If he could have ducked out of this damn ball, he would have.
It was understood, however, as Lady Natalie’s fiancé, he was to partner her for the first dance and later, the supper dance. He was expected then to escort her into the supper area and attend her during the meal. To suddenly back out of his commitments at this late hour would be a slight to both the lady and her family. He hadn’t any choice and was thus compelled to attend.
Thoughts of Lilly, however, plagued him.
He could not help but compare the seventeen-year-old girl from his past, brash and open, loving him unreservedly, to the woman he’d visited the other morning.
With maturity, her beauty had taken on a gossamer quality. Sitting in her aunt’s home, she had seemed ethereal, fragile, brittle even, before falling off to sleep. Pursuing her was futile, and yet, he hungered to know the woman she had become.
Although clouds threatened, rain held off as the sleek carriages lined up outside of the Willoughby mansion. Men and women of all sizes and ages, dressed in their finest evening wear, materialized like butterflies emerging from their cocoons as coach after coach moved slowly past the grand entrance. The gentlemen ushered ladies inside regally as befitted the exalted members of theton. The Ravensdales, along with their guest, the Duke of Cortland, were no exception.
Drawing the eyes of many, the betrothed couple made a striking pair. Natalie, only about six inches shorter than Michael, stood tall and elegant with her golden hair drawn up in a jeweled tiara. While she wore a pale-yellow chiffon gown, Michael wore mostly black. Duncan had used a touch of pomade to slick his black hair back, and it had held so far. Their wedding, scheduled for May, promised to be the pinnacle of the season.
Two of the earl’s sons were present as well. Michael hadbeen pleasantly surprised to find them gentlemen modeled after their father. The other two sons, busy addressing concerns at a few of the earl’s northernmost properties, had been unable to come to London for the season. His future brothers-in-law were not a pack of dilettantes who spent their time whoring and drinking away their father’s fortune. So many sons of aristocrats failed to find worthy pursuits. It was a shame, really.
Lilly was nowhere to be seen in the reception line.
Had he expected to catch her watching him, once again, as he had all those years ago? The fleeting thought caused his heart to skip a beat.
It was good she was not here.
Without her as a distraction, he could concentrate on conversing with key political figures and cultivating new connections. Lady Natalie’s hand was tucked loosely into his arm as they mingled strategically, greeting old friends and meeting valuable new acquaintances. When the dancing commenced, he felt more himself as he led his betrothed onto the floor.
Natalie was graceful, calm, and poised. She was beautiful, and yet he wasn’t constantly tamping down amorous thoughts while holding her. Her father had raised her to be intelligent and perceptive. She would make an excellent duchess. He was happy to realize she wasn’t as enraptured with fashion as Lilly’s niece was, after all. He didn’t know how he would have coped with that. Following the first dance, he returned Lady Natalie to her mother’s side and relaxed with the youngest of Natalie’s older brothers, Joseph.
As a family with four marriageable sons, the Ravensdales’ popularity went unrivaled. This particular bachelor son, Joseph, seemed somewhat distracted. Before Michael could escape to the cardroom, Joseph leaned in and spoke conspiratorially.
“Say, Cortland, do you by chance have an acquaintance with any of the ladies standing near that fern. I must have an introduction to the brunette. I’ve never seen her before, and if I must dance with some of the debs tonight, I don’t find her objectionable…not objectionable at all.”
Michael laughed and turned in the direction Joseph indicated.
Oh, hell.
The brunette in question was none other than Miss Glenda Beauchamp. Although Glenda was rather stunning in an icy-blue confection of a dress, Michael’s eyes landed on the more diminutive woman beside her.
Wearing a plain navy dress with long sleeves and a high neck, Lilly appeared paler than usual. With her hair pulled back severely, she clutched the shawl wrapped around her shoulders as though it were a lifeline. She attempted, it seemed to Michael anyway, to appear staid and matronly. Had she but realized the truth—it was impossible to hide her beauty.
“I do,” Michael said thoughtfully. “Old friends of mine. Shall I present you?” They weaved their way across the room, and Michael confidently stepped into their circle.
Glenda welcomed him enthusiastically with sparkling eyes. She was a rather pretty girl—a child, really. Just so she didn’t wish to converse with him of fashion or embroidery.
“Your Grace, how wonderful to see you again! Isn’t this a beautiful ballroom? The candles and ribbons are so very festive!” She spoke to Michael, but her eyes stole several furtive glances at the younger gentleman beside him.
Michael bowed over her hand. “Miss Beauchamp, lovelier than ever. The ballroom needs no decorations when it is graced with ladies as ornamental as yourself. You are enjoying the festivities then?”
“Oh yes.” She again glanced toward Joseph Spencer.
“May I present my future brother-in-law, the youngest sonof the Earl of Ravensdale, Mr. Joseph Spencer? Spencer, this is Lady Eleanor Sheffield’s great niece, Miss Glenda Beauchamp, newly arrived from Plymouth.”
Michael watched them bow and curtsy to one another, both more than a little flustered. It didn’t take long, however, before she’d promised young Spencer the supper dance. Joseph was writing his name on Glenda’s dance card when Lilly caught Michael’s eye. Apparently, she’d been eavesdropping on the conversation. She sent him an indulgent smile. Was she remembering a similar introduction?
Michael addressed her directly and proceeded to present her to Joseph as well. Lilly curtsied and gave Glenda and the young rogue her permission to take a turn about the ballroom. “Do not,” she said, “go outside.”
Michael stifled a chuckle. “You are looking more yourself this evening, Lilly. I take it you are in good health again?”
“Lady Beauchamp,” she hissed.
“Pardon?” Michael asked.
