Dancing with the Viscount (Howertys Prequel Novella)

Chapter 8: Garden Stroll

Amelia cursed herself as she came to a stop in a corner of the garden, hidden behind some trees. It was darker in this part, the garden walls obstructing the moonlight filtering between the branches, and no lanterns had been placed this far out. What had she done? She groaned. She had allowed Preston to kiss her. Preston! And it had been glorious. That might be the worst part. This was all wrong. It wasn't Preston that should kiss her, and she certainly should not be enjoying it.

Subconsciously, her hand came up to touch her mouth with hesitant fingers. The silk of her gloves was cool against her lips, but the memory of Preston's kiss was anything but cold. Blast!

"Amelia?" His voice cut through her annoyance and she automatically took a step towards it before remembering herself and backing further into her corner. She didn't want to see him. It was mortifying to think how easily she had melted into his embrace. How her fingers had buried in his hair. What must he think of her?

"Please," he continued, and she saw his dark form coming from behind a row of bushes, the moonlight streaking his dark hair with silver. "Can we talk about this?"

She didn't want to talk. If she was absolutely honest, she wanted to keep kissing him, and that just wouldn't do. Preston was not who she wanted. Pensington. I want Pensington. The marquess, however, obviously had no interest in her. But she could not kiss Preston. He was her brother's friend. He was a rake. He was almost everything she wanted. With another quiet expletive, she backed another step, and a loud crack reverberated through the evening air as she stepped on a twig.

Preston's head snapped in her direction, the angles of his face in sharp relief in the faint moonlight. "Amelia?"

Frozen on the spot, she didn't dare to move. Barely dared to breathe. He was looking in her direction, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see past the darkness. Her insides lurched as he walked towards her, coming in underneath the tree branches. Standing still, he appeared to be searching the area for a sign of her.

"I can see your dress," he said after another moment. "I won't stay if you truly do not wish to speak to me, but I am hoping you will."

She sighed. Why had she chosen a white dress? Next time, she would wear something dark and muted. Just in case she wanted to hide. "No," she muttered. "It's fine. It was childish to run away from you."

"You had every reason to. I should never have kissed you." He shifted from one foot to the other as his hand came up to rake through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Amelia... That was badly done of me. And highly improper."

He couldn't see her wry smile, so she let out a small scoff. She had basically taunted him to do it. Finding out he was attracted to her had been exhilarating. She had been berating herself for days after realising she was jealous about the attention he was giving other young ladies. To discover he didn't only see her as Adrian's annoying little sister had been... A revelation. And she had wanted him to kiss her. So foolish. She should know better.

"No need to apologise," she said. "We were both caught up in the moment. It's easy to do foolish things under the cover of darkness."

"But I do need to apologise." He breached the distance between them and took her hand in his. Bringing it to his face, he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I am the more experienced one here. I should know better."

The simple touch sent a warm shiver along her arm, and she snatched her hand back. His arm fell limply to his side. Perhaps he thought she was rejecting his touch. Deciding it was safer if he believed that, she did not deprive him of the notion.

"Are you implying I'm too young and naïve to know what I want?" she said, her tone suitably icy.

"No, I—" He fell silent before letting out a warm chuckle. "Well, I suppose I am."