Danielle gave him a brilliant smile. “Then Mother can concentrate on Dahlia’s wedding,” she said happily.
“You’re sure she won’t mind? Not doing a big wedding for you, I mean?”
His bride-to-be grinned. “If it means my father’s ghost won’t be haunting us any longer? I’ll be sure of it.”
It was five minutes of eleven when Andrew delivered Danielle to the front door of Norwick House.
“I may not see you before the ball Tuesday night,” Andrew whispered. “Will you save both waltzes for me?”
Danielle gave him a brilliant smile. “I will.” Her eyes rounded. “Oh, Lord Weatherstone will want to be the first to announce our betrothal,” she breathed, remembering how the ancient earl insisted that his first ball of the Season feature the betrothals that had occurred over the winter months.
“I’ll escort you down the stairs,” Andrew promised, at the same moment Belvedere opened the door. Unable to kiss her in the presence of the butler, Andrew merely kissed the back of her hand. “Wish me luck.”
A quarter-of-an-hour later, he completed a discussion with Daniel, Earl of Norwick, and took his leave as he displayed a huge grin of relief.
