You, and Only You (6 page)

When the music ended, Tiffany could scarcely hide her
disappointment as the couples surrounding them began to leave the floor and she
was brought slowly back to reality.
 
Smiling shyly at Alex, she couldn’t help wondering if she had mistaken
the look on his face just seconds earlier, for his features were now perfectly
composed.
 
As he led her from the dance
floor, she struggled for something to say, but then she saw her father waiting
for them on the sideline, wearing an expression that could only be described as
oddly calculating.
 
She had only a moment
to ponder the peculiarity of it however, before it was swiftly replaced by the
artificial smile she was all too familiar with.

“Chesterfield, I wonder if we might speak privately for a
moment,” the marquess requested as Alex and Tiffany approached.

“Certainly,” Alex responded, his tone accommodating.
 
Perhaps Melbourne was finally ready to
discuss the reason for his recent stall tactics regarding the land deal.
 
He certainly hoped so, for he was about to
the end of his rope with the whole thing.

Turning to his daughter, the marquess regarded Tiffany with
a critical expression as his gaze swept her from head to toe.
 
“Tiffany, perhaps you should take a moment to
freshen up before rejoining the party.”

Tiffany stiffened under her father’s censorious regard, his
comment effectively serving to dampen the joy of the past minutes with
Alex.
 
“Of course, father.”
 
With her tranquil tone belying her inner ire,
she politely thanked Alex for partnering her, and then with a forced smile she
excused herself from the pair.
 

Watching as she walked away, Alex could have kicked
Melbourne for treating his daughter so cavalierly, for he hadn’t missed the
momentary flash of pain reflected in her eyes.
 
What a bastard, he thought once again.
 

As she made her way to one of the women’s retiring rooms,
Tiffany silently lamented her misfortune.
 
Only her father could drag her from the cloud she’d been floating upon
and back to earth so quickly and with such a resounding thud.
 
His disparaging expression and callous tone
had made her feel as if she were a child who’d just soiled her dress in a mud
puddle.
 
Oh why was he never satisfied
with her, she wondered for perhaps the one-thousandth time?

Entering the nearly empty room a few minutes later, she
struggled to compose herself.
 
She hated
it when she allowed her father’s insensitivity to upset her.
 
Considering the past eighteen years, she
supposed she should have grown immune to it by now, but unfortunately she
hadn’t completely mastered the ability to disregard his callous barbs.
 

Declining the refreshment offered to her by one of the two
female servants in attendance, Tiffany moved to stand before the large bank of
mirrors leaning against the opposite wall.
 
With a touch of resentment stiffening her spine, she noted that her hair
was still perfectly coifed and that her gown was virtually wrinkle-free.
 
There was absolutely nothing wrong with her
appearance that she could see.
 
Had her
father really noted some minuscule fault she wondered, or had he simply used
that as an excuse to send her on her way so that he could speak with Alex
privately?
 
It was most likely the
latter, she acknowledged; though why he couldn’t have simply asked her to
excuse the two of them without making her feel as though her appearance was
somehow lacking, she would never understand.
 
It was beyond frustrating.

Returning to the ballroom a short time later, Tiffany
glanced about, but searching the crowd, she failed to spot her father or
Alex.
 
Wondering what it was that her
father had wished to speak to him about, she lingered for a moment at the edge
of the room, her thoughts churning in speculation.
 
She didn’t have long to ponder the matter
however, for she was soon approached by the gentleman whom she’d agreed to
partner in the upcoming country reel, one of the few remaining dances of the
evening.
 

After participating in the fast-paced reel, and then a
lively quadrille shortly thereafter, Tiffany longed for a quiet moment to catch
her breath.
 
Hoping to catch site of
Ashleigh, she thought they might take a quick stroll through the rear gardens
before the final two dances of the evening commenced.
 
But after glancing about the room, she realized
that her friend was nowhere to be found.
 
Noting that Nicholas appeared to be absent as well, she had a sneaking
suspicion that the pair might have escaped to the gardens for a private moment
themselves.
 

Although she couldn’t be happier for Ashleigh, she couldn’t
help feeling a bit envious as well.
 
Would anyone ever love her as much as the duke obviously loved Ashleigh,
she wondered?
 
Almost as soon as the
question crossed her mind, her thoughts turned to Alex.
 
Would her dreams regarding the handsome and
devilishly charming earl ever become reality?
 
Would Alexander Warrene ever be hers?
 
It seemed a fanciful notion, but even so, she couldn’t help thinking
back to their waltz.
 
Was it only wishful
thinking or was it possible that Alex
was
attracted to her, just as she was to him.
 
Recalling the way he’d looked at her as they’d danced, she couldn’t
repress a tiny flicker of hope.
 

Lost in her thoughts, Tiffany nearly failed to note the
approach of a young lord in a shocking lime-green waistcoat adorned with an
overabundance of gold embroidery, one of her more ardent admirers of the
evening.
 
With a squeak of dismay she
pretended not to see him and quickly fled in the opposite direction.
 
Feeling a bit like a naughty child, her eyes
darted to the right and then to the left, seeking any possible means of escape
as she weaved through the crowd.
 
She
spotted her salvation a moment later, a tiny alcove tucked into the wall not
far from where she stood.

After casting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure
that he didn’t see her, Tiffany darted into the small space.
 
Her heart soared when she saw that a small
bench had been placed within, cleverly hidden behind a large potted plant.
 
Feeling only the tinniest bit guilty, she
quickly dropped onto the seat.
 
