“Merci,”she said to the footmen before remembering where she was. She laughed softly to herself. “I mean, thank you.”
The two young men blushed, bowed, and rushed off.
“They’re smitten with ye, missus,” Susanna said, giggling.
“What?” Nicole’s eyes widened. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Them? With me?”
“Yes, I heard them when they saw ye getting out o’ the coach. ‘Oy, but who knew the stone man would have such a mighty fine-lookin’ wife?’ they said.”
Louise nodded and giggled again too. “It’s true. They both said it.”
Nicole shook her head. It was pure silliness to think such young men would be enamored of her, but it did soothe her confidence. Did Mark think she was “mighty fine-lookin’?” She certainly thought he was, which made it more difficult to contemplate hopping into bed with him. If he’d become old and scarred and ugly over the years, she might be able to close her eyes and get it over with, but the man made her knees weak even still. Just like he had the night they met…
***
When she saw him again, she sucked in her breath. There he was, her soldier from the mews, standing near the refreshment table, surrounded by a group of herfriends. For some reason she’d been startled to see him. He should have been a figment of her imagination, conjured from thin air and her vivid thoughts of what a truly handsome dashing young man would look like. But there he was again in the flesh. His hair was just as dark and ruffled as it had been outside. His eyes seemed darker when countered with the bright light of the ballroom. He was even more handsome than her memory.
He glanced over at her and raised his glass in silent salute. She blushed and turned away. So he did recognize her. At first she’d wondered how well he’d been able to see her outside. Now she had her answer. Soon she would have another answer… to the question he’d refused.
“Mother?” she asked, turning toward the older woman next to her. “Mother, who is that?” She nodded across the ballroom to the group he was in. He’d returned his attention to the many young women who were vying for it. Suddenly, Nicole was inexplicably jealous of the other girls.
“Who?” Mother said, scanning the room. She pushed a blond-gray curl away from her forehead.
“The soldier in the middle of that group over there. The one Lady Elizabeth is standing next to.”
Mother narrowed her blue eyes. “I’ve no idea. No one of importance, I daresay.” Mother turned away to speak with friends.
Not to be deterred, Nicole dodged the Marquess of Tinsley’s small entourage and made her way to the other side of the ballroom where her grandmother held court. She wiggled into the middle of Grandmama’s circle.
“Ah, Nicole, darling, there you are. Aren’t you a vision?” Grandmama dropped her voice to a whisper. “Has the marquess asked you to dance?”
“Not yet, Grandmama.” She left out the part of how she hadn’t allowed him to see her long enough to ask her to dance. That would only worry the older woman.
“Well, off with you then. He’s not likely to find you over here with all of these decrepit old things. Go, enjoy yourself with the youngsters.”
“I will, Grandmama, I promise, but I came to ask you something first.”
“What is it, dear?” her grandmother asked, turning her purple-silk-turbaned head in Nicole’s direction.
“Who is that man standing in the group near the refreshment table? The soldier?”
Grandmama narrowed her eyes and squinted across the room. She plucked her golden-handled eyeglass from her bosom and squinted through it too. “Oh, that’s Corporal Grimaldi.”
Grimaldi? Nicole blinked. The name surprised her.
“Doesn’t sound very English, does it?” Grandmama sighed.
“No.”
“His father’s Italian. Just met the lad tonight. Clever young man.” She gazed after the soldier with a fond smile.
Nicole pursed her lips. “Hmm. Do you know anything else about him?”
Grandmama shifted her attention from the handsome corporal and gave Nicole a mock-stern stare. “I’m afraid not. Now off with you. You’re keeping the marquess waiting.”
Reluctantly, Nicole turned back to the other side ofthe ballroom. She danced with the marquess as she was bid, but mostly because she’d never hear the end of it if she did not have at least one dance to speak of later when her mother and grandmother asked. The entire time they waltzed, she tried not to stare at the portly man’s wet bottom lip but she couldn’t seem to help it. It was like looking at a carriage accident. One didn’t want to see anything truly heinous but one couldn’t help but glance from time to time.
After the dance ended, the marquess deposited her back on the sidelines. She’d long ago learned that the best way to dodge his further advances was to send him in search of a refreshment and then become scarce.
