“I have already,” he said before the orchestra struck up and they were caught in the movements of the dance.
Chapter Six
Nellie had toforce herself to concentrate as she performed the steps of the quadrille with Lord Beauchamp. On the other side of the dance floor, Charles danced with her sister. She thought he moved gracefully for an athletic man. They turned, and for a brief moment, his gaze fused with hers from over her sister’s shoulder. Ellie’s hand trembled, causing Lord Beacham to glance at her.
Charles intrigued her, that was the trouble, and his masculinity drew her to him. He was handsome in his superbly tailored black and white evening clothes. To free her mind from speculation fueled by Marian’s colorful account of the marriage bed, which would have shocked their mother, Nellie attempted to settle her thoughts on prosaic matters. She couldn’t help being pleased for her mother that the ball was such a success. Once the possibility of a union between Nellie and Charles had become more likely, Mama had toiled for months planning every detail of this ball. Because of her efforts, the occasion would be talked about for months to come.
Many had come tonight with the expectation of seeing Nellie engaged to the duke. Laughter floated in the air along with the candle smoke. The long room, its twin chandeliers ablaze, had been transformed into a perfumed garden festooned with garlands and hot-house flowers. In their new liveries, which replaced their sadly faded garbs, footmen carried trays of champagne and lemonade among the guests.
What a disaster it might have been if, for some reason, she and Charles had decided not to marry. What if she’d hated him on sight? He would not have considered for one moment she might refuse him. A thrill ran down her spine as she recalled how he’d wasted little time in claiming her. Was it because he liked what he saw? Did he approve of her?
Her steps faltered again. Nellie shrugged apologetically at her partner.
“You have good reason to be distracted,” Lord Beauchamp said with an understanding smile.
“How kind, sir. I shall endeavor not to stand on your toes,” she said with a laugh.
She was floating, feeling outrageous and so unlike herself. She’d begun to fear she would never be quite herself again.
Even her Aunt Bea, who rarely ventured out of her house these days, had come tonight. Nellie had watched when her father introduced Charles to her aunt. Charles had sat and talked to her for several minutes. She had listened intently and nodded with a thoughtful expression. Charles could converse on any level. And when he spoke, people listened. It might be expected of a duke, but it was also a gift he had that she approved of.
When the dance concluded, Nellie made her way to her aunt, where she sat holding up her pince-nez, observing the guests with a jaundiced eye.
“My dear, Cornelia.” Aunt Bea smiled as Nellie kissed her papery cheek and took the spare chair beside her. “I have met your fiancé.”
Lady Beatrice Ralston’s branch of the family could be traced back to the signing of the Magna Carta. Bea considered few people other than royalty worthy of her respect. Even some royals were treated with the utmost contempt. George I was considered a German upstart, as were the subsequent Hanoverian kings. Nellie was careful not to mention the Prince of Wales, for she feared his latest antics would produce an apoplectic fit.
“Do you like Shewsbury, Aunt Bea?”
“I do. He gave me some very good advice about investments. He is very knowledgeable and precise. I suspect he prefers a well-ordered world. That is all very fine and good, as long as you don’t allow him to demand the same from you.” Her aunt waved her fan before her face, failing to stir the rigid curls of her gray wig. “You were a passionate child, Nellie, quick to love, and hate, too, when it was warranted. You’ve learned to temper your emotions, to be the dutiful daughter, but you haven’t changed much.” She nodded sagely. “You and the duke might be like chalk and cheese, but if you give full rein to your feelings, you’ll loosen him up. And that makes for a passionate relationship.” She patted Nellie on the cheek, the large diamonds on her gloved fingers flashing a spectrum of colors in the candlelight. “Men do like to control women. It’s extremely tedious. As if we women haven’t a reasonable thought in our heads. Makes me exceedingly glad Ralston passed away years ago.”
Nellie was used to Aunt Bea’s forthright speech, but she was also the wisest of souls. Nellie glanced over to where Charles talked to Mr. Penhurst, whose property ran with her father’s on the west boundary. Penhurst was a keen hunter. He was always out shooting. No doubt he and Charles had much in common. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Her aunt was right. She and Charles were very different. She doubted he would ever fully understand her. It should not matter, and yet it did.
“Don’t stand for any nonsense.” Aunt Bea’s gray eyes brightened. “It will be a battle worth winning.”
Nellie laughed. “Thank you, darling Aunt Bea. I can always count on you for excellent advice. Shall I ask the footman to bring you a glass of lemonade? Or would you prefer coffee?”
Aunt Bea’s eyes widened. “Champagne, my girl. How do you think I’ve kept my complexion?”
Nellie rose. “I’ll give an order for a glass to be served to you, and perhaps a lobster patty? I tried one, and they are delicious.”
Her aunt nodded her approval.
As Nellie went in search of a footman, Charlotte Liddiard, her second cousin on her mother’s side of the family, intercepted her. “My felicitations, Nellie.” She raised her heavy dark eyebrows. “His Grace is the catch of the Season. In fact, he has been for the past several Seasons.”
“You make him sound like a prize trout.” Nellie smiled. “But thank you.”
Charlotte snickered. She was not one of Nellie’s favorites among her cousins. Charlotte wasn’t a happy person since the man she wanted had married someone else. Although Nellie felt sorry for her, she had witnessed how spiteful and jealous Charlotte could be. She had never been that way with Nellie. Until now, perhaps, for there was an unpleasant expression in her green eyes.
“Shewsbury is close to thirty, isn’t he?”
“I believe so.” Nellie wondered where this was leading.
She nodded with a knowing expression. “He has not sought to marry since his former fiancée was snatched from him almost at the altar. Her father wed her to a neighbor.”
“Well, he has obviously recovered,” Nellie said crisply, glancing around for a footman.
“One’s first love is always so special. Don’t you agree?”
