VI. – Snatched
She had completely given up hope, when it happened.
It was at one of the flashy London soirees only a couple of short months since she had arrived in England. The glittering elite were milling about in their rich silks and satins and fine Mechlin lace, chattering and laughing over jokes and the forthcoming dances and what their hostess had selected for the dessert that evening.
And in the midst of the gaiety, the haze of blackness around Yvonne's heart parted just enough for her to have her breathe snatched quickly from her.
After having her first kiss so ruthlessly stolen, she was startled that having her breathe taken away was not the unpleasant experience she would have expected. The fear still lingered, but there was something else. Something tingling sweetly within the pit of her belly…something that twisted deliciously up through her chest and made her cheeks blush soft pink.
He was (as she discovered later that evening) a gentleman by the name of Lord Anthony Dewhurst; one of the handsomest, wealthiest young men in England – and he had turned his soft, dark brown eyes to hers.
His had widened in surprise, and he had opened his mouth as if startled, but no words had come. Yvonne, on the other hand, found herself staring openly at the fine structure of his form, revealed perfectly by the exquisite cut of his satin coat and breeches in a masculine shade of rich, shimmering tan. Her blood warmed and her cheeks felt hot. Such thoughts were surely improper, and yet they were foremost on her mind: he was incredibly attractive.
But before she could shyly flirt her lashes and bring the young man closer, her father claimed her hand, leading her firmly away to a small gaggle of elderly businessmen and nobles, which included Martin-Roget, who took her arm in his immediately.
Disappointed at the turn of events, she caught herself trying to find the young Lord Dewhurst once more, confused by the emotions that had warred within her for that brief moment. She saw him standing near several of his English friends, and his eyes often strayed to hers.
Her father finally demanded, in a stern voice, that she should be attentive to Martin-Roget, and Yvonne reluctantly obeyed.