Waltzing With the Wallflower Read Free Page A

warmth in her cheeks spread to her ears. If only she could melt into the marble floor and disappear.
    When a large gloved hand reached around her and twisted the skirt free from the branch, brushing her hand as it did so, she retracted hers quickly with a gasp. Her gaze darted to his and to the floor again. Her words tangled in her throat and tripped over one another on their way out of her mouth. “I’m sor— Thank y—I mean, pardon me, my lord.”
    “Not at all, m’lady. Glad to be of service.” Cordelia dared not speak again for fear of humiliating herself further. Undoubtedly another mess of undecipherable utterances would only speed her already determined fate as an old maid. So she did the only thing she could think of. She spun on her heel and fled, weaving in and out of the throng of debutantes, having no real direction until she caught sight of her aunt sitting among the other matrons.
    The sea of debutantes began to part as if she were being led by Moses himself. Cordelia realized she failed in her effort to escape. Fear gripped her, making it impossible for her to look up. She kept her gaze on the path before her and made a beeline to where her aunt waited, imagining she could feel the heat from the man following close behind her.
    As she neared her sponsor, the woman’s eyes widened in recognition and a patronizing smile spread across her red lips. She did not return Cordelia’s gaze but rested hers instead on the man behind her.
    “Lord Hawthorne, so lovely to see you again,” she crooned with a low curtsy, dropping her fan in a most inappropriate fashion.
    “Lady Trowbridge,” he said then reached for her hand and kissed it chastely. “How do you fare this evening?” Cordelia peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. His brown wavy hair hung unfashionably long, teasing the edge of his collar. That would make him the elder of the two men, the Earl of Hawthorne, though both men were regarded highly by the bulk of the ton. What could he possibly want with her?
    She wasn’t so daft as to believe she would be of interest to anyone other than Sir Bryan, the stench of Cumberland. Which would leave only the man’s pure morbid curiosity.
    “Would you be so kind as to introduce me to your lovely charge?” Cordelia again felt the surge of embarrassment warm her neck and cheeks. Her gaze dropped to her hands. She busied herself with straightening her gloves and pretended not to hear Lord Hawthorne’s request.
    “Certainly, my lord,” Lady Trowbridge replied. Cordelia’s gaze darted to her aunt’s face just in time to catch her wicked grin. “May I present my niece? Lady Cordelia Edwards.” She nudged Cordelia with an elbow.
    Cordelia curtsied awkwardly, losing her balance. Flailing her arms forward, she caught Lord Hawthorne’s arm at the last moment and saved herself from falling flat on her face.
    Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she righted herself and realized at the same moment she still clutched his arm. She released her hold immediately, snapping her shaking hand behind her back with a gasp.
    Then he laughed. Her humiliation was complete.
    The only thing worse would have been if she had fallen prostrate, throwing her skirts up in the air and offering the whole of the ton a brilliant view of her drawers.
    She closed her eyes to hold back the barrage of tears, which were certain to come.
    “Lady Cordelia,” he said as he reached for her hand. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” His mocking smile made her stomach churn. Once more she prayed she would melt into the marble floor, never to be heard from again.
    “Manners, Cordelia,” her aunt said with another sharp poke to Cordelia’s ribs.
    “The honor is mine, my lord,” Cordelia managed to squeak out, keeping her gaze firmly on his Hessian boots as he pressed his lips to her gloved fingers.
    “Will you dance, my lady?”
    Cordelia shook her head in adamant refusal, but Lady Trowbridge shoved at her from behind with