.
My goodness, I don't think I've gone to hide during a ball since I was fourteen.
The thought that she had resorted to the same coping mechanisms that she had used as a teenager was not a pleasing one, and Lacey put it out of her head. If only she could put Robert out of her head as easily.
The problem was that as soon as she squashed down one memory, another came up to take its place, and no matter what she did, she couldn't free herself of the knowledge that their time together was truly over.
Don't be such a silly goose. This is exactly what you wanted. You have absolutely no right to ask him for more.
Of course, it hadn't felt like that when she looked across the Winsteads' gala and saw Robert paired in the dance. Lacey had never thought of herself as a particularly jealous person, but at that moment, it was as if acid poured through her veins. She couldn't stop staring at Robert's lean form squiring the girl—a delicate beauty with stunning auburn hair—around the dance floor.
If she were going to be an utterly fair human being, she would wish him well and understand that she had no hold on him at all. Instead, her nerve broke entirely, and she ended up in the garden, taking in great lungfuls of air as she tried to exorcise the vision of Robert looking down in adoration at that auburn-haired girl.
The Winsteads' garden was lovely in the daytime, and at night, it took on a kind dark glamour. Most people kept to the parts lit by the lamps close to the house, but recklessly, Lacey pressed into the darker areas of the garden, where the lights were fewer and the way narrower. She came to rest in a small garden nook containing a sundial, and for a little while, she simply sat on the bench nearby, thinking of nothing, trying not to feel anything at all.
Then footsteps sounded on the gravel path, and when she looked up, she felt her heart beat faster, like a bird fluttering furious wings in her ribcage. Robert looked at her, his face expressionless, and then he crossed the narrow space to come close to her.
“What are you—?”
She gasped as he pulled her into his arms, his eyes as dark as the night around them, and something cruel in the twist of his mouth.
“Seeing as you've had your satisfaction from me, I feel it is only fair that I take mine from you.”
Before Lacey could say anything, Robert's hand came back to cup the back of her neck, and he pulled her in for a deep kiss. Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help but go soft in his embrace, her hands going from warding him off to pulling him closer, her head tilting back to drink in more of this man who touched her like no one else ever had.
I need him, I love him, I need him
The words echoed in her head, and it was like realizing something she had known for a long time. She had no idea when she had fallen in love with Robert, but the fact that she had was as immutable and real as granite. She clung to him, and when he finally broke the kiss, she uttered a soft cry of dismay.
The sardonic look he gave her chilled her blood. “If that is what you are offering, I should have asked for more when we made this bargain. As it is, I am well-satisfied. I'll be leaving for London in the morning.”
“Robert!”
“What is it, Miss Welton? Do you have further work for me? If you do, I warn you that my price has gone up.”
Robert stepped back from her and she felt cold and then hot as his eyes traveled over her from head to toe. When she had been in his arms before, she had felt as if she was flying. This was like being slapped with a handful of mud.
“Robert, stop this at once. Don't you dare make out that this was... was some kind of game.”
“Oh, but it was, Miss Welton, and you have won. May your victory be everything you dreamed it was.”
Lacey felt her heart crack open, and she couldn't stand it anymore. She stepped around him and ran for the house, but she didn't stop there. Instead, she hurriedly told Lady Winstead she was ill and that her mother should proceed home at her own pace. The lady protested, telling her she could stay and sleep in one of the guest rooms, but Lacey shook her head.
“No, Lady Winstead, I feel if I don't get back to my own bed, I shall surely die. If I could just trouble you for the loan of a barouche...”
The light barouche was faster by far than the carriage she had arrived in, and she ached for home. As she left the lights of the Winstead gala, she wondered how in the world she was going to face the morning.