He turned his attention back to Miss Cowley as he smiled and bowed to her and she curtsied to him.
The dancing began.
Seven
Sir Geoffrey Codaire had arrived at the Dunmore ball shortly after Elizabeth and her mother. After passing along the receiving line and looking purposefully about the room, he made his way directly toward them. He paid his respects and explained that he had arrived in London the day before yesterday and had come to the ball tonight when he discovered that they were to be here.
“But however did you find that out, Sir Geoffrey?” Elizabeth’s mother asked.
“Lady Dunmore is a second cousin, ma’am,” he explained. “I made a particular point when I called upon her yesterday of asking if you and Lady Overfield were to be among her guests tonight. She assured me you were.”
“That is very flattering, I am sure,” she said, and chatted amiably with him for a few minutes before resuming her interrupted conversation with her sister-in-law and a few other ladies of her acquaintance.
Elizabeth meanwhile looked critically at him. As she remembered, he was a fine figure of a man. She felt relieved to see him, though she could wish her mind had chosen a different word. It made her seem desperate. She was also pleased to learn that he had come just because she was to be here. His interest in her had not cooled since last spring, then.
“I was delighted to discover you were to be here this evening,” he said, turning his attention to Elizabeth. “I know you do not attend many balls. I hope I have not arrived too late to engage you for the first set.”
“You have not,” she assured him. She had not exactly been besieged by would-be partners since her arrival, and it looked as though she would not even have a waltzing partner this evening. Colin had not come.
“Then I beg you to consider the first set of dances mine,” Sir Geoffrey said—and at that very moment she caught sight of Colin in the receiving line with two other young gentlemen.
Hehadcome.
It seemed absurd, watching him bowing to the very young and lovely Miss Lydia Dunmore while her mother glanced fondly and speculatively from one to the other of them, to imagine that he would eventhinkof dancing with her, Elizabeth. The ballroom was full of very young ladies, more than usual, surely, for the beginning of a Season. In his black and white evening clothes, his fair hair almost golden in the candlelight, he looked youthful and really quite dazzlingly attractive. And, of course, hugely eligible.
“I will indeed,” she told Sir Geoffrey. “Thank you.”
He remained at her side. He asked after her brother and sister-in-law and the baby before telling her about some innovations he had implemented on his farms during the past summer despite contrary advice from his neighbors and even his own steward. The yield on his fields had increased significantly as a consequence while that on his neighbors’ had not. And his pastureland…
“There is Lord Hodges, Lizzie,” her mother said, nodding across the room, her hair plumes indicating the direction.
And Elizabeth saw him again. The two gentlemen with whom he had arrived were moving away from him, and for the moment he stood alone, looking across the room at her. She smiled at him and felt inexplicably breathless. And for some absurd reason she recalled telling him—as a joke—on Christmas Eve that when one looked across a crowded room and one’s eyes alit upon that certain someone, one instantlyknew.
Knewwhat, for heaven’s sake?
“Hodges?” Sir Geoffrey said. “But, ah, yes. Lady Riverdale is his sister, is she not?”
“She is indeed,” Elizabeth said. “He spent Christmas at Brambledean with our family, and we were all very happy he did. He is a personable young man and good fun.” Even when he was hurling a wet snowball into one’s face—she had not for a moment believed his protestation that the first snowball had been intended for her shoulder.
Two ladies, strolling arm in arm about the outer edge of the dancing floor, stepped into her line of vision, and after they had passed he had turned away to join Cousin Louise and Jessica, who were both smiling at him with obvious pleasure. Poor Jessica. Last year she had cut short her very successful debut Season because she was upset that Abigail could not be with her. Yet this year Abby still refused to come to London even though Marcel, Marquess of Dorchester, her new stepfather, had assured her his influence would gain her entrée to all the most select entertainments of the Season. Jessica was going to have to learn to live for herself and not worry so much about the injustice life had dealt her very best friend, especially because at this point some of it seemed self-inflicted. Abby would find her own way, whatever it turned out to be.
Life could sometimes be cruel to the very young. And to the not-so-young too.
Perhaps Jessica and Colin…
But the dancing was about to begin. The members of the orchestra had finished tuning their instruments, lines were forming for the opening set, and the receiving line was breaking up. Lady Dunmore was presenting her daughter with her partner for this all-important first public dance of her young life.
“Shall we?” Sir Geoffrey extended a hand, and Elizabeth set her own on top of it. Colin had a partner—not Jessica. He had already led her to the line of ladies and taken his place opposite her. He was smiling, but not at his partner or anyone else, it seemed. It was not just a sociable smile. There was genuine amusement in it. Had she been close, Elizabeth would have posed the question she had asked when she joined him in the great hall on Christmas Eve—a penny for them.
He turned his head and caught her looking. She raised her eyebrows as though she really were asking the question, and his smile faded to leave him looking a bit sheepish. But Lydia Dunmore had reached the head of the line with her partner, and a chord sounded to herald the start of the dancing.
Elizabeth curtsied to Sir Geoffrey Codaire.
•••
There were to be only two waltzes, Colin discovered after the first set. It was understandable, of course. The evening was in honor of a young girl who would not be able to dance it for a while yet, and there were many other such young girls in attendance. Yet the ball would have been frowned upon if the program had not included any waltzes at all. The new dance had rapidly gained in popularity since being introduced to polite ballrooms not so long ago.
The first waltz was to be just before supper, the other sometime after. Colin thought about pushing the pleasure as far forward into the evening as possible and waiting until after supper. A few considerations made him decide otherwise. What if Elizabeth left early? Or what if he appeared at her side to claim her for the second waltz only to discover that someone else had got there ahead of him? And why waste the fact that the first waltz was also the supper dance? He would enjoy having Elizabeth’s company at supper. He hoped she would not dislike his company. But she had agreed to waltz with him at every ball they both attended.