Once she
was assured that no one had followed her, she promptly kicked off her satin
dancing slippers, revealing her cream-colored silk stockings.
 
Wiggling her toes, she leaned her head back
against the wall and breathed a long, contented sigh.
 
It felt marvelous to be off of her feet for a
moment.
 

As she sat within her solitary safe haven, her thoughts once
again turned to the Earl of Chesterfield, and it was then that she replayed
every moment of their waltz within her head.
 
She went over and over it, committing every last glorious detail to
memory, knowing that it would likely play itself out time and again in her
dreams.
 

Only a few minutes had passed however, when Tiffany’s
pleasant musings were interrupted by the low murmur of feminine voices drawing
ever closer to where she sat.
 
She might
have been able to ignore them if the subject of their conversation had been
anyone but Alexander Warrene.
 
Upon
hearing his name, she immediately lifted her head and glanced toward the
archway.
 
She could just make out the
Addler sisters through the plant’s concealing foliage, two of the women whose
acquaintance she had made earlier in the evening.

“Scandalous, simply scandalous,” the elder sister remarked,
her tone laden with self-righteous condemnation.

“Yes, quite shocking,” her younger sister readily agreed.

“One can expect no less from Chesterfield mind you,” stated
the elder, her tone of voice suggesting that Alex was not the primary recipient
of her censure.
 
“He
is
a man after all, and simply too handsome for his own good.”
 

“So true.”

Tiffany heard the wistful sigh that followed and
grinned.
 
Despite the fact that the women
were clearly spinsters and each one nearly old enough to be his mother, they
were obviously not immune to Alex’s charm.
 
Unaware that they had gained an audience, their conversation continued
as she sat quietly upon her seat.
 

“Lucinda Langdon on the other hand, now
she
should be ashamed of herself.
 
To flaunt herself as Chesterfield’s current paramour is bad enough, but
to do so
here
and in the presence of
her husband no less is quite beyond the pale, even for her.”

Chesterfield’s paramour!
 
The words nearly sent Tiffany tumbling from her precarious position
on the narrow bench as she twisted her entire body toward the archway.

“Do you see the way she’s looking at him?” the younger
sister queried spitefully.

“Humph,” the elder snorted.
 
“Disgraceful.”

With little thought of maintaining her hiding place, Tiffany
shoved apart two of the plant’s large leaves and scanned the surrounding
area.
 
She spotted Alex at once.
 
He was leading Lucinda Langdon onto the dance
floor.
 
Fastening her eyes upon the
baroness, she saw that the lady was indeed looking at Alex in a manner that
could only be described as
intimate
.
 
However, with his head turned, she couldn’t
see Alex’s face.
 
Was it true?
 
Was Alex having an affair with Baroness
Langdon?

“You’ll recall however, that the earl partnered Tiffany
Marlowe in a waltz earlier in the evening,” the younger Addler sister
commented, once again breaking into Tiffany’s thoughts.
 
“Perhaps the baroness is about to be jilted.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Adelaide.
 
Chesterfield never trifles with innocents or
women of virtue,” her sister replied with a haughty sniff.
 
“Surely you must realize that he only
partnered the girl as a favor to the duchess.”

“Yes, of course.
 
You’re surely correct.
 
After all,
he has made it quite clear that he is in no hurry to wed, despite his poor
mother’s urging.”

“Quite right.
 
Which
is of course the reason he is content to amuse himself with the likes of
Lucinda Langdon,” she said with a disdainful sniff.

A sudden lump rose in Tiffany’s throat as she felt the
unmistakable sting of tears at the backs of her eyes.
 
She was such a besotted fool.
 
How could she have possibly imagined that a
man like Alexander Warrene would be interested in someone like her?
 
He was exactly what everyone said he was, an
unfettered rake who preferred the company of mature, experienced women, married
women even.
 
Women like Lucinda Langdon,
not innocent young debutantes like her.
 
Even though she’d known of his reputation, it was extremely vexing to be
confronted with the disillusioning reality of it firsthand.

Much to her relief, the Addler sister’s voices began to fade
then as they moved away from the alcove.
 
With one last morose glance toward the earl and the baroness, Tiffany
settled back upon the bench and tried to compose herself.
 
She wished she could simply remain there, for
her evening was effectively ruined, but she knew she couldn’t hide
forever.
 
Thankfully the night was
drawing to a close, but even so, knowing what she did now, the remainder of the
ball was going to be dreadfully unpleasant.
 
Fortunately, the years spent living with her father had made it easier
to keep her true feelings hidden behind a mask of outward composure.
 
She was going to need it, especially if she
happened to encounter either Alex or the baroness before she was able to retire
for the night.
 

Sighing heavily, Tiffany slid her dancing slippers back onto
her feet and then stepped from her small hideaway and rejoined the party.
 
Unfortunately, she encountered her father
almost immediately.
 
He appeared annoyed as
he came upon her, but of course that was nothing new.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, the tone of his voice
revealing his annoyance.

“I was merely taking a moment to catch my breath, father,”
Tiffany replied, her own voice tinged with irritation, as she gestured to the
alcove.
 
She regretted the lapse at once.

“Do not take that tone of voice with me, young lady,” the
marquess snapped.
 

Tiffany could have kicked herself for allowing her
frustration to show.
 
Now she was sure to
receive a severe tongue-lashing from her father.

The marquess took a step closer, anger sparking in his
eyes.
 
Fortunately however, he was halted
from saying anything further as someone called to him from behind.