And yet, if they were going to wed, and it would be a love match on both sides, he thought, they surely ought to begin with honesty.
He watched as both Ladies Beaumont danced with Mr Chalmers, and then found that they were encircled by young men, interested in these beautiful women who were not the usual guests at these Northumberland events.
He downed his drink and hurried over, desperate to secure at least one dance with Constance. And yet somehow, it was Lady Charity who stood before him, smiling and fluttering her fan.
"Lady Charity has space on her dance card, Ezra," his mother prompted, and politeness dictated that he ask her:
"Would you do me the honour of the next dance?"
She smiled and agreed happily, and he was propelled onto the dance floor with her before he had a chance to ask the only woman he wanted to dance with. And by the look of the number of suitors surrounding her, she might not have a dance left by the time he had finished dancing with her sister.
???
Constance did not think that she could have felt more hurt if her sister had picked up a literal knife and stabbed it in her heart. She had been waiting for Ezra to ask her to dance, surprised by the number of other gentlemen who wished to do so, but keen to make sure that there were plenty of dances for Ezra if he chose to claim them. And then somehow he was dancing with her sister, and she could not help but watch them – the way his eyes lit up, and her sister’s pretty smile – as her dreams crumbled before her eyes.
Of course he would prefer her prettier sister. Why wouldn’t he? If it was the Beaumont dowry he was after, then Charity was the far better candidate. When it came to it, it was Charity he had asked to dance, not Constance. She had clearly been fooling herself to think there was something between them.
Chapter Twenty-One
Once again, Ezra had no idea why Constance was not engaging with him. She had claimed a headache when he’d finally been able to ask her to dance at the Assembly Rooms, and then, when he sent a note inquiring after her health, she never responded. He paced his study, wondering what mistake he had made this time. He had been planning to ask her to marry him – and now he did not know if he could. Was it because he had waited too long? Did she think he was not serious?
He racked his brains to think if he had done or said anything that could have offended her at the Assembly Rooms. But he had told her she was beautiful – which was true – and had come to ask her to dance, although he had ended up dancing with her sister first. That couldn’t have upset her, could it? He had only been trying to be polite. He didn’t want to dance with anyone but Constance, but politeness dictated that he should not monopolise her all evening.
He considered riding over to her grandmother’s house to see whether she was ill or whether his missive had not reached her. And he would do so, he decided, in a day or two. He must give her a chance to respond, he thought, rather than flying into a panic because she was taking her time.
???
"I don’t see why you are not responding to him," Charity said as they rode out together towards Somerton Castle, which Constance had been keen to visit. "He wrote to you days ago now, inquiring after your health. And I don’t understand why you did not dance with him the other night, either. You were so excited to see him – what happened?"
"I realised I had been a fool," Constance said, hoping the wind whipping past them as they rode would be enough to explain the tears that she knew were in her eyes.
"But how have you been a fool? You’re not making any sense. The man is clearly in love with you–"
"He is no such thing," Constance said with a sigh. "I had fooled myself into believing there could be something between us, but I was wrong. So no, I shan’t respond to him, because I don’t feel like seeing him right now."
Constance knew that Charity was having to push her horse harder and harder to keep up with her, but she was keen to end this conversation. She loved her sister dearly, and she did not want to hurt her feelings by telling her that it was Ezra’s clear preference for her that had made Constance finally see clearly.
"You’re not making any sense," Charity said, the words threatening to be lost on the wind. "Why do you insist on being unhappy? He may be a bit slow off the mark to propose, I grant you – but I believe he will. And I do know about these things."
"It’s you who knows about these things, and not me, I am aware," Constance snapped, tears rolling down her cheeks. "You are the one who all the men want, and I am your plain, boring sister. And just for once, I thought a gentleman was interested in me. A man that I actually liked – and I thought he might choose me. But no, as soon as you are there, you are the one who ispicked. So yes, you have more experience in this than I – so you should know what we’re dealing with."
Constance pulled the reins hard, her tears obscuring her view and making it unsafe for her to ride. Charity sailed past her, clearly unaware of her plan to stop, and then rounded on her, a determined look on her face.
"What utter nonsense you are talking, Constance Beaumont," her sister said, stopping when her horse was right before Constance’s. "You are not plain, and you are not boring. And above all else, Lord Gracewood does not prefer me to you."
"You don’t understand, Charity. Every time my beauty – or lack of it – comes into question, he fails. He saw me as plain and probably poor when I entered his home by mistake, and he screamed for me to get out without giving me a chance to speak. His mother doesn’t think I’m good enough to be a countess, and nor does the rest of the county. They say I’m too plain, too tall, too dull. And then, when presented with both of us to dance with, who does he choose?"
She shook her head in despair. "Do not try to persuade me otherwise, Charity. I do not blame you – you cannot help attracting all men. But I must accept the lot that God has given me and not allow my heart to be broken by hopes of another life."
"I am sorry that my dancing with the Earl upset you. Had I realised that, I would have refused, no matter how rude it was. But I must tell you that you are wrong. He asked me to dance out of politeness – nothing more. And when we danced, he spoke only of you. You can throw away this chance at happiness if you want, but do not blame me – and do not even blame him. For he is in love with you, Constance. You just need to believe it."
Her sister’s words rang in her ears as they looked around the abandoned castle and as they rode home, making awkward conversation occasionally, but generally riding in silence.
Could she be right? Constance wondered whether she had been a bit harsh in her judgement of the Earl. He would have had to ask her sister to dance, to be polite. If only he hadn’t done so first. And when he had shouted at her for being in his home, he had thought that she was a trespasser, she supposed. Even if she had been dressed finely, and had been as beautiful as Charity, perhaps he would still have told her to leave.
And the cruel words of the gossips, and the judgement of his mother… Well, none of that was Ezra’s doing, she supposed.
She asked for a tray in her room, claiming a headache, but in reality she just needed to think. Had she made a terrible mistake in shunning the man that she now realised she was in love with – and on three separate occasions? Once he might have been able to forgive; perhaps twice was quirky. But three times surely just made her seem dramatic, and before this trip, she would never have thought of herself as such.
