Chapter 7
1580 Words
Her strides were quiet but her heavy breathing was noisy. Remembering those dark orbs had her tangle on the corset's ribbons as she ties it with shaking fingers. She chose to ignore it after a while of struggle and resumed zipping her gown.
What she saw was a private thing and she was an intruder—a Peeping Tom for that matter. But she didn't know they were there. And she doesn't know they were in the middle of the deed. Though, she should have left the moment she saw their bold position.
Still, she was curious. And she can't deem herself to move when the man stares at her too intensely. She can still remember vividly the way he looks. His rich black eyes directly at hers, penetrating her soul as if she is the one he is taking. The way his jaw clenched with practiced control and as his lips twitch for a mocking smile challenging her to watch.
And she did.
She did not look away.
For the first time, appearing in the outside world, she wasn't expecting to meet such a brazen man.
He should have stopped when he saw her. He should be ashamed and scared that she might speak of it. Something that would taint the reputation of his and the woman he is with. Instead, he continued and openly showed their intimacy.
When she heard the music finally close, she pulled herself together and came rushing down the ballroom as soon as she finds herself presentable. Her coiffure turned a bit messy from all her brisk walking.
"Where have you been?" Gerjen asked her when she passed.
She stopped. "Roaming."
"Well, you look flushed," Alice commented.
"It's too crowded in here."
"Let's have a respite then. Let's have a seat with the ladies," Clara suggested.
Gerjen clung her arm around hers, giving her no choice but to go along with them. They went to the drawing－room where some of the ladies sat down and rest when they had enough of dancing and standing. The group of women was all smiles as they got near and they gave up their seats just so they could sit. Gerjen was looking proud of the benefits of a newly acquired well-respected friend.
Amelia slowly sat down as she looks around, passing every of the ladies' faces. She stopped when she saw a woman sipping her glass of wine and smirking against it.
Amanda was sitting not far from her. And unlike others, she was alone in one corner but not far enough from the group.
The women started talking about the latest gossips and she was silent, merely listening. Despite her not engaging in the conversation, the ladies consistently look at her whenever they talk and measure her expression as they laugh.
"Have you seen Lance Salvatore?" one woman asked, smiling widely.
"We did. I mean who would not?" Clara said.
"He changed," Alice commented. "In a good way."
The women looked at each other meaningfully. Only she did not understand what they were meant to imply. Then it struck her.
Lance.
The man in the room a while ago?
From the woman's agitated constant calling of his name on that room, his name has etched on her mind. But she wasn't certain if that man and these ladies are talking about is the same.
They all heard Amanda chuckle. She wasn’t participating in the conversation a while ago as well but upon the mention of her brother, the woman cannot help her reaction.
The ladies glared at Amanda. Clearly, the woman was not welcomed there but then she still chose to stay and bear the company of these resentful ladies.
"Miss Amelia," someone called.
She turned and saw a tall man standing upright behind her with a smile on his lips.
"That's Sir Stephen Salvatore," Gerjen whispered from beside her.
Related to Lance－the one they are talking about, she presumed.
"Are your dance card filled, Miss?" Stephen Salvatore asked, his smile growing as she looks back at him for a long time.
No one has approached her yet to dance and she has no plans on dancing this evening. Besides, she has to ask for her father’s permission for her dancing partner.
The lively music erupted and, from the drawing-room, she saw pairs went to the middle of the hall to dance the quadrille.
"I—"
"I am aware that this would be your first time. Allow me to accompany you to this dance. I am good with my feet and I can certainly help you with your movements," Stephen said without letting her finish what she is about to say.
It was a usual occurrence for her to look longer directly into people's eyes. It sends them off eventually. But this man did not waver. His smile is still wide and welcoming.
"As you say, Sir, I am not well accustomed. Therefore you should find another partner." She roamed her eyes around. "Lots of women are just waiting for you to ask them," she said, passing her eyes to every maiden on the group she is with who is watching the two of them converse.
"Well, that's a shame for them—" Stephen murmured. "—because I want to dance with you, Miss, not them. It isn't a heavy request, is it?"
He reached for her hand and she looked at it with contempt. He is very quick to assume that she wants to be touched or he stupidly thinks she is just leisurely elongating the conversation and then by the end, she will accept.
No one dares to touch her. He is the first one to do such a thing without her consent.
He won't stop until he gets what he wants, she concluded. Despite the bright smile, this type of man is controlling, manipulative. They want everything to go according to what they desire. Selfish—a simple word to describe it.
"I'm afraid I haven't made myself clear, Sir," she said then snatched her hand away discreetly, not wanting to start a show but it already seems as it is. "I don't want to dance."
That is when his smile finally wavered but remembering that they had an audience, he put his smile back. "It is just one dance," he pressed.
"Indeed, Miss Amelia. It's only a dance. Surely you could indulge the man. He is completely smitten by you," one lady said, giggling.
She roamed her eyes around the group, their smiles were encouraging but she is not encouraged at all.
"You're pressuring the young lady too much, brother. I didn't know you would be so ungentlemanly."
A series of gasps erupted around her as another man joins in. She glanced and immediately looks away when she found out who it was.
"Sir Lance Salvatore, fine of you to grace us with your presence," Gerjen said in such a tone Amelia finds very disturbing.
It was too feminine, too sultry unlike a while ago. This time, it seems as if the woman is forcing herself to sound something she is not.
"Ladies." Lance bowed.
Alice gestured to Stephen. "Your brother, here, wants to dance with Miss Amelia. For certain you can encourage the Miss to accept."
"I can do nothing about that, Miss Alice," Lance said.
Alice, thrilled that he knew her name, seems to have caught her breath then lingered her eyes among the group as if letting the others envy her.
"It is the Miss' choice," Lance continued.
Amelia breathed deep then stood up. She had enough of this. Facing the two men, she looked at them intently. They are siblings, as she had heard, but she sees no resemblance at all. Her eyes settled on Stephen, not wanting to stare at Lance longer for she only remembers what she had witnessed a while ago.
"Just one."
Stephen nodded. "One."
She took his hand and he finally guided her to the hall where the dance has already started. His hand rested on her waist and she felt a slight discomfort upon that contact. Still, she held it in and endured being within his grasp.
"Do you hate to dance with me that much that you cannot even look as if you're enjoying," Stephen suddenly said.
She looked up at him. "I told you I am not well accustomed to this."
"I doubt it," he said then looked at her feet. "You have graceful movements and not once did you fall behind any step." He raised his head. "You just don't really like to dance with me."
Amelia did not even feel an inch of embarrassment from being caught with her lies. But she admits she did not expect the man to be observant to notice her actions.
She caught him moving his face closer. But she did not move away. If so, she turned her face upwards more, challenging him on how far he will go and end these abrupt advances.
He moved his face to her side and whispered, "Be careful with my brother."
By the time the music was lying low, a sign that the dance will end and a new one will start, Stephen took a step backward. Then she noticed the man behind her current dance partner. He looks too rugged looking and his eyes, directly on hers, express such intense emotions.
"I believe it's my turn then," Lance said with a wide grin on his face.
#DTSOAM
- Writer
