Of course, she couldn’t say any of that, but she could stick up for the future bride.
“I don’t think it would be chivalrous of you to take a lady for your wife unless you love her. She deserves that, don’t you think?”
Hearing her earnest tone, he stopped smiling. “I hope you know me well enough to believe I will not play with a lady’s affections, nor would I bind any female to a loveless marriage, both for her sake and my own. Every one of us deserves to find passionate love,” he added, his gaze locked with hers. “Moreover, I have already discovered one lady with whom I might find myself attached.”
The room seemed to shrink down to the two of them, while becoming devoid of air at the same time. For a ridiculous instant, she thought he might mean her.
“I’ve danced with her at two balls,” he added.
Disappointment crashed through her. After a moment, she managed to catch her breath and offer him a serviceable nod.The American had found someone!
In the background, she heard the light, airy sound of a flageolet letting them know the first dance was about to begin.
She swallowed, feeling warm. “I’m glad we’ve cleared that up then.”
For some reason, her utterance put the merriment back into his gaze. “The nicest part about this ball so far is I don’t have to rush off in search of partners. I’m free to ask you to dance. Right now, in fact.”
Beatrice let Mr. Carson take her hand even though she still felt stunned. As if they were in a formal situation, he bowed, and she returned it somewhat woodenly, and they took up their positions.
The musicians played a few notes, then stopped, giving the guests time to realize what type of dance it was, and if they didn’t, the Dowager Duchess of Eastley announced in a loud voice, “A quadrille to begin.” The elderly lady intended to enjoy her own ball and had a younger man at the ready.
Everyone with a partner approached the dance floor, and a floor manager made sure there were correct number of couples in each group. There was a brief pause, filled with the anticipation of the evening’s first dance, while hopeful dancers prayed not to make a single misstep. Last-minute partners were secured, until rectangles of four couples were arranged up and down the ballroom.
Beatrice exchanged a glance with Mr. Carson, and then they began. She couldn’t believe how far they’d come in a month and a half, but she felt confident in her steps and particularly comfortable as his partner. Recovering from the shock of his announcement, now that they were dancing, she began to relax. Moreover, to her delight, she saw Charlotte had her own handsome partner in the formation next to hers.
Beatrice wished she’d had time to ask Mr. Carson whether the lady he was interested in was in attendance. Since she hadn’t, she couldn’t help glancing around her, imagining which of the titled misses might have caught his eye.
And then, when she took a turn in the middle with Mr. Carson, another lady and her partner, her foot slipped out from under her.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed before she could stop herself, sounding as if she were reining in a horse while throwing her hand out to steady her step. Something had sent her right slipper askew. Glancing down while regaining her position, she noticed one of the dowager’s extraordinarily flaxen curls. With a swift swipe of her toe, Beatrice sent it flying as far as she could, watching it disappear between the feet of a couple in the outer ring.
Looking up, she caught Mr. Carson’s gaze. He’d seen the entire thing. What’s more, it had tickled his funny bone. Seeing him bite back a grin and fight to keep from laughing caused a bubble of mirth to rise in her unexpectedly. If she couldn’t get ahold of herself, she was going to laugh. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she focused on the dance.
Looking away from him, her cheeks bulging with good humor, Beatrice heard the American’s deep chuckle, and she was lost. A laugh escaped her like a dog’s bark, and then another. The other couple dancing with them in the middle faltered and stared.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Putting her hand up to her mouth, she bowed her head and coughed violently, as if she hadn’t laughed at all but simply had a dry throat. However, this didn’t help, as their steps were all off from the music and from the other dancers.
As their entire formation ground to a humiliating halt, Mr. Carson took her hand and escorted her from the floor, with the other unfortunate dancers in their group also having to end their dancing.
Back at their spot by the window where Charlotte could find them, she sat on one of the many chairs lining the wall and moaned. She wanted to put her hands over her red-cheeked face but didn’t dare make such a public display.
“Don’t worry, Miss Rare-Foure. I doubt anyone noticed.”
“Are you insane? I am utterly mortified. From that blasted book Charlotte is always on about, one rule plainly stated how one must never draw attention to an error, not even one’s own. Not only did I stumble across our hostess’s fallen locks, I laughed and ruined a dance for six other guests.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Mr. Carson said. “It was mine.”
“True,” she agreed peevishly.
This made him chuckle again, with no one able to hear over the sound of the music and the many dancers.
“I might as well go home. No one will partner with me for the rest of the evening.”
“Not true,” he assured her. “Most won’t know what happened, and only the formations near us even knew we broke ranks and left.”
“Hush,” she ordered. “You cannot make this better. Go find yourself a wife if you haven’t already and leave me in peace.”
“Come now, Miss Rare-Foure.”
