Portia wasnotin the ballroom. Neither was McLeith.
Or Claudia.
Sets were forming for the next dance, and the elder of the vicar’s two daughters had no partner, though she smiled brightly at her mother’s side as if being a wallflower was the happiest fate she could possibly imagine. Joseph went and bowed to the mother and asked if he might have the honor of leading her daughter out.
Claudia returned to the ballroom with Anne and Sydnam Butler while he was dancing and coaxing laughter as well as smiles from the vicar’s daughter. By the time he had returned the girl to her mother and made himself agreeable to them for a while, Susanna and Whitleaf, Gwen, and Lily and Neville were also part of Claudia’s group. And from the way they all turned to watch him as he approached, Joseph understood that Lauren must have found her voice after he left her earlier.
“Well, Joe,” Neville said, slapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Well, Nev.” Joseph inclined his head to Claudia, who curtsied slightly in return. “I can see the word is out.”
“Only among a few of us,” Gwen assured him. “Lauren and Kit do not want the earl and countess to be told yet. This is their evening and it must not be spoiled in any way.”
“I am not about to step up onto the orchestra dais,” Joseph said, “and make a public announcement.”
“This is a lovely ball,” Susanna said. “And the next set is to be a waltz.”
Whitleaf took her hand, set it on his sleeve, and patted it.
“We had better take our places, then,” he said.
No one moved—including the Whitleafs.
“Miss Martin.” Joseph bowed. “Would you do me the honor of waltzing with me?”
Despite the noise of conversation and laughter with which they were surrounded, it seemed to Joseph that every member of the group fell still and breathless, hanging upon the question and the answer that was yet to come.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you, Lord Attingsborough.”
Under other circumstances he might have laughed aloud. She spoke in her schoolmistress voice. He smiled instead and offered his arm. She set her hand on it. And the whole group moved. One of Kit’s cousins came to claim Gwen, and Whitleaf headed off for the dance floor with Susanna, Neville with Lily, and Sydnam Butler with his wife—they were going to waltz, apparently, despite his lack of one arm and one eye. Joseph and Claudia followed them.
He faced her while all the other dancers were gathering around them. Their eyes met and held.
“Are you upset?” he asked her.
Typically, she gave her answer some consideration before speaking.
“I am,” she said then. “I loved him dearly when I was a girl, and unexpectedly I have come to like him again in the last few weeks. I thought we might enjoy something of a lifelong friendship. Now I suppose it will not happen. He is not perfect, as I thought him to be when I was a girl. He has character flaws, including a certain moral weakness and an inability to stand his ground in the face of change or disappointment. But we all have weaknesses. It is the human condition. I am upset at him and evenforhim. He will not, I believe, be happy.”
She spoke gravely, her brow creased in thought.
“Areyouupset?” she asked.
“I behaved badly,” he said. “I ought to have told her about Lizzie before asking her to marry me. It ought to have been done privately. Instead I kept quiet and then humiliated her with a public announcement. And then I would not agree to her demands, which seemed quite reasonable to her—and probably would to most of polite society. She was without her parents or any of her family here and could not turn to them for advice or support or comfort. And so she has done something which is un-characteristically rash for her. Yes, I am upset. I have, perhaps, been the cause of her permanent ruin.”
It was a strange time and place for such a serious exchange. Color and perfumes and voices and laughter surrounded them, all the festive accoutrements of a grand celebration. And then the music began, and he set his arm about her waist, took her hand in his as her other came to rest on his shoulder, and swung her into the waltz.
For several minutes he had the peculiar sensation that he and Claudia were the focus of much attention. Almost everyone was dancing. When he glanced away from her, he could see Bewcastle dancing with the duchess and Hallmere with the marchioness. None of the four of them was looking his way. Neither were Lauren and Kit or the Rosthorns or Aidan Bedwyn and his wife. They were all, apparently, wrapped up in their enjoyment of one another and the waltz—as were the couples with whom he had recently been conversing.
And yet…
And yet he had the strange feeling that they were all very aware of him. Not just of him. And not just of Claudia. But of him and Claudia. As if they were not just wondering how he would react to the fact that his betrothed had eloped with another man or how Claudia would react to her friend absconding with another woman. As if they were all wondering what would now happen to the two of them—to Joseph and Claudia.
As if they allknew.
“I feel very self-conscious,” Claudia said. She was looking prim and rather tight-lipped.
“Because of the waltz?” he asked her.
