Watching him stroll away, she hoped her brother found an amusing young lady to dance with.As he’d reminded her, soon he would be with his regiment again and in the path of danger.While allowing herself to be drawn into a discussion of Prussian lace, her gaze sought the man who had proclaimed her to be provincial at first glance.
Inwardly, she winced.The worst part —the truly galling part— was that he hadn’t been entirely wrong.
She was comfortable enough in a ballroom in a satin gown, but preferred riding through the familiar landscape of home on the outskirts of Eutin.Lise knew she was odd in thinking the soil of Holstein superior to the cobblestones of such a famed city as London.Odder still that she would rather be digging in her mother’s garden than dancing on the highly waxed planks currently beneath her feet.
However, given the choice between this stuffy assembly and a morning walk through the Dodau Forest, she would choose the latter without hesitation.
Nevertheless, that didn’t givehimthe right to dismiss her.
“Miss von Ostenfeld?”The voice of Lady Ashworth penetrated her thoughts.“You seem distracted, my dear.What you need is a dashing dance partner, and I’m sure we can find you one.”
“Forgive me, your ladyship.I was thinking about my home.”
“Ah yes,” Colonel Ashworth’s wife smiled kindly.“You must find yourself longing for the quieter forests of northern Europe after several weeks in London.”
“I confess I do, my lady.”
“Perfectly understandable.My own girlhood home was in Hampshire, and I still long for the chalk hills and the rolling downs when the London Season grows oppressive.”She lowered her voice conspiratorially.“Between us, I find three balls in one week rather excessive, but one must support the King's German Legion.Such brave men, so far from their homes.”
“King George’s and the Earl Spencer’s support of our soldiers honors us, Lady Ashworth.”As did her brother receiving the pay of a regular member of the British Army over the past two years.
“Nonsense,” her ladyship said.“I speak for all the people of Britain when I say it is we who are honored by the service of your brother and his fellow men-at-arms.”She hesitated, then nodded as if having devised a plan.“How wonderful would it be for you to marry one ofourcountry’s sons.Perhaps you’ve met an army officer who has caught your eye?Nothing wrong with an infantryman, either.”
Gracious!This conversation had gone quite in the wrong direction.“I am betrothed to a gentleman from Grünbek, in Holstein.”
“How splendid,” Lady Ashworth said without sincerity.“Although I’m sure you could do better here among some of England’s finest.”
Lise was astonished by the woman’s condescending words, since her ladyship knew nothing of her intended.England’s finest!Her thoughts wandered again to Lord Bowen.Had she caused him such embarrassment he would avoid her for the remainder of her stay in London?
She told herself firmly that she did not care either way.
The music shifted to a “wicked waltz,” in honor of the KGL, who’d brought it with them to England a few years back.When the Prince of Wales danced a waltz with the Princess de Geribtzoff at his Brighton residence two years earlier, it had gained instant popularity, althoughnotuniversal acceptance.At least, not in the finer private ballrooms.But tonight, apparently, it was permitted.
Her toe started to tap, and Lise watched couples take the floor with a familiar longing.Suddenly, Lord Bowen was in front of her, asking for the honor of a dance.Stunned and speechless, she could do no more than gape.
“I hope you won’t hold my prior remarks against me, Miss von Ostenfeld.It would be a pity to yield the floor to the other guests during such an exciting dance.”Then he turned to Lady Ashworth.
“Good evening, my lady.I just left your husband in the library.I hope he will forsake the dusty maps and invite his exquisite wife to dance, or I shall steal you away for the next one.”
Lady Ashworth blushed accordingly, and then Lise found herself walking with Lord Bowen toward the dance floor.Why, he hadn’t even waited for her to accept or deny him the “honor” before leading her into the fray.
In the next instant, his right hand was cupping her waist, while she rested her left hand on his shoulder.Then he clasped her free hand in his, and whirled her into the midst.
She’d danced the waltz before, a few times at balls in Eutin and once at a small party in her future in-laws’ home.But it had never felt like this.Her heart was thumping in her chest as his lordship effortlessly turned her, not too fast, along the length of the ballroom.He was holding her a little more tightly than any man had held her while dancing, or at any other time, for that matter.
Her betrothed, Friedrich, had kept more distance when they’d danced.
Now, she was feeling Lord Bowen’s thighs brush against hers and his hips occasionally make contact, and his arms and hands were firmly upon her.Sweet mercy!It was most stimulating, as was his fragrance, a heady blend of sandalwood and perhaps bergamot.
Her cheeks felt hot and her blood seemed to be coursing wildly through her, making every part of her warm, heavy, and tingly.
If her father had been there, she would have been removed from the dance floor within seconds.
As it was, the waltz ended too soon.Lord Bowen smiled down at her as their feet stopped moving.He didn’t release her, though.He merely tucked her arm through his crooked elbow and escorted her from the area where the next dance would begin.
“You are a nimble and practiced dancer, Miss von Ostenfeld.”
Finally, she spoke.“Thank you, my lord.”
