Grant only half listened after discerning that she was not in imminent danger of falling in love with a rake. He must be more observant and not leave it all to Aunt Jane. He would never forgive himself if his sister’s Come Out was ruined because he’d been careless. “They are calling a country dance; do you have a partner?”
“Oh, yes,” she glanced around and Grant spied a gentleman making his determined way toward them. He greeted the Honorable Mr. Fairview, a decent enough fellow. And watched as they went onto the dance floor.
He scanned the dancers gathering on the floor, searching for a familiar slim figure in a pale-yellow dress. Where was she?
* * *
Laughter and chatter seemed to increase in tempo and the chandelier burned hotly overhead. Mercy put a hand to her brow. “Mama, I have a headache. Can we leave soon?”
Her mother drew her down onto the seat beside her. “We can, my dear. Your fiancé is still away so we need not have come tonight.”
“Northcliffe is here. I saw him earlier when I was dancing with Lord Bellamy.”
“He is?” Mama glanced around. “Oh yes, there he is on his way to us. Surely you’d like to spend some time with him before we go?”
Mercy had no such desire. “Yes, Mama.”
Her mother gave her a careful glance. “You are happy to marry him? I know I’ve asked you several times, and you’ve always seemed quite sure, but I do worry about how it all came about.” She sighed. “This arrangement was not of your choosing, my dear, and although Baxendale is very pleased with the outcome, it is you who should be happy above all else.”
Northcliffe had been detained for a moment with a friend. It was on the tip of Mercy’s tongue to ask for her mother’s help to end the engagement. What was the worst that could happen? Her father, should he agree, would be furious, and theton,no doubt, would take great delight in it. But she was already in the scandal sheets, and one more indiscretion added to the list could scarcely matter.
She looked up from smoothing her long white gloves. Northcliffe bowed before them in his evening attire, and his compelling gaze held her still. In her opinion, even faintly weary, he was the most attractive man here tonight. A complex man it was true, with secrets, some of which she hardly wished to learn, especially if they concerned a certain lady. But an undeniably exciting man too. Could they overcome their differences and come to care for one another? She gave herself a mental shake. She was not a Baxendale girl if she didn’t at least try.
“Lord Northcliffe. How good to see you,” Mama said, when he bowed over her hand. “I trust your trip was successful?”
“It was, thank you. But I regret being away for so long.” His tawny gaze settled on Mercy. “I hoped to partner Lady Mercy in the waltz.”
“The exercise might clear your head, my dear,” Mama said in an undertone. “If not, we shall go home directly after the dance.”
Northcliffe swept Mercy out onto the floor as soon as the first strains of a waltz sounded. “I apologize for my bad temper. My only excuse is fatigue.” He tilted his head. “Perhaps I should not have come, but I hoped to see you. And now that I have you in my arms, my tiredness has vanished. Your loveliness is a panacea for all ills, Lady Mercy.”
“Prettily said, my lord. I am sorry that you’ve had such a tiring journey.” She glanced up for a sign that he meant it, focusing on his square jaw and firm lips. Was he really intent on mending things between them? “You haven’t mentioned the reason you were called away.”
“No, it was the business venture I’m engaged in.”
Gentlemen were not often in business. As he had no estates to take up his time, she couldn’t help wondering what took him north. If it were his family, surely, he would explain. She opened her mouth to query him, but his warm hand firmed at her back and made her catch her breath. “I’m sorry the journey kept me away for so many days,” he said in a husky tone as he led her into the rotation. “May I hope you missed me?”
Mercy raised her eyes to his. “I did a little,” she was surprised into admitting. London had been a bore without him to spar with.
A smiled pulled at the corners of his mouth. “A little? That’s an improvement on indifference at least.”
He could be so very appealing when he chose. She’d been so furiously angry and upset with him only moments ago. Did he assume he could just smile and apologize and make everything that was said between them fade into nothing? And was she such a flibbertigibbet that he could assert that sort of power over her? She firmed her lips and tried to dismiss from her mind the widow’s confident assertion that she and Northcliffe enjoyed an intense, passionate relationship. But his elegance and grace, and his familiar scent as they danced, made her want to push those thoughts away. Later, soon as her head settled on the pillow, she knew the fact that he didn’t love her, had been forced to marry her, and blamed her for it, would plague her. That he may even be in love with Lady Alethea. But for now, Mercy just wanted to enjoy the moment. It was more about the waltz, an exhilarating dance, than him, she told herself.
“To be honest, sir, I have never been indifferent to you,” she said, when she could gain her breath after a fast turn.
He chuckled. “Perhaps that is something to build on?”
“I do hope so,” she admitted, with a reluctant smile.
“I don’t plan to leave London again before we leave for Yorkshire. I hope we can spend the time together.”
“I’d like that.”
“Tomorrow then, a carriage ride to Hyde Park? If the weather permits.”
“That sounds most pleasant.”
“Excellent.” He reversed them neatly amidst the other dancers. “I’ll call at five o’clock.”
