“I have been informed by His Grace that I reserved the next set with you,” he said. “But will you mind terribly if I leave you standing, so to speak?”
“In order to rush away never to be heard from again?” she said. “Yes, I am afraid I do mind, Lord Hodges, unless you have already reserved the set with someone else. Sir Geoffrey Codaire has caused dreadful embarrassment for Elizabeth. I do not know what got into him. It seems so unlike him. Jealousy, perhaps? You are a very good-looking man, you know, and years younger than he.” Her eyes laughed into his. “Come. Join the set with me for the Roger de Coverley. I must insist. I will not be a wallflower at my own ball.”
He danced with her. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, aware as he was at every moment of speculative eyes upon him. He knew it was difficult for the duchess too. This was her home and her ball. Her husband was at this very moment trying to quell possible scandal, an impossibility even for him. Neither he nor any of the other four people who had left the ballroom had reappeared.
What the devil had he done?Hadany of it been at least partly his fault? What could he do now to put things right? Continue to dance and smile? Leave? But he had not yet danced with Miss Eglington, and he had told both her and Ross when he met them this morning on Oxford Street that he would. But would she still want to dance with him? Would Ross want it? And he had reserved the second waltz of the evening with Miss Dunmore. Would her mother still want him to honor his promise? Would Miss Dunmore?
Good God, this was all dashed nightmarish.
And it was hideously unfair to Elizabeth. In a few weeks time she was going tomarryCodaire. And she had such high hopes about it. What sort of a marriage was it likely to be? Was it going to be any better than her first marriage? Was it going to be worse? If the man was capable of losing his temper and humiliating her publicly as he just had, what might he be capable of in private?
It was really none of his business.
Except that somehow it was. He was the one who had been the inadvertent cause of a scene that would be played and replayed in fashionable drawing rooms for days to come. And the gossip had already begun. A single glance about the room made that perfectly obvious. Everyone was careful to avoid his eye.
He danced from instinct, without giving the steps and the figures any conscious attention. He horribly neglected his dancing partner. Though he was smiling, he realized when he checked.
“Thank you, Lord Hodges,” the duchess said, taking his arm at the end of the dance and leading him in the direction of Wren, who had also been dancing.
Colin fixed his eyes upon the sister he loved, tall and beautiful and elegant. But when he was still a short distance away from her he switched his perception and saw also the purple birthmark all down the left side of her face. Most of the time he was unaware of the blemish, as he believed all those who loved her were. He looked at her and saw only Wren. But he wondered now if she still had to muster all her courage every time she stepped outside the safety of her own home to face people who might stare or grimace or outright turn away from her.
It was terrible to feel conspicuous.
“Ought I to stay?” he asked his sister after the duchess had moved away.
“Yes, I am afraid so,” she said, slipping an arm through his. “And so must I. Take me to the refreshment tables, Colin.”
“Wasit my fault?” he asked her. “Was I embarrassing her? Was I making a spectacle of her?”
“Absolutely not to your first two questions,” she assured him. “Though I was not really watching. I was waltzing with Alexander. But Elizabethisa spectacle tonight—in the best possible way. It is the whole point. This is her betrothal ball, and it would be strange indeed if all eyes were not upon her. Anna and I persuaded her to wear the gold and bronze gown because it draws attention to her beauty. Now I wonder…Colin, is it wise for her to marry Sir Geoffrey? I have been a little concerned since meeting him, I must confess. Or perhapsdisappointedwould be the better word, for he seems to be staid and serious and…well, dull. I have understood why Elizabeth chose him, but I have thought that maybe she ought to have chosen someone with more…What word am I looking for? Light? Joy? Humor? Someone who can bring out the sparkle that is there at the core of Elizabeth and shows itself all too rarely. I have thought that perhaps she deceives herself when she believes that a life of quiet decorum is what will suit her best. Only she knows what will make her happy, of course, but…Butnow, Colin? What did he mean by going after you like that, and so publicly?”
He took two glasses of punch off a tray and handed one to her.
“I don’t know,” he said, but his sister’s words only underlined his own uneasiness for Elizabeth. “But if Netherby had not arrived on the scene when he did, I might have forgotten myself sufficiently to slap a glove in Codaire’s face. It does not bear thinking about, does it? But he accusedElizabethof embarrassing him. How? By smiling and even laughing as she waltzed with me? By openly enjoying herself?”
“I am very glad, then, that Averydidarrive on the scene,” she said.
The dancing had resumed, Colin saw, but still none of the five absentees had reappeared. But he did notice his friend Ross was dancing with Miss Eglington.
“What is happening out there, Wren?” he asked. “Ought I to go and find out? Apologize? But to whom? It would go much against the grain to apologize to Codaire, but if it will make things easier for Elizabeth, I—”
But now he spotted Netherby strolling into the ballroom and stopping to look languidly about him for a few moments before moving off to mingle with some guests who were not dancing. Alexander appeared a few moments later, saw them almost immediately, and came briskly toward the refreshment tables, smiling cheerfully.
There was no sign of either Elizabeth or Mrs. Westcott.
Or of Sir Geoffrey Codaire.
•••
Avery directed them past the salons that had been opened for the use of guests and on downstairs to the library. Two footmen hastened inside ahead of them to light candles, then closed the door behind them as they left.
Avery offered Elizabeth’s mother one of the comfortable leather chairs beside the fireplace before crossing the room to seat himself in the far corner, as though to distance himself from the confrontation he had set up. Alexander took a stand before the unlit fire. Elizabeth stood inside the door, having shaken her head when Avery indicated the chair across from her mother. Sir Geoffrey strode to the middle of the room. He held up a hand before anyone else could speak.
“I have something to say,” he said. “It is for Elizabeth, but I am happy to say it in front of the present company, since Mrs. Westcott and Riverdale are personally concerned and this is Netherby’s home, and he and the duchess have been good enough to host this event in celebration of our betrothal.”
He paused, though no one seemed inclined to interrupt him or to offer to leave him alone with Elizabeth.
“I am deeply sorry,” he said. “I was concerned about appearances and was unfortunately unaware that I was speaking loudly enough to be overheard by other people in addition to the one I was addressing.”
