Meet Me at Midnight (Romance, Completed)

Chapter 12

"May I have this dance?" Gregory asked. He looked especially dashing in white breeches and a silver-edged mask.

"Of course." I could barely breathe, and it wasn't all down to my overly tight corset. It was well after eleven o'clock—why hadn't Midnight messaged me yet?

I tucked my phone into my faux-fur muff as Gregory offered me his hand, my insides churning. I'd spent all day psyching myself up for the big talk with Midnight, and if he didn't show, my nerves would snap like a frayed elastic band.

Twenty minutes ago, I'd already had one crisis of confidence and dragged Angie away from her date, the dark-haired man with the fancy watch. Sure, my sister might have been brash at times, but tonight, she'd fixed up my hair in the downstairs cloakroom and given me a hug as I agonised over my decision. Midnight or Gregory?

"Just do what's right for you," she'd said. "I'll have your back no matter what."

"I love you. Did I ever tell you that?"

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Too much. Not enough."

Then I'd cried and she'd redone my make-up too.

Now, Gregory held me close for a foxtrot, and I prayed he wouldn't feel my heart pounding in my chest, and also that I wouldn't suffer a cardiac arrest in front of two hundred slightly inebriated partygoers. The foxtrot turned into a waltz, and I was saved from the tango when he spotted a familiar face across the ballroom.

"Would you excuse me a moment, Augusta? That's Dr. Langston, and I need to speak with him about a referral. We've been playing voicemail tennis for days."

"Of course."

Out in the hallway, I checked my phone again. Whatever happened, this was the last night I'd be waiting on tenterhooks for a message from Midnight, so I had to take a small comfort from that at least.

Breath whooshed from me as I read the words lit up on the screen.

Mr. M: Meet me at midnight. Your desk, the pool house. Bring your filthy mind.

Oh, hell. When he wrote words like that, it only made what I needed to say to him all the more difficult. I stared down at my hands, shaking as they clutched my phone. Why couldn't one of the men in my life have been an arsehole and made my decision easier?

Gregory met me with a glass of wine when I walked back into the ballroom, and boy did I need it. I necked half of it back before I realised what I was doing, much to his consternation.

"Is everything okay?"

"I've got a few stomach cramps."

"Oh. Is it that time of—"

"Shhh!"

He looked a little sheepish. "Sorry, darling. Speaking as a doctor, wine isn't the best thing for that. Can I get you a painkiller? Or a hot water bottle?"

Yes, after a rocky start, Gregory really did get sweeter with every passing day. "I think I just need a good night's sleep."

"Of course. Let me walk you back home."

"Mother won't be happy if I leave early."

"I'll speak to her. Don't you worry about it. I do wish on occasion that our mothers would learn to mind their own business, but then I wouldn't be here with you."

I managed a smile, despite my insides doing backflips. "We have to forgive them for that one."

Gregory handed our glasses to a passing waiter and slid an arm around my waist. The way his hand rested on my hip when he did that was beginning to feel natural. Comfortable. Like I could get used to snuggling into him for the rest of my life as he lent me his strength to get through the tough times.