If he indeed wanted to make a match with their family, Margaret knew she wasn’t the right young woman for him. It ought tobe her sister, she was certain. Perhaps she could guide them toward each other. A sad smile tugged at her mouth, for Amelia was not the only one who could be a matchmaker.
Her own options were gone. Regardless of what anyone thought, Lord Lisford had all but ruined her when he’d ended their betrothal. Even though she’d done nothing wrong, everyone wondered why she hadn’t been good enough for him to wed. Something was the matter with her, and no amount of good manners or deportment would change it. There were no gentlemen here who wanted her. Not really. Most of them wanted young, wealthy heiresses with no opinions of their own.
She knew, well enough, that this marriage proposal might be her last. A bitterness clenched her inside, for this was not the way it was meant to be. She’d obeyed the rules of the ton, learning everything a lady ought to know. And it was worth nothing at all.
Amelia was standing across the room, holding a glass of lemonade, while Lord Lisford was gazing at her with longing. Thankfully, her sister had come to her senses and had recognized that the man was nothing more than a rake and a wastrel. Even so, it appeared that the viscount hadn’t given up. Amelia remained polite, but it was clear that her sister had little desire to speak with the man.
Margaret was interrupted from her musings when Lord Castledon appeared. He invited her to dance, but it was clear that he, too, had caught sight of Amelia and the viscount. “Someone needs to remind Lord Lisford that there are other women here who would suit him better.”
“Rich women who want an ornamental husband, you mean.”
Lord Castledon sent her a sardonic smile. “Rich, feather-brained women with deep pockets.”
Margaret decided that she liked the earl a great deal. Not as a husband, but more like a brother. “Just so.”
She held his gloved hand while turning, and found that she was enjoying herself in the dancing set. Were it not for her sister’s interest, she might have said yes to the earl’s proposal. He was a good man and a kind one. They could get on well enough.
But when she thought of kissing him, her mind turned back to Cain Sinclair. Reckless and wild, the Highlander was a man she could never be with. But his kiss made her blood rise, and he made her feel alive in a way she’d never felt with any other man. He was her stolen secret, a forbidden attraction that she could never indulge.
Thankfully, the earl hadn’t pressed her for an answer to his suit. He’d offered for her and had her parents’ approval. All that remained was her response.
They danced the remainder of the set, and Margaret was nearly out of breath at the end. She glanced back to where Amelia had been standing, but there was no sign of her sister. Likely she had gone to speak with other friends. But as she turned slowly to study the ballroom, she couldn’t see Amelia anywhere.
A dark thread of worry pulled tightly within her. “Lord Castledon, would you mind helping me search for my sister? I don’t trust the viscount, and I don’t see either of them. I would feel better, knowing where she is.”
The earl’s face transformed into seriousness, understanding her concern. “You search the ballroom while I go outside.”
“If he’s dared to lay a hand on her—” Margaret began.
“He won’thavea hand when I’ve finished with him.” The earl crossed the room, and she had no doubt at all that if Amelia were in any danger at all, Lord Castledon would protect her.
In the meantime, she had to search the rest of the ballroom.It’s likely nothing at all, she told herself. Amelia could be in the ladies’ retiring room.
But after searching there and speaking with several other women, it became clear that no one had seen Amelia in several minutes.
When the minutes turned into half an hour, her sense of panic heightened. A few years ago, her older sister Victoria had been kidnapped. The viscount wouldn’t do the same thing, would he?
If Amelia had gone home, she would have said something to them. Margaret didn’t want to cause her mother unnecessary alarm if it turned out to be nothing. But when Lord Castledon returned, his expression was grim.
“She’s gone, and so is Lisford.”
Dear God, no. Not him. Margaret’s stomach sank, for she was afraid of what might have happened. “She never would have gone with him willingly.”
“Someone thought she wasn’t feeling well. Supposedly, Lisford was escorting her back to your mother.”
“Does anyone know where she might be?” Margaret demanded.
“I don’t know, but rest assured, I’ll find her.”
Margaret leaned against the wall, dreading the prospect of telling Mother. The earl was already striding across the room, and she felt slightly better that he was there to help. Even so, she thought of another man whom she could rely on to track down her sister: Cain Sinclair.
Time was of the essence. No longer did she care about propriety or what other people would think. This was about protecting Amelia.
She stopped briefly near her mother. “I can’t find Amelia. I’m going home to see if she’s there. I think someone said she had a headache.” The lie flowed easily, and though Beatrice appeared concerned, her mother gave no protest. “I’ll give our apologies to our hostess and join you.”
No, that wouldn’t do at all. She needed time to speak with Mr. Sinclair.
“It’s all right,” Margaret assured her mother. “She should have told us where she was going, but I imagine she’s fine. I’ll look after her.”
