The Duchess looked between them with an excited grin, just as Lady Constance’s eyes widened in a startled expression.
"I-I-"
"How lovely!" the Duchess exclaimed. "Nathaniel, I think we should dance too."
She did not give her husband a choice, taking his hand as he shrugged and gave Ezra awhat can be done about it?look – although Ezra did not think he looked particularly sad about the situation.
"Lady Constance?" he prompted.
"Very well," she murmured, taking his hand.
He was rather confused by her cold attitude. Without the beard, he thought he was passably handsome, and men were in short supply for dancing. He could not think how he had done anything to offend her in such a short space of time.
Once they were on the dance floor, the steps took over from conversation, and he was pleased to find he did remember what he was doing, even if he had not had any practice for a long time.
Lady Constance danced beautifully, with much grace in spite of her height – although she did not smile once.
"Do you not enjoy dancing?" Ezra asked when the music allowed him to.
"With the right partner," Constance replied.
So he supposed he ought to take it that he was the wrong partner.
"And what brings you to Northumberland? You’re not from these parts, are you?"
"My grandmother lives here, and I enjoy seeing the castles."
???
"And how long will you stay?"
Constance realised he had absolutely no idea who she was. She almost laughed to herself. How ridiculous, that she could recognise him with his facial appearance so changed, and yet – because she had been wearing an old dress and her hair had been messy – he had no clue who she was.
Nor how rude he had been. Since he was clearly capable of being polite, she could only surmise that his attitude that day had been because he had thought she was a pauper. That wasn’t really acceptable, in her mind. She had been trespassing, yes – but unintentionally. He could simply have shown her out, if he had been a real gentleman.
"A few weeks," she said, and she saw him frown. He was clearly not used to such brusque responses, but she could not find it in herself to be polite to a man who had spoken to her so badly before – and then had the gall not to recognise her, merely because she had let her maid spend longer on her appearance than usual. He was clearly a very shallow man.
"And then you’ll return to…London?" he asked.
She was tempted to respond with a curt no, but thought she ought to put in a little more effort than that. "The Season will be over," she said, "so we will all return to my father’s seat in Kent."
"That’s a nice part of the world," he said. As he spoke, he caught her toe, and she winced, stepping backwards.
"Please accept my apologies," he said quickly. "I am out of practice with dancing. I did not intend to—"
Even though her toe throbbed, she waved off his apology. "It is no problem," she said, holding her head high and refusing to show him that it hurt.
Had it been a dance with a man she had found interesting, she might have thought it a disaster. But since the man had been so rude to her before, she thought it was exactly what he deserved. He didn’t ask her to dance again, and she was not surprised.
But how could he be so rude to her when she had been dressed plainly, and then act like a charming prince when she was in her finery? She hated the snobbery that came with her class, and she was glad to return to her grandmother, who had been watching from the other side of the room.
"Who was that you were dancing with, dear?" her grandmother asked, her voice a little gravelly. "I didn’t recognise him."
"The Earl of Gracewood," Constance replied shortly.
"The earl from that castle that turned out not to be abandoned?" her grandmother asked.
"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.
