"I don’t think I could love him, Constance, and I don’t want to marry him. Not for one kiss – one terrible kiss at that. You’ll help me, won’t you? Talk to Father if you must, persuade him that this would be a folly?"
"I can try – although I don’t know what good it will do. But you must be more circumspect in future. You cannot go around kissing every man to see whether he would be a good fit."
Charity folded her arms and stuck out her bottom lip, looking more like a petulant child than she had in years.
"I don’t see why. It’s only a kiss – it’s hardly dangerous. And why shouldn’t a woman know whether she is compatible with a man before agreeing to marry him?"
Constance sighed. "Because it’s not the way things are done, Charity. You will find yourself getting a reputation, andunable to make a good match. You do not want that, I assure you."
She believed the words she said – and yet… She could not help but think of what it would be like to kiss Ezra, and whether they would be compatible. She knew so little of such matters, and yet she rather thought that he was capable of making her feel all the things that were missing for Charity and Lord Cinder.
Chapter Nineteen
Butterflies filled her stomach on the coach journey into Amblewood. The Assembly Rooms were popular, and they had to wait for some time to reach the front of the queue and alight from their carriage.
She was fairly confident that Ezra would be there. After all, he had said he would be, and he did not seem like a man who broke his word. And she was fairly sure he would ask her to dance. She couldn’t wait. She was resolved to ignore any cruel comments from ladies of the ton who believed she wasn’t good enough – because if Ezra chose to dance with her, then he must think she was good enough. And that was enough for her.
"It looks busy," Charity said as they climbed the steps.
"You needn’t sound so surprised," Grandmamma said. "We aren’t devoid of society up here, you know. There are plenty of people who do not love London. Why, both of you this Season, so it seems."
She flashed Constance a smile, and Constance wondered whether her grandmother also doubted the story of Charity simply wishing to see her sister.
There were already a large number of people in attendance, and it was warm and stuffy as they removed their cloaks and stepped into the chandelier-lit ballroom.
"Can you see him?" Charity whispered.
"Not yet," Constance whispered back, not even pretending that she wasn’t looking for him.
Because she was. Her sister knew her too well, and she was finally able to admit it to herself: she wanted something more between her and Ezra. He was the one – the first and only man she had ever seriously considered marrying. She wanted him to ask her, and she just hoped he felt the same. She pushed away her doubts and disbelief that he could possibly like her, and let hope fill her heart.
"Come on, girls, let’s not block the doorway. There are plenty of eligible young men for you to dance with," Grandmamma said, ushering them towards a row of seats, since she could not stand for very long.
And then she felt the air in the room change, and when she turned, she found herself unsurprised to see Lord Gracewood walking into the ballroom.
???
Ezra was excited as he got dressed for the ball – an emotion he was not used to feeling, especially in such a situation. But he knew he would see Constance, and that was something he found he always wanted.
But what he needed to do, he knew, was to take the next step. He was attracted to her. He wanted her, in fact…he rather thought he was falling in love with her. And so the logical next step was to ask for her hand.
And yet he was so scared of being married again – of losing again – of putting her in such a situation. He could hardly say, "Will you marry me, but let’s never have children, just in case you don’t survive," could he? And it wasn’t what he wanted…and yet fear kept taking hold, stopping him from declaring himself.
Because right now, when nothing had happened, he could still walk away. He could put this down as an enjoyable interlude, accept that he was too scared, too damaged, to take things any further.
But tonight he was excited to see her. And he could not bear the thought of her going back to London and him never seeing her again. So it seemed his mind was made up – he just needed to master his fear for long enough to ask her.
His mother wouldn’t approve, of course, he thought to himself as he sat opposite her in the carriage on the way to Amblewood. But it wasn’t her decision whom he married, and he rather thought that her concerns were not very important.
So perhaps Constance would not be the expected figure to become the countess – not a classic beauty, perhaps, although beautiful still. And not as confident or outgoing as his mother, or perhaps even as Laura, who’d had a quiet confidence.
But then, he had not been a very suitable earl for the past five years, had he? Locked away in his castle, not interacting, keeping everything running but without getting involved any more than he had to. So what did it matter if his countess wasn’t what everyone expected her to be? He was confident she would be an excellent countess – interested in the welfare of the people who relied upon the estates, and so fond of castles that she was bound to keep the place in good shape for the next generation.
As they arrived at the Assembly Rooms, he found he could picture her perfectly as his countess. And in that picture, they were both very happy.
He just needed to ask her.
"Now, you must dance with more than just the one young lady, Ezra," his mother admonished as they entered the ballroom. "Otherwise, people will talk."
