She felt the same way but couldn’t help protesting. “Don’t you wish to get to know some young lady better? Isn’t that the point?”
He shrugged. “Right now, I’m content to dance and dine with you unless you prefer another dinner companion.”
Absolutely, she did not. “I cannot believe we are to dine on roast beef instead of dry crackers!”
He laughed but didn’t miss a step.
***
GREER HAD INTENTIONALLYput his name on Beatrice’s card directly before the intermission. Even if they couldn’t have a friendship outside of the ballroom, he could enjoy her company in the relative haven of a dining room over pottage and oysters.
Why not at least appreciate that?After all, he would have a lifetime of dining with whichever lady became Mrs. Carson, but she would probably not allow him to continue his association with Miss Rare-Foure.
Besides, Beatrice was easily the most desirable female in the place, and as they descended the great staircase to the downstairs dining room and the reception room, which had also been laid out for dining, he felt like the luckiest man at Clarendon House.
“There isn’t another gown in the stunning copper color of yours.”
She glanced up at him, her cheeks growing rosy and the blue of her eyes deepening. “I do believe it suits me.”
She sounded so modest, he didn’t think she had any idea of her beauty. Even if she were draped in a Rare Confectionery white bag, she would be fairer than any other woman at the ball. That evening, he’d found it hard to consider any of his partners as a potential wife when they all paled next to his vanilla-scented toffee-maker.
“I’m famished,” she said suddenly, as the aromas of the supper awaiting them drifted up the staircase.
“I thought your sister — the duchess, I mean, not Miss Charlotte — said you had to eat ahead of time and then hardly eat at a ball in order to seem ladylike. Or was it birdlike?”
“Same thing, I believe,” she quipped. “However, my understanding was I shouldn’t eat too heavily so as not to feel ill for the remainder of the dancing.”
“That, too,” he agreed.
She shrugged delightfully. “Perhaps ifyouwere not my dining companion, Mr. Carson, I would make an effort to seem like a bird, happy with the slightest morsel off my plate. However, since it is you, I shall eat the roast when they offer it, as well as Yorkshire pudding if we are so lucky.”
“I take it you won’t play the lady for me.” He found that immensely gratifying. The last thing he wanted was a false veneer between them.
She turned and looked up at him, not missing a step as he guided her into the dining room and found them two seats. The thoughts behind her eyes were a mystery.
Yet when he drew out a chair for her, she said, “Naturally, I won’t pretend anything around you. You already know I’m no lady.”
A couple passing behind her heard the words and exchanged a glance. A part of Greer wanted to laugh. The woman was dripping in jewels and obviously scandalized that possible riff-raff were among her kind. Another part of him wanted to punch the gentleman for daring to look over Beatrice’s shoulder and down her décolletage.
Not realizing how her mildest words could cause a scandal, she craned her head around. “I wonder where Charlotte has got to. I hope she is with someone nice.”
“We could ask her to warn us with her charming whistle if she is ever in distress.”
“Good Lord, no! She must never be encouraged with that awful habit. It would ruin her.”
Glancing at him, she realized he was speaking in jest.
“I wish I could pinch your shoulder,” she said, “for teasing me.”
I wish I could kiss you, he thought, and took time arranging his gloves in his lap so he didn’t have to look at her lovely face and fall further under her spell.
***
BY THE BALL’S END ATtwo in the morning, Greer recalled three high points, dancing with Beatrice, dining with her, and dancing with Lady Emily St. George, whom he’d been pleased to find among the mostly unfamiliar faces when he’d first arrived. Their dance came in the middle of the second set, and she seemed happy to see him, too.
She was graceful on the dance floor, murmured her responses, asked him a few polite questions, and didn’t make him feel as if she were trying to find out how much was in his bank account. Also, she smelled nice. Not in the same way as Beatrice — more floral — but he liked it.
He knew they could continue like this all Season, having very little chance to get to know one another better unless he made a bold move.
