A hand caught her elbow, the jolt of awareness it caused leaving no doubt in her mind about the identity of the person who’d touched her. She angled her head as George leaned in to murmur, “You’re a vision this evening, Margaret, for which I am grateful. It made finding you in this throng no hardship at all.”
She blushed as she turned more fully toward him. Dressed in a frock coat cut from navy blue silk, matching breeches, and a cream-colored waistcoat edged with gold trim, he looked incredibly handsome. Instead of a powdered wig, he wore his hair short, which Margaret preferred. “Shall we see if the ballroom’s more bearable?”
“Is that my cue to invite you to dance?” he asked with a teasing smile that made her heart triple in size.
Margaret loved the easy banter she’d grown accustomed to in his presence. “Maybe.”
He grinned and offered his arm, which she accepted as soon as she’d handed her half-empty glass of champagne to a nearby footman. “Let’s not waste any more time then.” He escorted her into the ballroom where a quadrille was underway.
“I’ve been wondering if you learned more with regard to Shrewsberry’s reasoning,” Margaret said while they waited for the dance to end.
“Indeed. It would appear he made a bet.”
“A bet?”
“Apparently, you have been labeled a challenging conquest. Shrewsberry has wagered one thousand pounds on being able to secure your hand.”
“But that’s preposterous.”
“It does explain why he’s still in pursuit.”
Margaret huffed a breath. One thousand pounds would not get the earl to relent any time soon. Which was something she found to be quite disconcerting.
The quadrille ended and George led her onto the dance floor. They took their positions for the ensuing minuet. The precise piece of music began. George bowed and Margaret curtsied. His hand clasped hers so he could guide her through the steps, turning her this way and that while weaving between other couples. The pleasure she saw in his eyes reflected the pure contentment she felt in her heart. This was the man she would marry. There was no doubt at all in her mind.
“I’ve heard there’s a scandalous dance spreading its way across the Continent,” George said when they’d danced for a while.
“You make it sound like a wildfire,” Margaret said with a smirk, “or a plague.”
“Apparently, it allows couples to dance while embracing.”
“Really?” She couldn’t imagine such a thing. It sounded both awkward and like a recipe for ruin.
“Oh yes,” he murmured. He drew her closer - much closer than the steps permitted. His hand settled neatly against her waist, just for a second, before he stepped back once again to add the appropriate distance. “A pity it hasn’t yet come to England.”
Margaret wished she had her fan at the ready. Heat burned her cheeks. “You are a scoundrel, aren’t you?”
“Only when I’m with you,” he assured her.
It was impossible not to smile in response to his words. No one had ever made her feel more adored than he. “These past few weeks have been the best of my life, George.”
“Mine too.” The music began to fade, drawing the dance to a close, but his gaze held hers with unwavering certainty. “Shall we go and get some fresh air on the terrace?”
“I’d like that. I just have to visit the ladies’ retiring room first.”
“All right. I’ll fetch a couple of drinks for us while I wait.”
Agreeing to meet him by the terrace doors, Margaret hurried off. Thankfully the line leading into the retiring room wasn’t as long as she’d feared it might be, allowing her to make her way back to the ballroom within ten minutes.
But before she managed to cross the parlor she had to pass through on her way, a familiar female voice called her name. For a second, Margaret considered pretending she hadn’t heard the summons, but to do so would be rude. So she stopped and turned to greet her friend.
“Callie. It’s been a while.”
“Too long,” Callie said. The Earl of Merryweather’s youngest daughter was accompanied by two other women with whom Margaret was acquainted, though not nearly as well. One was Miss Jemima Thornton, the other, Lady Kimberly Wessex.
“We missed you the last time we met to play shuttlecock,” Miss Thornton said. “It would have been better with two equal teams. Instead, we were forced to take turns.”
“I’m sorry. As I recall I was busy that day.” In fact, she’d declined the invitation Callie had issued so she could go riding with George instead.
