Narcotic Mask

Chapter V

       

Heads turned at the sound of opening doors, and jaws dropped at the sight of the newest arrival. Who was this woman who deemed it appropriate to arrive a whole half hour later than everyone else?

Old ladies muttered amongst themselves in obvious disapproval, while young men exchanged looks and stared openly at the latecomer.

Georgiana felt the guests looking at her, but she didn't even seem to outwardly notice. The master of ceremonies sheepishly approached her, and she gave him her name, before stepping forwards into the room.

"The Lady Georgiana Ashford, eldest daughter of the Viscount Ashford."

●●●

Henry Worthington watched from the side of the ballroom as she entered. When he'd invited her and her more down to earth friend, he had been hoping for her to make an impression, and by the gods, she didn't disappoint.

Clothed in a dress that hugged each and every curve, the red silk was a perfect contrast against that alabaster complexion. The gown fitted her slender body like a glove, its skirts full and hiding shapely legs below, the neckline almost scandalously low, teasing at the tops of her full breasts...

The marquess forced himself to focus. Such thoughts would get him nowhere. Taking a deep breath, he excused himself from the group of young ladies who surrounded him, making his way over to where Lady Georgiana stood, still all alone. He knew that if he didn't hurry, some other man would snatch her away.

"Ah, Georgiana, you came." He smiled charmingly, his usual crooked grin returning to his lips.

"I'm never one to miss an invitation."

Damn it. Why was she so good at indifference and making everything so neutral? Why couldn't she have said something like "I could hardly resist your offer"?

"It's quite a crowd you've managed to bring here."

Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts again, and he forced a smile once more. "Yes. Yes, I suppose it is." He couldn't take his eyes off her, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that other men were watching him jealously. "Might I reserve a dance on your card, Lady Georgiana?" He may as well give them something to be jealous of.

He led her out into the centre of the ballroom as the orchestra began to play a gentle waltz. One hand rested on her waist, while his other encased hers, their bodies close from the hold but not so close as to cause scandal.

The marquess wondered if it was only his imagination, but as they danced her heard plenty of whispers amongst the other guests. He pushed any suspicion to the back of his mind. They were merely talking to one another. Instead, he focused on the breathtaking goddess with whom he was dancing, the woman he held in his arms.

"I don't believe I've seen your friend?" He questioned lightly, twirling her around in time with the other couples.

Georgiana pursed her lips, perhaps annoyed that he'd mentioned another woman. "It's a long story, but there was a little issue on our journey here, hence my lack of hairpins." She said dryly, but seeing his eyebrows raise, she laughed. "Oh, nothing like that. I promise."

The music faded to a close before Henry had a chance to say anything more, and reluctantly he bowed to his partner. In return, she sunk into a curtsey that gave him a good view down the front of her dress, before she rose again and smirked. "Perhaps I'll see you later?" She asked innocently, leaving before he could reply.

As the orchestra started a slower and more sensual piece, Henry wondered why it couldn't have been this dance he'd had with the viscount's daughter. Holding her in his arms had been exhilarating, but it hadn't lasted, and he doubted she had enjoyed it at all. She was nothing like other women. A dance with any other woman would have left her wanting more and clinging to his arm as though he was a lifeline, but not with Georgiana.