Above the din of music and conversation, another arrival was announced, and he was grateful it was a young married couple who had no daughter in tow. Keeping his promises to all the ladies who had called upon him before he’d taken his sabbatical, he’d signed his name to a slew of dance cards and did his best to at least pretend interest, to offer compliments and a bit of flirtation, in spite of the fact that he was bored silly.
But then he’d felt that way ever since he’d walked out of his terrace. He’d gone nowhere—not even to his favorite club—and done nothing of any consequence except see Dibble sent to prison. Other than that, he roamed his empty residence with no purpose, a kite no longer tethered in danger of crashing and being destroyed at any moment. Every morning he opened the newspaper and searched for the announcement of Fancy’s betrothal, knowing that seeing it would flay his heart, would confirm that she would never belong to him.
He couldn’t sleep, thinking of her with Beresford, contemplating how he might have handled things differently from the beginning, how he might have ensured that she was his. He barely ate, nothing tasting as fine when he wasn’t sharing the meal with her. He couldn’t even take pleasure in reading because doing so reminded him of glancing across the mews to see her sitting in her window with book in hand. Every damned thing reminded him of her. He couldn’t draw breath without thinking of her.
As he now circled the floor with the young lady in his arms, he caught snippets here and there.
Beresford.
Miss Trewlove.
Scandalous.
Why I never.
It seemed the couple was on everyone’s tongue, except for the ladies with whom he danced, but then they were more interested in impressing him by sharing everything at which they excelled rather than gossiping about the latest scandal, one that would be put to rest by night’s end.
“I’m so glad you’ve decided to return to Society.”
He hadn’t, not really, but he was so hungry for the sight of Fancy that he’d placed himself in the precarious position of having to cross paths with her and Beresford without giving away that his heart refused to release its tenacious hold on her. She and Beresford were bound to arrive together at any moment because the earl wasn’t fool enough not to accompany her and use this opportunity to demonstrate his devotion and respect for the woman whom he was to marry. It was the first ball to be held since the Collinsworth affair. It was imperative that Beresford see his lady accepted and where better to begin than with the Fairhaven ball?
“Am I boring you, my lord?”
His dance partner’s quietly spoken words jerked him from his reverie. “My apologies. It appears I’m out of practice when it comes to entertaining a dance partner.” Especially when his mind was distracted with musings of Fancy. He didn’t know what he would have said to her if he’d managed to find her outside the courtroom. But he’d had a need to hear her voice, gaze into her eyes, and assure himself that she was happy with her decision that had landed her Beresford instead of himself. Although he still had a devil of time envisioning her succumbing to trickery in order to gain her place in Society.
“I’ve been unable to decide if you’re anticipating the arrival of another debutante or planning your escape.”
He arched a brow at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“I notice your gaze keeps wandering to the doorway at the top of the stairs.”
“I find the announcement of arrivals distracting, and my gaze naturally leaps—”
“It’s more than that.” Perhaps the chit wasn’t as flighty as he’d first thought. “I think you’re looking for someone in particular.”
“You would have the wrong of it.”
“You’re an awful liar.”
He gave her a pointed look. “It does not serve a lady well when in search of a husband to call a prospective suitor a liar.”
“That might hold if you were in search of a wife—which you are not—and I were in want of a husband—which I am not.”
“Every unattached woman here is in want of a husband.”
“Not I. I want to be as independent as Miss Trewlove.”
Even as his heart tightened at the sound of her name, he scoffed. “Miss Trewlove. So independent she tricks a lord into marriage.”
Her delicate brow furrowed as she blinked repeatedly at him. “Are you referring to the Beresford debacle?”
“Debacle? She got what she wanted. She’s marrying a lord.”
“Whoever told you that?”
She did!But for some reason, his mouth wouldn’t form the words. He was trying to recall exactly what Fancy had told him. “I know she was caught in a compromising position. I know she tricked him—”
“Absolutely not. She’s a lady of integrity. She’d never do such a thing. Lord Beresford arranged the entire artifice, shame on him. Told my brother, as they are best mates, and a couple of his friends to gather some ladies on the veranda near the window that looked into the library. Then he got Miss Trewlove into the room and promptly kissed her. Knowing the lady as I do, I rather suspect she wanted only to see the rare Bible in Collinsworth’s possession, not be accosted by Beresford.”
