The girls needed a governess, and not just any governess.
He spun his partner and sauntered to the opposite end of the line almost without thinking. He’d probably performed this dance one hundred times.
Before Estelle had taken ill.
One tended to enthusiasm for any sort of celebration after watching a loved one die. He spun his neighbor’s partner and then took Lady Elaine’s gloved hand once again. The top of her head didn’t quite meet his shoulders and her fingers felt thin and fragile in his hand.
The last lady, of whom he’d taken her hand, had not felt fragile at all. And when she’d stood, she’d not had to tilt her head back far to meet his eyes. Miss Fortune.
He wished he’d remembered everything earlier. He’d have liked to ask her…
What? What would he ask her?
Now he was reaching up and leaning forward as other couples ducked under the long bridge of arms.
She had not married. She’d remained Miss Fortune. Nor had she had any child. Presumably.
What did she do with her time? Did she live in that small hamlet of a village? Perhaps she was a school teacher. She’d handled the girls with considerable ease. He suppressed a grin. She’d handled him firmly as well.
A spinster.
Or perhaps she had a paramour tucked away somewhere. Perhaps he’d not remembered her face, or her name immediately, but he’d always remembered the occasion of meeting her. As sad as the thought was, no other lady had ever affected him the same. Not his wife, and none of the ladies before her.
He and Miss Fortune, that night.
He’d not gone to Vauxhall looking for anything, or anyone. He’d simply found himself at loose ends when Lord Pike had mentioned the outing. Sitting in the tent, she’d not struck him as a beauty, by any means.
But she’d struck him, nonetheless.
And when he’d taken her walking, he’d found himself curious to know everything about her and then aching to take her his arms.
None of it had been based on logic or reason. It has simply been… attraction. The same as lightening to a tree––or to water. Had that been a once in a lifetime phenomenon? Would it be the same, if he were to touch her again?
He shook his head, admonishing himself. He’d most likely never even lay eyes on her again.
He turned one last time and faced his partner as the music finally came to a halt. As Lady Elaine stared up at him with stars in her eyes, he knew one thing for certain. No magic existed with this chit. If he were truly going to look for a wife, perhaps he’d best look amongst the adult ladies.
Bubbles of laughter rose up from a pair of women standing along the wall.
Familiar laughter.
Well, I’ll be damned.
[Orienting sentence]
“You didn’t mention you were travelling to London.”
Tilde straightened her back and then slowly turned around. Jasper.
“I didn’t think you would be interested, my lord.” As she spoke, Tilde could feel Betsy’s curiosity as her sister glanced back and forth between her and Lord Willoughby.
When she’d left him last, he’d been overheated, irritated and worried about his two offspring. Tonight, he appeared cool and formal, dressed in almost all black, but for lace at his sleeves and neck, both a pristine white.
His black eyes flared with awareness.
He’d remembered
Taking her hand in his, he bowed low as he chuckled. “Have you promised the next set to another already?”
