Eric pressed his lips together, battling back the paternal voice inside him that urged him to damn his good intentions to hell, to deny her claim, and to safeguard his little girl.
The problem with heeding that voice was threefold.
First and foremost, he'd just made a vow to Brigitte, a vow to try to be a little less overprotective with regard to Noelle.
Second, he'd be lying. He did like Ashford Thornton. After three days of talking with—and scrutinizing—the man, Eric was convinced that Ashford was decent, principled, and dedicated to his family. In fact, the only glaringly unfavorable trait about the earl was his obvious attraction to Noelle—an attraction that Ashford kept carefully in check but which was indisputably visible to Eric, not only because he was a man but because he was Noelle's father.
And last, but certainly not least, was the third reason Eric couldn't deny Noelle's claim—a reason he couldn't blame on Ashford Thornton, but on life itself. Quite simply, he mused with more than a twinge of regret, Brigitte was right. The little girl he still longed to safeguard was no more.
Sometime between a heartbeat ago and now, she had become a woman.
"Papa?" Noelle repeated, an earnest pucker forming between her brows.
"Yes, Noelle, I like him better now," Eric replied, automatically smoothing the pucker away with his forefinger. "And apparently so do you." A swift intake of breath. "All I ask is that you temper your fascination with the earl until you've had the opportunity to meet a few other gentlemen—and until you have a better idea what Lord Tremlett's intentions towards you are."
"Speaking of Lord Tremlett's intentions, we'd best hurry and have ourselves announced," Brigitte inserted. "The earl spied us about ten seconds ago. He's on his way over."
Noelle's head whipped around, and she watched as Ashford wove his way through the crowd, his gaze fixed purposefully on her.
He halted several yards away, waiting politely while Eric guided his family forward.
"Lord and Lady Farrington, and Lady Noelle," the footman heralded their entrance.
"Nice of you to wait, Tremlett," Eric informed Ashford dryly as they encountered him a dozens steps later. "I was half-afraid you intended to accost us in the doorway."
Noelle almost groaned aloud.
Ashford, on the other hand, looked amused, a corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Accosting is not my forte, sir. You have my word on that." He turned to bow to Brigitte. "Lady Farrington, you look lovely."
"Thank you, my lord." Brigitte acknowledged the compliment graciously, then glanced about the room. "How elegant everything looks. Your parents should be commended—this entire event, all three days, have been delightful."
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves. Yes, Mother works endlessly planning this event each year. And I'm proud to say that thousands of pounds are always raised. In fact," Ashford added with great satisfaction, "Father tells me we've exceeded last year's donations by over ten thousand pounds. I needn't tell you what a difference that will make to some needy parishes."
"No, you needn't." Brigitte's eyes grew damp. "God bless your parents. They're quite remarkable."
"I agree." Ashford's gaze shifted to Noelle, unconcealed admiration and approval registering on his face. "Good evening, Lady Noelle." His gaze swept her from head to toe. "You look breathtaking."
So do you. Noelle wanted to say, unable to tear her eyes off him. He looked striking, magnificent, his black wool suit and white silk waistcoat fitting him to perfection, the essence of elegance—yet worn with that irreverent air that was Ashford. He was all polished charm and propriety.
Beneath which lay that heated charisma that made Noelle's breath catch, made everything inside her melt and slide down to her toes.
"Lord Farrington, may I have the honor of dancing with your daughter?" he was asking, still drinking in Noelle with his eyes.
The barest pause. Then: "Yes, Tremlett, you may."
Noelle glanced gratefully at her father. "Thank you, Papa," she murmured.
She placed her hand in Ashford's, letting him lead her onto the floor and into a waltz.
"My first ball," Noelle pronounced, excitement singing through her. She peered about, then lifted her enchanted gaze to Ashford's. "And you're my first partner."
"Good," he returned fervently, those compelling orange sparks flaring in his eyes. "I want to be your first at everything."
She swallowed. "So far, you have been."
"I know." His jaw set, and his heated stare swept over her with restless intensity as he whirled her about the room. "You have no idea how beautiful you look tonight."
"It only seems that way because you haven't seen me—other than from a distance—in days, since I trounced you at the whist table three nights ago, in fact. Ever since then, you've either been horse racing, playing billiards, or—"