“You’re thirty years old,” Lewis countered. “I’d say you’re at the perfect age to get married.”
“And what of you? Am I the only one who should be shackled by marriage? Won’t you find your countess so that you may have your heir?”
Gideon’s amusement deepened when a blush stained Lewis’ cheeks. His friend had never been very good at hiding things. For a while now, Gideon had begun to wonder if Lewis wascourting someone—and it seemed he might be right on the mark, seeing that Lewis was having a hard time meeting Gideon’s eyes.
“You’re right,” Lewis gave in, leaping out of his chair. Gideon wasn’t surprised to see him desperately trying to make an escape now. “Marriage is nothing we men need to think about so soon. Let’s just enjoy ourselves, yes?”
“Oh, I intend to,” Gideon said, thinking forward to his evening with the Comtesse.
Lewis was already pulling the door open. “Then I shall be seeing you later this evening.”
Gideon grinned at Lewis’ quickly retreating frame, letting out a small chuckle. One day, he would press his friend a little more to tell him about the belle he was hiding. But for now, there were other more important things he had to focus on.
Tonight, it was the ball… and an invigorating night with Mademoiselle Dubois.
Tomorrow, it would be exacting his final plan of revenge.
CHAPTER 3
Nothing would discourage Amelia tonight. She chanted those words over and over again, reassuring herself as best she could as the carriage pulled into the driveway of Castle Stanhope. But for some reason, when she laid eyes on the towering manor, she lost some of her nerve.
Barbara and Nadine squealed and chatted to each other as if she did not exist, practically thrumming with excitement – while Amelia battled with the fierce determination and the intense uncertainty warring within her. It wasn’t lost on her that her last ditch attempt at finding a husband was being made at the grandest ball of the year.
That too at the end of the Season.
She did not want to come off as desperate to any gentleman she might meet tonight, but she also had no idea how best to express her interest in them—enough to not only come away with a courtship, but a chance at marriage.
The moment they were out of the carriage, Nadine and Barbara linked arms and walked away, leaving Amelia to follow behind. Her arms were stiff by her side, heart pounding loudly in her chest as she followed the other arriving guests and the escorting footmen into the manor. She couldn’t help admiring the other ladies in attendance—and feeling drab and out of place with her out-of-fashion dark green dress.
I shouldn’t let that bother me, she reminded herself, steeling her resolve.This is all for Dorothy.
Her small encouragement served to push aside some of her nervousness, but it came rushing back like a tidal wave the moment they arrived at the entrance of the grand hall.
All too soon, the magnificent double doors swung open. To their credit, Nadine and Barbara maintained their composure as the footman announced them to the sea of guests already filling the massive, glistening ballroom. Amelia hardly heard her own introduction as she stepped inside, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people.
The ballroom they stepped into was the epitome of opulence, an elaborate spectacle designed to take anyone's breath away. Ornate crystal chandeliers hung like stars from a sky-painted ceiling, casting their shimmering light onto the polished, ebony parquet floor. Stately Corinthian columns, carved from pure Italian marble, lined the room, supporting a delicate balcony, from which clusters of nobles surveyed the scene below.
All of London must be here, she thought in awe.
Even as she did, she dismissed it. She knew very well that the Duke of Stanhope did not invite just anyone to his balls. Which made her all the more excited that she’d gotten to attend. Apparently, her uncle and the late Duke of Stanhope had been business partners, which was enough to secure them as guests at this evening’s ball.
Without a backward glance, Barbara whisked Nadine away to speak with a few of the other ladies. Amelia stared after them, knowing better than to follow. They didn’t want to be near her. Which she supposed was fine because she didn’t want to be near them either.
But it left her alone to navigate this spacious and crowded ballroom all by herself.
Thankfully, the dancing was yet to start. If she could get a few names on her dance card, she might be able to get off on the right foot.
For Dorothy, she reminded herself, dispelling the trepidation that clung to her like sweat. It worked, a little.
For now, she needed something in her hand, to make her seem a little less out-of-place and a little more comfortable. She made a beeline for the refreshments table and then reached for the ladle to pour herself a glass of orgeat lemonade, but another hand got there first.
“Oh, forgive me,” she said quickly. “Go ahead.”
“No, please, allow me to pour one for you first, my lady,” came a deep voice. Amelia’s heart skipped a beat when she realized that a tall gentleman stood next to her. She could hardly dare herself to glance at his face, but he had dark brown hair done Brutus-style and wore dark clothes that fit his strapping physique quite well.
“Thank you,” she murmured shyly. Now was her chance, she thought. But what should she say next? Amelia had very little experience with gentlemen and hadn’t the faintest clue on how to entertain a conversation with one.
“Shall I take a guess at who you are, my lady?” the gentleman asked, to her utter relief.
