~ An Accomplished Lady ~

by

S. D. Grady

“I trust your afternoon was spent pleasantly, Miss Fairweather. It seems to have returned some color to your cheeks.”

Fiona blushed deeper. “Thank you, my lord. A pleasant afternoon indeed.” She could not seem to still an odd flutter in her stomach. “I trust your staff have not put themselves out just for me.” Fiona was having a difficult time adjusting to this change in her perception of her traveling companion. When had he become a devilishly handsome gentleman that made her heart race?

Walter only raised his eyebrow in question.

Fiona gestured to his attire. “Such formality for a dinner at home,” she mumbled.

Walter looked at his evening wear. He smiled. “I’m afraid this is old habit. Dinner amongst the ton is almost always a state occasion.”

Fiona plucked at her dress. For the past few months she had given little thought to style, she could never get past the grey.

“You need not worry, Miss Fairweather. I find that when I am in your company, I notice little else save for your kind face.”

Fiona looked at Walter. He was serious. No hint of jest twinkled in his eyes. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper. Fiona stood for an eternity and tried to fathom just what it was she found so mesmerizing in his eyes. They, she could swear, held a dangerous glint--an intent. And it was everything she could do not to ask him what it was.

Humphries’ “He-hem!” rent the silence. “Dinner is served, my lord.”

Through the delicious and beautifully served meal, Fiona’s hands shook. She sat to the right of Lord Rocheford. She spoke little and evaded his piercing gaze. Her hands reached absently for an errant strand of hair, but found nothing to pat into place. Tina’s pins were actually working!

Walter couldn’t help but grinning. She was like a fresh colt, skittish but curious. It had grabbed him with an iron vise when she walked into the drawing room. He sensed in her the awareness he mutually felt for her.

Perhaps she had been more than distracted during the long journey south. Perhaps her grief was still raw and eating away at her every thought. And perhaps, he grinned to himself, she was finally ready to move on with her life.

The sedentary predator in him had come to life when she had entered the drawing room this evening. Walter responded instantly to her feminine gasp of delight and the eager way her eyes had caressed his body. Now he was sitting here contemplating his next move. What did he want to do? He understood that she was spoken for, but he also knew that if she had another choice, Fiona had the mind and money to take the chance. Did he dare put the idea in her mind? He was beginning to think it a fine idea.

The thought was intoxicating; showing Miss Fairweather that there was indeed much more to a man and a woman then a cold contract of betrothal entered into two decades ago. Walter tried to soothe her nerves throughout the meal with idle chatter. It didn’t appear to be working. She twitched with every movement he made. Perhaps he would be a fool to pass up on such an opportunity. He could almost feel her heart thrumming with anticipation. Dinner could not end soon enough.

When the dessert plates were removed and a bottle of port placed before Lord Rocheford, Fiona moved to rise. “I’ll leave you to your port, my lord.”

“Not necessary, Miss Fairweather. I have no interest in it this evening. I thought I would share your cup of tea, if that is quite all right?”

Fiona merely nodded and led the way back into the drawing room. There she considered the possibilities. The room was papered in white and gold with the satin upholstery and plush carpeting a deep royal blue with gold accents. As always, elegant and correct. A chaise stood closest to her, Fiona sank onto it blindly. Why she would be so distracted she just wasn’t able to work out in her mind. The door closed behind her with an almost silent click. A heavy weight settled next to her on the chaise.

Fiona snapped her head around. “Miss Fairweather,” Walter began. “I find I am thinking about you.”

“You are?” Fiona squeaked.

“Yes. You see, last night you told me that you must go to Roger Ranly because he was promised to you. You never mentioned how you felt.”

“Felt?”

“Hmmm,” Walter thrummed deep in his throat. Walter’s face hovered mere inches from Fiona’s and his green eyes flashed. “I have become quite fond of you and I wouldn’t want you to do something so drastic as marry this good gentleman merely out of convention.”

“You wouldn’t?” Fiona felt like an idiot. All she could think of was his lips and the seductive heat that escaped them when he breathed.

“I want you to promise me something.”

Fiona nodded, like she was drugged, caught in the spell of his eyes, breath and teasing lips.

“When you kiss Roger Ranly, just try to think did it feel something like this…”

~ * ~

Fiona stood in her room and stared into the flames on the small hearth. Her skin felt flushed, her heart beat with an odd rhythm and her smile would not wane. Parts of her that she never knew existed, ached and yearned for the return of his touch.

However, deep in her mind she waged a war of confusion. The promise to Roger lay there like a leaden weight. And the memory of a child’s kiss shared with a friend taunted her with its disinterest.

Was it possible that she would feel this glorious way when she met Roger again? Or would old ways resurface and torment her for all her life? She wanted to scream in delight and beat the pleased look on Lord Rocheford’s face at the same time. What had he done to her?

What little acceptance Fiona had found for her future now lay in tatters before her. She was sure sleep would not find her this night.