Kimptonstrolled up and took Lore by the hand and led her out on the dance floor. God. His day would be filled with all the apologies stacking up.
Welton and Shufflebottom, who were apparently attached at the hip, appeared at Harlowe’s side.
“Hey, Harlowe. Missed your last appointment with your tailor?” Shufflebottom, of course, was turned out in an attack of ruffles and lace.
“It would appear so,” Harlowe said. “What is that contraption wrapped about your neck? You look as though your head turns just so, you will strangle yourself.” Not that Harlowe wouldn’t have stood there and watched.
“It’s the latest thing. The Gordian Knot. Dashing, don’t you think?”
Harlowe met Welton’s eyes, and for the first time since they were children, they rolled their eyes heavenward in a shared kinship. The man was a coxcomb.
Harlowe let out a sigh. “Whatever happened to something simple, like the Hunting?”
Shufflebottom’s nose lifted. “Good God, man. That knot is what those in the stews wear, if they bother to wear one at all,” he said with conceited disgust.
Harloweglanced up at Maeve. Why not marry her? The idea held appeal. Nathan needed a mother. She was pragmatic, not prone to jealous fits—at least as far as he could determine. But then again, he was fortunate he could remember his own name.
“Fascinating woman.”
Harlowe’s gaze snapped back and narrowed on Shufflebottom. He was tugging and adjusting his lace cuffs. Which had Harlowe tugging on his own, making certain the scars on his wrists remained hidden. He stole a glance at Shufflebottom. What was the man’s interest in Maeve? Harlowe’s insides screamed “danger.” “Yes, she is. We’re to be married soon.”
“That so?” Welton chimed in. He clapped Harlowe on the shoulder. “Congratulations, old chap. Hadn’t heard a word.”
“Thank you, Welton. The question was just posed tonight.” Now he just had to inform Maeve before someone else did.
Maeve had never been so humiliated in her life. What had possessed her to propose marriage to the viscount? A man who had more shadows than a cemetery at midnight, under a full moon.
“This planwillwork, your grace,” Lady Parther was saying to Oxford. “Felicity just needs time. You mark my words.”
Maeve let the words roll over her. She had no interest in Oxford’s and Lady Parther’s machinations for his daughter, Felicity. She resisted the urge to rub her temples. Instead, she moved to the railing that overlooked the ballroom below.
“Lady Parther, I’ve heard quite enough,” Oxford said from behind her. He moved beside Maeve and leaned against a column. While Oxford was adept at hiding his frustration, Maeve detected it quite distinctly.
“Are you sure you won’t marry me, Lady Alymer?” The duke sounded as resigned as Maeve felt.
She conjured up a weak smile. “As tempting as your proposal is, your grace, I’m afraid not.” From the corner of her eye, Maeve caught the distinct tightening of Lady Parther’s jaw and smothered a small smile.
“His grace is just too impatient.” Lady Parther pointed her fan toward the dance floor where her nephew, the Earl of Lexum, was taking a turn about the floor with Oxford’s daughter. The music stopped, and Maeve watched Lexum grab Felicity’s hand.
A smile touched Maeve. “I sense love in the air,” she teased Oxford.
Lady Parther gave a disdainful sniff. “My exact thoughts, Lady Alymer.”
Felicity said something to Lexum, and they did an about-face in the opposite direction. “Lexum is the perfect antidote for having Felicity face her fears of Christmas, your grace,” Lady Parther said.
The duke let out a snort, showing his feelings on the matter.
“Lady Felicity doesn’t care for Christmas?” Maeve asked.
“There were extenuating circumstances,” he said, somewhat defensively to Maeve’s ears. “And that is all I shall say on the matter.”
With a slight smile, Maeve turned her attention back to the ballroom floor below while Oxford and Lady Parther kept up their mild bickering. Lexum and Felicity disappeared near the refreshment table, which put them out of sight from Maeve’s vantage point on the balcony. She sensed a future wedding in the works, whether Oxford wanted it or not.
Maeve tuned them out and had started to turn when another movement caught her eye. She was careful not to shift her head. There was a stirring in the crowd below, and Harlowe appeared at the base of the stairs with Lorelei at his side. After a few moments, his sister moved away, frowning. Welton and Shufflebottom moved beside him, and Maeve moved back from the railing.
What a pickle she’d placed herself in. She might as well have announced her stupidity to the entireton. Clearly, she couldn’t stay at the Kimptons’ much longer. How was she supposed to face Harlowe again after her smashing faux pas?
Maeve couldn’t tolerate the festive air about her one more minute.
