Page 29 of Holly & Folly

“Kiss the one you love the most!” called out Lord Weymouth.

“Thank you, Freddie,” the earl said.

Nell willed her body to relax. Surely, Lord Dalmeer would not⁠—

He faced her again, always with that twinkle of humor and enjoyment in his brown eyes.

She was tempted to take him by the throat and shake him, yet her sense of the ridiculous was too strong to do anything but laugh. Any fear she had harbored of having frightened him into subtlety fled like pigeons at a gunshot.

Had he not promised to strike the balance between flirtation and intention? Three forfeits surely tilted toward the latter, though she could not deny that their audience seemed more amused than scandalized.

Lord Dalmeer met her gaze. “Kiss, you say?” he asked loudly as his gaze dipped to her lips.

Nell’s stomach somersaulted.

Two other guests had given kisses on the cheek as forfeits. Lord Dalmeer could not be so dismissive of propriety that he would kiss her on the lips in front of every guest at the party, even to teach his mother a lesson. He had promised to safeguard her reputation.

He took a step closer, and it was all Nell could do to breathe, to say nothing of keeping the smile on her face.

His eyes, no longer sparkling, seemed to ask do you trust me?

Sudden fear gripped her. She had trusted him, but perhaps she had been too quick to do so, just as she had been too quick to believe Henry’s assurances that he loved her and would care for her all their lives.

Lord Dalmeer reached for her hands, gripped tightly below her chest.

She surrendered one to him, and he lifted it away from her, slowly brought it to his lips, and pressed them to the back of her glove.

A laugh bubbled up inside her, emerging shaky but genuine—and full of relief.

The guests seemed to breathe a collective sigh, and a number of chuckles rippled through the drawing room.

The earl’s gaze lifted to Nell’s, and this time, his smile said you should not have doubted me. She marveled at how he could be so pointed with his attentions but do it with such a light touch that laughter and smiles abounded amongst the guests.

With the exception of his mother.

Nell’s immense relief made her want to box his ears—a desire she shared with Lady Dalmeer, no doubt—but she determined instead to have her revenge upon him at the soonest opportunity.

The game proceeded, though the countess showed a bit less enthusiasm than before. The guests had drawn nearer the front for a better view, making an appreciable gap between them and Nell and Lord Dalmeer.

“Were you going somewhere?” Lord Dalmeer asked her as someone tried their hand at stealing the mistletoe again.

Nell’s gaze flicked to Mr. Fowell, who wore a slight frown as he watched the game.

“I thought so,” Lord Dalmeer said, following her focus. “Well, you needn’t leave. I shall remain with you.”

“It is kind of you,” she said, “but I rather think you have done enough for one evening.”

His mouth stretched into a grin. “And yet, I have only just begun. I have already seen two gentlemen look back here at you since my forfeits. I would say you are well on your way to becoming another one of Mother’s successes.”

“I very much doubt she would regard it that way.”

“Oh, at this point, she would be delighted to see you find success with anyone but me.”

A sliver of hurt lodged itself in Nell’s chest, but she brushed it off. “She wants to see you happy.”

He shot her a quizzical look. “How very charitable you are.” His eyes narrowed as he regarded her more fully. “Except with yourself, I think.”

“Oh, I hold myself in the very highest esteem, I assure you.”