“Mm,” Beatrice agreed, as two more men came toward their table and filled up their cards.
While Charlotte was fizzing with excitement, hardly able to wait for the first dance, Beatrice was suddenly weary and wished the evening were over. She’d taken a look into the eyes of each man who’d signed her card. She’d taken their measure as best she could. None of them could hold a candle to Mr. Carson. And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
Perhaps it was simply knowing she couldn’t have him that made him head and shoulders above the rest. Or maybe it was that kiss! A thought struck her. She should kiss a few more men, as she’d advised Amity once, so she could make sure of the spectacular nature of one kiss over another.
With that in mind, she cheered up. A few notes on a French horn heralded the start of the dancing.
“Wish us luck, Mother,” Charlotte exclaimed, and the next instant, they were met by their partners and heading to the floor.
***
THE EVENING PROGRESSEDas he had imagined it would. Greer wished he hadn’t seen the hurt look in Beatrice’s eyes.Those gorgeous eyes!He had wanted to spare them both the temptation of being close to one another or, God forbid, the excitement of a waltz. So he’d walked away.
Each dance had become a distraction as he hunted to see where she was, whom she was with, and whether she appeared to be happy. To his satisfaction — and strangely, to his disappointment — she seemed perfectly content, whirling around the old oak floor.
For his part, the women were a little more eager to ask about his background than at the Duke of Pelham’s exclusive ball. He realized most were hunting for a fortune if they couldn’t catch a lord, and he hadn’t come across a single titled lady all night. Nonetheless, what he’d said to Beatrice was correct, each event was good practice. He didn’t leave anyone hanging without a partner or commit any other terrible errors, as far as he could tell, and his dancing improved every time he stepped onto the dance floor.
However, he wouldn’t want to attend a ball like this again, one that turned out to be lacking the quarry he sought. Also, he had learned something the Duke of Pelham had told him and he’d previously dismissed — one should not sign up for every dance. It became tedious.
By the intermission at midnight, Greer was tired of smiling politely and making even the smallest of conversation during the brief time he and his partner walked to and fro across the oak floor, as well as the even shorter period at the table when he returned a female to her chaperone. Each discourse was similar, starting with where he came from when the young woman first heard his accent: What was his family’s business? Did he intend to stay in Britain? Did he have money to buy a home in London?
He considered himself a frank and open person, but the personal questions struck him as intrusive and mercenary. After he had something to eat, he might come up with a new group of answers to amuse himself. He was from Germany, a goat farmer, without a penny to his name.
“Mr. Carson,” came Miss Charlotte’s cheerful voice beside him.
He turned to find her alone, which left him momentarily disappointed as he tried to refrain from searching for her sister.
“How are you faring?” he asked her.
“Well, thank you. I’ve had some good dance partners.”
“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself. Have you eaten already? And are your mother and Miss Rare-Foure in here, too?”
“It’s not a very good banquet, I’m afraid. Just a few light nibbles. My family is over there.” She gestured over her shoulder, gave a shallow curtsey, and walked toward a table of beverages.
He looked over the way she had pointed, and neither of the other Rare-Foures appeared to have noticed him. Spinning about, he went to the other end of the table, where he grabbed a plate from a tall stack and snagged a few crackers and some cheese pieces to stave off hunger until he returned to his hotel later that night. The concierge was starting to consider him a permanent resident and allowed him to keep some food in his room. He had a few apples and some leftover pork pie, and he still had his bag of toffee.
With the promise of all that later, he took his meager snack and walked farther away from Beatrice and her mother. It wasn’t the desirable thing, but it was the right thing to do. He found another lone bachelor, and they discussed the news of the day and the price of coal, which Greer knew something about since his uncle’s trains were hungry beasts in that regard. They purposefully did not discuss any of the females around them, as that would be not only ungentlemanly but dangerous, in case either of them had already formed an attachment to one whom the other also wanted.
Greer was ready to get back to the ballroom, finish up, and head home. He would do so sooner if he hadn’t so enthusiastically written his name on dances right up until the last.
With eight to go after the intermission, he couldn’t help counting them down. When they reached the seventeenth dance with two to go, he realized none of this was fun anymore and had been amusingbecausehe’d been with Beatrice and Charlotte, or at least running into them every few dances.
After taking his sixteenth dance partner back to her table, he hid a yawn and turned to see his toffee-maker standing uncertainly not too far away. He was struck by her appearance. Her gown, a becoming shade of gray —or was it blue? —fit her perfectly, hugging her bosom, nipping in at her waist, before widening over gently curving hips. With her grace and stature, a little taller than the average woman, she looked majestic.
All at once, he felt proud he had purchased the garment for her, as well as jealous that sixteen men had enjoyed dancing with her while she wore it.
And then her seventeenth partner made an appearance, said something to her, pointed behind him, and took off.
What the devil?He knew he had to find his next partner, but Beatrice was standing looking ... alone. She was his friend. He crossed the few yards between them.
“What was that all about?” he asked without preamble.
“Were you spying on me, Mr. Carson?” she asked, humor flashing in her eyes.
“Of course. You are the loveliest lady here.” He frowned at himself. He’d meant to say something outrageous to tease her, but he’d ended up speaking the truth. Her smile faltered.
“My next partner has had an emergency. His sister fainted, and his mother demands they leave at once.”
