Later that evening, dressed in a daring red gown that Richard had purchased for her as a wedding gift, Mary arrived in the Thorncliff ballroom, escorted there by her husband who was looking very dashing in his evening black. At his request, she had declined the use of feathers and dressed her hair in a simple style with a mother-of-pearl comb as the only adornment.
“You are without a doubt the loveliest lady in the room, Mrs.Heartly,” Richard spoke close to her ear, the sound of his voice tickling her insides.
“In my opinion, I am the luckiest.” She smiled up at him while he guided her forward. “No other lady here can claim to have a husband as handsome as you. Indeed, I am sure that all the young debutantes here must be quite envious of me.”
Chuckling, he snatched a glass of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to her. “Perhaps I should invite one of them to dance?”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid and enjoying the fizz skipping along her tongue. “But before you do, I must insist that you partner with me for the cotillion.”
He didn’t look thrilled with the idea. “We will have to switch partners during, which is why I would much prefer the waltz.”
“There is no reason why we cannot dance both,” she said. “We are married now so we may dance with each other as many times as we like during the course of one evening.”
A smile followed. “Mrs.Heartly, I do believe I like the way you think.” Taking her glass from her, he took a sip as well before handing it to a nearby footman. “Shall we?”
Three other couples joined them, exchanging partners as they weaved in and out, joining hands, stepping back and moving in a wide circle. When the dance was almost at an end, Richard reached for Mary and pulled her unpredictably close. One second, her feet were firmly on the floor, the next, she was being swung through the air as he spun her around, eyes bright with love for her while everyone clapped in response.
She couldn’t help but laugh, her heart so full of light that it could scarcely contain it. Lowering her face toward his, her hands placed firmly upon his shoulders, she captured his lips to a cascading roar of “hurrahs!”
“I think thetonapproves of our match,” Richard grinned. Slowly, he returned Mary to a standing position, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist.
They stood like that for a moment until the claps and cheers faded and the orchestra struck up a new tune to signal the next dance. Moving aside, they were met by Sarah and Spencer. “Congratulations once again,” Spencer said. A smile lit his face, but nothing conveyed how happy he was on his brother’s behalf as the sheer joy shining in his eyes. Addressing Mary, he said, “I do hope that there is room on your dance card for me.”
“Of course there is,” she said, handing him the card and pencil so he could jot down his name.
“Just as long as you do not claim the waltz,” Richard cut in.
Straightening himself, Spencer arched an eyebrow and handed the dance card back to Mary. “No need to concern yourself about that.” Reaching for Sarah, he pulled her closer to his side. “If you recall, I am also recently married and intend on partnering with my viscountess for that particular dance.”
“Not to intrude,” Lady Duncaster said as she joined the group, “but I would like to have a private word with all of you later this evening. After supper perhaps? We can adjourn to the music room.”
“Certainly,” Sarah said. Leaning slightly forward, she softly inquired, “Will you tell us what this is about?”
Lady Duncaster’s assessing gaze roamed over each of them. “I prefer not to speak of it here. You will discover the subject soon enough. If you will excuse me now, it is time for me to dance the quadrille with his grace, the Duke of Pinehurst.”
Mary watched her drift across the floor in search of her partner. Dressed in a frothy blue gown trimmed with white lace, Lady Duncaster looked as though she’d just stepped out of the sea. Heavy bracelets encased her gloved wrists while a sapphire and diamond necklace paired with matching earrings and hairpins sent light scattering in her wake. It was difficult to imagine that she had won the archery contest during the games day four weeks earlier. A smile touched Mary’s lips at the thought of what it must have been like to have known the countess in her youth.
“What do you suppose that was about?” Spencer asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them as they’d each considered the meaning behind Lady Duncaster’s request.
Richard looked to Mary. “Do you think it might have something to do with what we found?”
Uncertain of how much she ought to divulge, Mary hesitated a moment before saying, “Perhaps. But if it is, then Lady Duncaster is right to caution us about speaking of it here.”
“I agree,” Sarah said. “We must respect her wishes.”
When Spencer opened his mouth as if to comment, Sarah stopped him with a quelling look. Instead he frowned, as did Richard. But this quickly changed with the arrival of Lady Fiona and Chadwick who were grinning as if they’d just been sharing a private joke. “What is it?” Spencer asked after eyeing them a moment.
Pressing her lips together, her eyes shimmering with mirth, Lady Fiona allowed Chadwick to answer. “I was just doing my impression of Lord Byron,” he said.
“The one where he discusses poetry with Prime Minister Jenkinson?” Spencer asked.
“The very one,” Chadwick said as he straightened his spine and brushed a piece of invisible lint from his jacket.
“You do both parts?” Richard asked.
Spencer nodded. “It is one of his best jokes, though I would caution you, Chadwick, not to do it in public since I’m not entirely certain that Jenkinson would approve of being laughed at.”
“It’s all in good sport,” Lady Fiona said. Having gathered her wits, she’d apparently decided to defend Chadwick even though he didn’t look the least bit concerned about Spencer’s comment.
