Helena wished she had dampened down her shift more than she had dared.
Mrs. North abruptly cleared her throat.
Helena turned to see that a man approached them, his expression hopeful. He was not unattractive, but he was old in Helena’s view, perhaps of an age with her brother. His hair was of a chestnut hue and straight, his sideburns carefully tended, his jacket well-cut but not the first fashion. His smile was a little too broad, as if he sought to ingratiate himself to her. She braced herself for him to grovel at her feet and beg for the honor of a dance.
She would decline him for Mr. Melbourne’s hand with satisfaction.
“Mrs. North,” he said, bowing low to her companion. He kept his gaze fixed on that lady’s features, apparently oblivious to Helena. Was the man blind? No, he had to be trying to win Mrs. North’s favor, the better to speak with Helena. “What a delight it is to see you again.”
“Mr. Galveston.” Mrs. North inclined her head but did not confess to be charmed or delighted. Helena could see that Mr. Galveston was waiting hopefully for some such encouragement.
How strange. She would have expected an elderly widow like Mrs. North to be grateful for whatever masculine attention she could get.
“May I introduce my companion to you, Mr. Galveston? This is Miss Emerson.”
Helena smiled, prepared for Mr. Galveston’s admiration when he finally looked upon her. Instead, his gaze swept over her without a great deal of interest.
“Miss Emerson. Delighted, I am sure, to meet any acquaintance of Mrs. North.” And he turned back to Mrs. North, so enraptured that Helena might not have even been present.
Helena bristled at this.
“Miss Emerson is the niece of Lady Dalhousie,” Mrs. North supplied. “I have agreed to escort her to some social events as a favor to her aunt.”
“How generous of you, Mrs. North,” Mr. Galveston fairly crowed. “Your nature is unfailingly selfless.”
Why did they not simply marry and coo to each other in private?
The music began for the next dance with ideal timing and Helena glanced toward Mr. Melbourne to find him not half a dozen steps away. He smiled and she smiled in return, then Mrs. North cleared her throat with resolve.
Helena realized she had missed part of their conversation.
“Of course, Helena would be delighted to dance with you,” Mrs. North said, steel in her tone. “She is not customarily so distracted and I apologize. Doubtless she is simply eager to dance.”
Helena recognized a lost cause when she was presented with one. She smiled at Mr. Galveston and took his hand, letting him lead her to the dance floor. She saw Mr. Melbourne’s step falter but she cast him a smile of such encouragement that he could have no doubt of her desires. He smiled and watched her, his gaze so fixed upon her that she knew all would come aright between them this season.
Aunt Fanny need never know of his presence in town, then Mrs. North would not know to keep him from Helena’s side. She turned her smile upon Mr. Galveston when she met him again in the dance and his step faltered. She liked that he was now suitably dazzled by her and danced with enthusiasm.
It was almost the end of the dance when she spied her brother entering the ballroom. With him was a man so old and infirm that he was leaning upon a cane.
This could not be the Duke of Haynesdale!
But the ripple of excitement that passed through the ranks of debutantes and mothers revealed that he certainly was a man of consequence. The crowd that gathered around him with enthusiasm made Helena fear the worst, no less the way Nicholas and his companion laughed together. They were of an age, and the stranger had a limp. In addition, Mrs. North was visibly surprised by his presence, which meant he was the Duke of Haynesdale.
A veritable antiquity.
No amount of wealth could make him a palatable choice for Helena.
It would be Mr. Melbourne for her, if she could contrive it to be so.
And contrive it, she most certainly would.
Chapter 4
“Almack’s,” Haynesdale growled as they approached the door. “This is the last place on earth I wish to be.” Despite his objections, Haynesdale matched Nicholas’ pace, proof that his complaints were for appearances only.
“And yet you insisted that we pause here.” Nicholas could not imagine why that might be, although he greatly wished to visit this establishment. The prospect of another conversation with Eliza would have taken him to any fête, however dreary the guest list. The prospect of pleasing her had even been sufficient for him to decline a brandy with his friend. “Are you suddenly in pursuit of a debutante for a bride?”
Haynesdale scoffed. “I have no plan to wed and you know it well.”
