“To the contrary, my lord.” Lydia gave him her brightest smile. “I am thoroughly enjoying myself.”
“Good, good,” he said, with little enthusiasm. “Perhaps we might take to the dance floor a little later, then.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, as they approached Lord Eskdale, who regarded her with a smile that faded when his gaze shifted to Walston.
“She’s lovely, Eskdale,” Walston said, inclining his head. “Be happy to claim another turn around the floor later.”
Lord Eskdale merely nodded and waited till Walston left before addressing Lydia. “It’s a little early, Miss Page, but if you have no objection, we must leave. Lady Eskdale is a little overcome by the stale air and various perfumes.”
“I have no objection at all, my lord,” Lydia replied. “In fact, I am somewhat relieved, since I am a little affected myself. I’m not sure what Lord Walston bathed in this evening, but it brought tears to my eyes.”
Lord Eskdale laughed. “Please tell Lady Eskdale that, Miss Page. She is currently feeling guilty for spoiling your evening”
“My evening hasnotbeen spoiled, my lord,” Lydia said, with a shake of her head. “My evening has been wonderful! I’m very grateful to you both.”
A short while later, having thanked Lord and Lady Trevelyan and eased Lady Eskdale’s worries with her own tale of wateringeyes, Lydia took her seat in Lord Eskdale’s carriage and allowed her mind to relive the evening.
Her favorite dance partner, she decided, had been her first one. The younger son of the Earl of Rushen, Mr. Darrell was a quietly spoken, red-haired gentleman with smiling green eyes. He had an amiable disposition and seemed genuinely interested in her. Indeed, he’d sought her out later in the evening for a second dance. All her dance partners, upon reflection, had been pleasant, though she suspected that most of them were merely curious about her. Only Lord Walston’s behavior had been questionable, with his gaze going where it shouldn’t. Lydia cringed at the memory of it.
Of course, none of her dance partners had been aware of the game being played. They had no idea that somewhere in the crowd, a stranger had been watching Lydia’s every move. Judging. Deciding. It was impossible for her to ignore his presence. More than once she’d cast a surreptitious glance around the ballroom, wondering if she might spot a likely face in the crowd. A futile exercise.
“May we know the reason for that smile, Miss Page?” Lord Eskdale asked. “Please feel free to deny us.”
“I was just looking back over the evening, my lord.” Lydia was glad of the shadows as a faint blush warmed her cheeks. “It has been very pleasant.”
“We’re glad you enjoyed it,” Lord Eskdale replied.
“You certainly attracted a lot of attention, my dear,” Lady Eskdale remarked. “Mr. Darrell seemed quite interested in you.”
“Yes, he danced with me twice.”
“As did Walston, unfortunately,” Lord Eskdale muttered.
“I found Mr. Darrell to be most pleasant,” Lydia replied. “And Lord Walston was not exactly unpleasant, but perhaps a little overbearing.”
Lord Eskdale snorted. “Which is a polite way of saying he’s a pain in the—”
“Walston is known to be somewhat imperious with the ladies,” Lady Eskdale said, her mouth twitching as she glanced at her husband. “Perhaps he will be absent from the event next Tuesday.”
“Well, I shall do nothing to encourage him should he be present,” Lydia said. “Goodness, I still can’t quite grasp all that is taking place. I am very grateful to you both.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Lord Eskdale replied. “And I have a feeling everything will work out as planned.”
“I hope so,” Lydia said, stifling a yawn as she settled back in her seat.Next Tuesday. Five days hence. Then after that, only two days till the third and final event.
Chapter Ten
The second party,hosted by Lady Bowness at her Westminster home, had been more or less a facsimile of the first. With the fortunate exception of Miss Grissom and maybe two or three others, the ballroom was filled with the same people, the orchestra played the same music, and the supper table offered the same food. Ambrose’s opinion of Miss Page, therefore, remained more or less the same. She was pretty, knew how to dance, appeared to be gracious, and smiled often, attributes that could easily be applied to any number of young ladies seeking courtship. By eleven o’clock that night, Ambrose had decided he’d had enough of feigning gout and watching Miss Page from afar. There was nothing more to see, after all. Disillusioned, he excused himself to Lady Bowness and left the party early, telling himself he was wasting his time. The fact that Miss Page had again danced twice with the weaselly Lord Walston, and spent a solid half hour chatting with the dull Mr. Darrell, had not influenced Ambrose’s decision or fueled his grumpy mood at all. At least, that’s what he told himself as he’d tossed and turned in his bed for the rest of the night.
Now, two days later, Ambrose found himself facing the third and final night. The one that demanded he make a decision.And he told himself he was not quite ready to do so. From Lord and Lady Redmayne’s glittering ballroom, he’d made his way downstairs and now occupied a shadowed corner of the main terrace. The night air cooled his brow and eased his mood. He needed to clear his mind, which seemed to have developed an unwelcome attraction to a rather lovely young woman he knew so little about, who just happened to have hair like spun gold. Tonight, as on both previous occasions, the young lady’s presence had garnered a good deal of interest, most of it innocuous, some of it undoubtedly driven by the scent of her inheritance, Walston’s being one of the latter. All of them had looked into Miss Page’s eyes, heard her voice, inhaled her scent, and felt her gloved hand in theirs. Ambrose shrugged off a touch of envy, but wondered how he would feel if given the same opportunity. As for Miss Page, she’d been predictably gracious, but hadn’t shown a particular interest in anyone apart from dull Mr. Darrell. Her smiles, when in Darrell’s presence, seemed to be a little bit brighter.
Ambrose gazed up at the stars and dared to give his thoughts free rein.You’ll be bored to tears with him, Miss Page. You need someone who can put a fire in your heart. Kiss you senseless. Show you pleasures you could never imagine.His traitorous body stirred.There. No further proof needed. I’ve obviously lost my bloody mind.
At that moment, a familiar figure stepped onto the terrace and glanced about. “Pendlewood, there you are.”
“Eskdale.”
“What are you doing out here?”
