Once again, Eliza’s gaze drifted to the Duke of Elkington’s startlingly handsome face. This time, their gazes met, and something in the depths of his blue eyes made the hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. He gave a stiff bow, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Miss Wingfield.”
His cold, distant tone raised gooseflesh on Eliza’s arms, and she shivered as she returned his bow with an unsteady curtsey.
“Your Grace.”
Her voice was so soft that she wasn’t sure whether he could hear it as she straightened up and smoothed her skirts. Eliza trembled from head to foot as he spun on his heel and strode away with Lady Catherine in tow.
She felt as if she might cast up her accounts and turned to face Lord Edward, her face scrunched with a miserable frown.
“I know Lady Catherine claims that I have not done anything to offend her family, but I fear she is mistaken. I must have done something wrong. I only wish I knew what, so that I could apologise, at the very least.”
Lord Edward held out his arm to Eliza and offered her a kind smile.
“It might be best to leave them be for now, Miss Wingfield. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to the dance floor?”
Eliza nodded, giving him a small smile.
“I will be glad to. Though it is difficult to resist the urge to seek them out and ask what I have done to upset them.”
Lord Edward raised his eyebrows and shook his head at Eliza as he led her out to the dance floor, speaking in a gentle tone.
“Have you considered that they could simply be concerned about Lord Gabriel and his head injury, and that perhaps it is making them forget their manners somewhat this evening?”
The tightness in Eliza’s chest lessened a little and she offered Lord Edward a grateful smile.
“I must admit that had not occurred to me.”
The two of them faced each other on the dance floor and Lord Edward bowed.
“Do not be so quick to assume that the fault is always with you, Miss Wingfield, for I find it unlikely that a young lady as pleasant as yourself could possibly be at fault.”
The music began and the tense knot which had formed between Eliza’s shoulder blades eased as she danced with Lord Edward Melthorn. He was kind, pleasant, and easy to converse with, so she felt terribly guilty each time she caught herself looking past Lord Edward and searching the crowd for the Duke of Elkington instead, despite her best intentions otherwise.
CHAPTER6
Lord Edward Melthornknew he was being a cad, that it was wrong of him to use Miss Wingfield as a tool to allow him to be close to Lady Catherine Stewart in public, but he seemed powerless to stop himself. The two ladies seemed to be friends, and the opportunity to be close to Catherine without arousing either of their mothers’ suspicions was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Catherine had smelled like a rose garden, as she always did, and even now Edward’s head spun, and his heart raced from the heady scent. A chorus of angels couldn’t have sounded sweeter to Edward’s ears than his sweet Catherine’s honeyed voice. Thank heavens Miss Wingfield was so conscientious and had made sure to include Catherine in the conversation.
As the dance ended, Edward bowed and offered Miss Wingfield another charming smile.
“It has been an absolute delight meeting you, Miss Wingfield, and I hope that we will see each other again when we return to London next Season.”
Miss Wingfield curtsied, offering him a genuine smile which made Edward’s gut twist. Heavens, he hoped that she had feelings for someone else, for the Duke of Elkington as he rather suspected, because he did not wish to hurt such a kind and amiable young lady who was Catherine’s friend. But he would. Edward would do anything to be with his darling, forbidden Catherine, even if it meant shattering the hopes of a good and kind young lady like Miss Wingfield. But he did not want to do so if he could help it.
* * *
ELKINGTON HOUSE, LONDON
Lady Catherine Stewart lay face-down on her bed the following morning, crying in earnest. Last night had been, without a doubt, one of the worst nights of her life. Not only had she had to take a vicious tongue-lashing from her mother in the carriage on the way home from the Ball they’d attended the night before, for defying the Duchess and speaking to Miss Wingfield against her wishes, but then there was the business with Lord Edward Melthorn and Miss Wingfield. She genuinely liked Miss Wingfield. The girl was friendly, kind, funny, and the only girl Catherine had ever heard express any interest in Raphe’s wants and needs. If only their fool mother had not declared war on Miss Wingfield’s sister, then perhaps Catherine could have ensured that Raphe pursued Miss Wingfield, and she would not have had to worry about Edward — her Edward — potentially courting Miss Wingfield.
Catherine and Edward had met by happenstance at a Ball last Season. They had both snuck out to the orangery at Lady Chattingham’s townhouse, each in a desperate attempt to escape their respective overbearing, meddlesome mother. They’d bumped into each other, and Edward had given Catherine quite a fright. She hadn’t been expecting to find anyone else in the orangery.
He had scolded her, too, for being foolish enough to sneak into the orangery unchaperoned. He’d told her that such a beautiful young lady should never be found unaccompanied in a dark orangery at a society party.
“What if I’d been drunk or morally bankrupt? And who are you, anyway? I feel as if I cannot even scold you properly because I do not even know your name. Good heavens, we haven’t even been introduced. This is a scandal waiting to happen, to be sure.”
