of admiring
females.”

“Ah, so that’s the cause of the frown you’re sporting,”
Nicholas responded, his voice reflecting a touch of wry amusement.
 
“I wasn’t aware that you were interested in
Tiffany Marlowe.”

Damn
, was he
frowning?
 
“She’s a delightful young lady
to be sure, but no, I’m not interested,” Alex replied with feigned
indifference.
 
“You of all people should
know that innocents aren’t my style, Nick.”

Nicholas merely harrumphed and quirked his brow dubiously in
response.

Eager to erase the knowing smirk from his friend’s face,
Alex decided that the quickest way was
 
to turn the tables on him.
 
Directing his attention to the dance floor once again, he searched for
and then deliberately focused his gaze upon Nick’s lovely young wife.
 
“Ashleigh looks stunning this evening,” he
commented, with a deceptively innocent smile.
 
“And by the look on his face, I’d wager that Ravenfield thinks so as
well.”