Chapter
Eleven
It had been a mistake, accepting Lord Egerton’s invitation to dance.
Not just one dance, either, buttwo. That tedious Sussex Waltz, followed by an equally tedious quadrille. Whatever madness had made her agree to such torture, she heartily regretted it now.
It wasn’t that she could complain about Lord Egerton’s manners. He’d asked her a great many questions, perhaps more questions than was strictly polite, but otherwise he’d behaved as respectfully as any young lady could possibly demand.
“I believe this is the first ball you’ve attended in London, is it not, Lady Harriet?”
“Yes, my lord.”
They were separated by the figures of the dance before she could say more, but Lord Egerton resumed his interrogation as soon as they were joined again. “Your first season, as well?
My, he was curious, wasn’t he? “Yes, my lord.”
“Your family doesn’t often venture out of Kent, then?” Lord Egerton’s hand pressed more firmly against her back. “I understand that your brother Lord Melrose has not yet arrived in London?”
“No, my lord.” His hand was too warm. She could feel a trace of dampness on his palm even through the silk of his gloves, and it was all she could do not to flinch away from him. “He has business that is keeping him in Oxfordshire at the moment.”
“Ah, I see. Do you expect him soon?”
It was the third time he’d questioned her about Johnathan, and his relentless quizzing was growing wearying. “The date of his and Lady Melrose’s arrival has not yet been determined, my lord.”
“Ah. And so, the three lovely young Parrish sisters are left all alone in London.”
“Alone?” What an odd thing to say. “We’re hardly alone, Lord Egerton. We have Lady Fosberry.”
“Of course, of course.” He smiled at her. “I beg your pardon, Lady Harriet.”
She didn’t quite like that smile, somehow. There was something…knowingabout it, as if he knew something she did not.
But perhaps she wasn’t being fair to Lord Egerton. He hadn’t done anything wrong, exactly, yet Cass’s voice kept echoing in her head, warning her against the man, and urging her to keep away from him.
He’s neither respectable, nor a gentleman…
Lord Egerton made her uneasy, but it was no small thing to question a gentleman’s respectability, and she didn’t like to jump to conclusions.
But despite the recent turmoil between her and Cass, she couldn’t find it in herself to doubt him. There were a great many unanswered questions and misunderstandings between them, but Cass would never lie to her.
In the end, it all ruined her enjoyment in her first two dances at a London ball. She spent the duration of it peering over Lord Egerton’s shoulder toward the corner of the ballroomLady Fosberry had commandeered and envying the young ladies who’d been condemned to sit out the first dance for lack of a partner.
How much simpler it must be to be a wallflower!
By the time the musicians played the last note ofLe Pantalon, it was everything she could do not to flee the ballroom altogether and spend the rest of the evening hiding in the ladies’ retiring room.
“I thank you for the pleasure of your company, my lord.” She offered Lord Egerton a hasty curtsey and began to back away from him. “If you’ll pardon me, I believe Lady Fosberry is looking for me.”
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I shall deliver you to her forthwith, Lady Harriet. Shall we skirt around the perimeter of the ballroom? It will be much quicker if we avoid the crush.”
In the interest of shedding Lord Egerton more quickly than not, she gave a distracted nod and let him guide her through the press of bodies, but somehow she lost sight of Lady Fosberry entirely as they weaved this way and that, and the first inklings of uneasiness tripped down her spine.
But no, she was being ridiculous. They were in the middle of a crowded ballroom, for pity’s sake, with hundreds of people surrounding them. Even if Lord Egerton was every bit the villain Cass claimed he was, he wouldn’t dare try and?—
“You look overly warm, Lady Harriet. Perhaps I’d better take you for a breath of air. I’d never forgive myself if you succumbed to a swoon.”
“I’m not at all warm, my lord, and I don’t have the least intention of?—”
