What is wrong with me? No man has ever made me feel as flustered just by merely standing opposite me. How I wish Betsy was here, so I could confide in her!
Betsy was, of course, not at the dance, given she was not of noble birth, no matter how much she felt like family.
“By Jove, Lord Thornmouth is taking his time arriving,” her father said, breaking into her thoughts. The irritation in his voice was evident. “Your Mother is here now, ready to open the ball with your sister.”
Indeed, Rowena’s mother was rushing across the ballroom with as much grace as possible, followed by Catherine who looked lovely in a dress made of fine silk. The pale rose color stood in contrast to her tucked-up blonde hair.
“Come on now, we are already late. It is near half past eleven,” Lady Hazelshire prompted and rushed past her husband and elder daughter, stopping only for a moment to tuck a stray hair behind Rowena’s ear. She glanced at her husband as she did so.
“Where is Lord Thornmouth? He was missing from the receiving line. Did we miss him?”
Lord Hazelshire shook his head. “He has not yet arrived.”
Lady Hazelshire clasped Rowena’s arm.
“This is a disaster. Rowena, walk the room, see if another lord will ask for the minuet. You cannot stand by the sidelines. Not for your sister’s first dance. It would look terrible.” Her fingers were digging into Rowena’s skin so much she flinched. She felt herself growing impatient with her mother. After all, it was not her fault Lord Thornmouth was not here.
Fortunately for her, her mother soon let go of her and proceeded to the dance floor, alongside Catherine to officially open the dance. Her mother stopped to speak to the conductor regarding the music while Catherine smoothed her dress. Rowena could almost feel her sister’s nerves.
“Mama is right. I should be dancing the minuet. However, I declined many requests in favor of Lord Thornmouth and now there is no time to find another. Perhaps I should take the air.”
Her father nodded. “It will be for the best. I shall step out the front door to see if the young man cannot be spotted somewhere. Perhaps he is lost.”
Rowena highly doubted that he was but did not argue. She could tell her father was upset enough as it was.
She let him proceed to the front door while she made her way across the ballroom toward the back, where another door led to the gardens behind the mansion.
“Are you not dancing the minuet, Lady Rowena?” A deep voice sounded out as she passed a group of guests. She stopped, recognizing the slight Northern accents. When she turned, she found herself at once hot and cold, for it was indeed Lord Westmond who stood before her, tall and regal looking in his fine tailcoat.
“I had promised it to a gentleman, but it appears he was delayed. I was going to take the air for a little while,” she said finding herself suddenly unable to look him directly in the eyes.
“A fool. An utterly fool I declare, for missing the opportunity to dance with a lady as fair as you.”
There was a grin on his face which made her feel at ease and she looked up at him. He was well over six feet and she had to look up to catch his eyes. They were an unusual grey color that reminded her of pebbles at the Brighton seaside. His hair, shoulder length and brown, was curly with rich sideburns by the side of his face. What she noticed above all was the earthy scent about him. A scent which reminded her of riding through the woods near her home after a rainstorm.
“I would not declare him a fool yet, there might be a legitimate reason for his tardiness. Now, the music is about to begin, and it is unseemly for the sister of the hostess to not participate in the first dance, no matter the reason.” She bowed her head, ready to excuse herself. As she was about to turn away, he took a step toward her, extending an arm.
“There is no reason for you to miss the first dance. Allow me to escort you, Lady Rowena.” It was not quite a question and yet not quite a command. His arm hung in the air between them, ready for her to take it to be escorted to the dance floor.
There was a determination in the way he stood and smiled at her. His face full of expectation.
She nodded and placed her arm on his, feeling the strength of him as they touched.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as they made their way to the dance floor and joined the line of other couples who were awaiting their sets.
“I cannot allow a beautiful young lady such as yourself to suffer such humiliation. And besides, I had rather hoped for another dance with you.”
She felt herself blush.
“You are too kind. First you rescue my necklace and now me. It is no wonder my Father appears so fond of you.”
He laughed out loud. “I imagine the reason why your Father is fond of me is that I know my way around a winery. In a business sense, of course.” He winked at her. “Although it does sound as though the vineyard is causing him quite the headache.”
“It is. He should never have bought it. I know little of such affairs, but I can see how worn down he is from all the travel. Really, I worry for his health. He is not a young man.” The young Duke squeezed her arm as they stood, waiting.
“I am glad I have made his acquaintance and I can help advise him. Do not fret, Lady Rowena, I will do all I can to assist.”
Up ahead, Catherine opened the ball and displayed the steps of the dance to those in line, waiting. Across the dance floor, she caught the eye of her father who smiled at Catherine with pride. He stood by himself, evidently the search for Lord Thornmouth had been unsuccessful.
