Without a word, he took her dance card from her wrist and inscribed his name beside the first dance—a cotillion, expected of him as host—and the supper waltz. Then, with a bow, he withdrew to speak to a group of gentlemen in the card room.
It seemed he had no intention of dancing with anyone else but her. Charlotte frowned at his retreating back, perplexed by his behaviour.
The neighbouring families had all been invited, and Mrs Wilberforce dutifully introduced Charlotte to them all. Before long, her dance card was entirely full. She could scarcely comprehend it. Once, she had struggled to secure even a single partner; now, by some strange twist of fate, young gentlemen were nearly quarrelling over her.
When the strains of music began for the first dance, Lord Stanley appeared by her side once more and led her to the dance floor.
Every eye in the ballroom seemed fixed upon them, making Charlotte acutely self-aware again. She fidgeted with her necklace and the button on her glove.
‘Imagine, if you will, that there is no one else here except me, Miss Lucas,’ he said, noticing her discomfort.
‘I am not certain that improves matters, my lord.’
He flashed a small smile. ‘I had no notion I possessed such a formidable effect upon you. Or perhaps there are other feelings at play?’
Charlotte bristled at the implication and met him between turns of the dance. ‘You flatter yourself, my lord. You have no effect on my feelings whatsoever,’ she lied.
‘Oh? The blush in your cheeks suggest otherwise.’
There was a challenge in his gaze as, during the next turn, he held her hand a little more firmly than was customary, drawing her fractionally closer when the couples met again.
‘And call me Henry my dear, you may as well get used to it.’
What did he mean by that?
She drew in an involuntary gasp, her eyes widening. Was he serious—or was it all a performance for the other dancers now watching them with knowing smiles?
Well, that accomplished one thing at least, she thought crossly. She was no longer conscious of the other guests.
Only of him.
As his piercing blue eyes fixed upon her, a strange exhilaration swept through Charlotte as they moved together, bewildering in its intensity. By the end of the first set, she felt thoroughly confused and flustered.
Lord Stanley escorted her back to the spinsters who beckoned eagerly for her attention.
Taking her free hand and kissing it lightly, he murmured, ‘Until our waltz.’
Then he sauntered away.
Miss Hill and Miss Underwood watched the entire exchange with mouths agape, their fans fluttering furiously.
‘Well, that was quite something,’ Miss Hill said breathlessly.
‘If only gentlemen had spoken to us so when we first came out,’ Miss Underwood sighed. ‘You are a fortunate creature, Miss Lucas.’
‘Quite right—wealth, rank, and affection. What more could any lady desire in this mortal realm, eh?’ Miss Hill declared, tapping her friend lightly with her fan.
Those remarks were enough to pull Charlotte sharply back to reality. If it were true, then perhaps she might indeed have been fortunate.
But it was not true.
It was a mirage.
Was it not?
And yet Charlotte’s brow furrowed as she watched Lord Stanley across the ballroom beside Miss Pearson. To her annoyance, she felt a faint and wholly unreasonable pang of disappointment.
When the Captain—who had secured her for the next set—approached, she accepted his arm and joined him upon the floor.
