‘You are under a misapprehension, Cradley. It was I who discovered that you are married, or rather information came to me, and by chance. Miss Lound has not been “sniffing”.’ Sir Rowland spoke curtly. ‘If you wish to pick a fight, make it with me. I am perfectly willing to oblige.’ He took another step forward, belligerently.327Miss Lound could sense how close both men were to grappling with each other. She did not think she could part them without also drawing attention to the fracas, so resorted to sarcasm.
‘That’s right, create even more of an embarrassment. Why not announce it to the entire party and we can watch fisticuffs on the dance floor. I am sure Lady Roxton would be delighted for so unusual an entertainment. It would be talked of for months.’ Miss Lound’s tongue was equally scathing to both gentlemen. She then turned to Sir Rowland. ‘And if you do not solicit me for the next dance I … I will not let you fish with a Lound’s Lucky when the season begins.’ As a threat it sounded, even to her own ears, rather weak.
Lord Cradley looked at her in bemusement. Sir Rowland merely bowed.
‘In the face of such a threat, ma’am, what can I do but entreat you to return to the ballroom with me and partner me in the next dance, whatever it may be.’
‘Er,’ Miss Lound swiftly consulted her dance card, and then blushed. ‘It is a waltz, sir. I can waltz but have rarely done so in public.’
He smiled; she was so deliciously honest.
‘Then I am especially honoured.’ He held out his arm, and she took it, looking up at him, fleetingly, her confidence draining. They ignored Lord Cradley and went back to the sound of the fiddles. A cotillion had ended, and, having waited a few moments so as not to be the first upon the dance floor, Sir Rowland led Miss Lound onto it328and placed his hand, lightly, at her waist. He looked down at her, but did not speak until the music began, and they had commenced twirling about the room. Miss Lound was a competent dancer, though he felt her a little stiff. She did not look him in the face but stared somewhere in the middle of his cravat.
‘I apologise, Sir Rowland,’ she said, just loud enough to be heard. ‘It was the only way I thought I could prevent you from knocking him down.’
‘Well, I am pleased you were confident that I would do so, and you were probably right. You can be very dictatorial, you know.’ He sounded quite casual about it, as though commenting upon the weather. It could even have been described as caressing, but Mary Lound had never had a man speak to her in such a way, and did not hear the caress, only the truth of the words.
‘Yes,’ she admitted, and if there was a trace of regret it disappeared as she continued, looking up and into his face, ‘but in fairness, someone has to manage things, and too often there is nobody else.’ Her eyes held a spark of challenge.
‘As ever, O pragmatic Miss Lound, you are very right.’ He smiled, casting all thoughts of Cradley aside and giving in to how breathtakingly beautiful he found her, especially in a ball gown with very much more Mary Lound visible than when fishing or riding, and this time she did feel the caress.
She had told herself over and over that the sort of falling in love that she saw even Harry Penwood tumble329into was not for her, but her heart was betraying her; her body was betraying her. She had ceased to be sensible and pragmatic when it came to Rowland Kempsey. She had not sought love, but love had sneaked in and conquered her. The last few weeks had felt magical, a dream, because his barriers too had been lowered, and she felt love had reached out to love and entwined, and tonight they had been achingly close.
Her thoughts twirled more than the steps of the waltz and suddenly she felt a little sick and very dizzy. A look of panic crossed her face and she went very pale.
‘Sir Rowland … I am sorry … I feel … dizzy …’
He felt her sag slightly and drew her instantly from the floor and to a chair by a window embrasure, where she sank more than sat. Her head drooped, and for a moment he wondered if she might pass out completely and collapse. He cast a swift glance about the room, hoping to see Lady Damerham, but she was not in view. He wondered if it was indeed the unfamiliarity of revolving, and in a warm room, that had caused Miss Lound’s indisposition. She was hardly the weak and feeble sort of female. He leant down and took her hand.
‘Can I fetch you a glass of water? I cannot see Lady Damerham …’
‘In a moment, perhaps … please … do not leave me just yet.’ It was a gasping whisper.
‘I will not leave you.’ It was a promise, and he did not let go of her hand.
Mary tried to take deep breaths, for that was what330one was meant to do if feeling faint, she remembered. Remembering anything in an ordered way seemed impossible, and the only solid thing in her dizzy world was his hand holding hers. She felt it as though it alone was preventing her from slipping into oblivion.
‘Is Miss Lound taken unwell?’
Sir Rowland straightened slightly and found Lord Roxton before them.
‘Yes. I believe the twirling of the dance after …’ Sir Rowland wondered if his host was as yet aware of what had gone on in the orangery, but the look he received gave him the answer. ‘It is also very warm with the number of persons. If we could perhaps assist her somewhere cooler and more private?’
‘Of course. Miss Lound, let me help you to stand, and Kempsey will be upon your other side. We will have you right as a trivet once you are somewhere quiet.’ Lord Roxton actually hauled Mary to her feet, and with the gentlemen supporting her, she went with faltering steps. As she left the room she heard a girlish voice say, ‘Poor Miss Lound. She is too old to take up the waltz.’
Once in the passage Sir Rowland, seeing how white she remained, cast propriety to the winds, and lifted her into his arms.
‘A chamber with a chaise, my lord, and if we could send for water?’
‘Yes, yes of course. Last woman I would expect to faint, you know. Most unexpected.’ Lord Roxton led the way to a door which he opened into darkness. ‘I will331bring a branch of candles. Here, Thomas, fetch a glass of water, and do not dawdle.’ He addressed a servant, who was walking past with a tray of glasses, then took a candelabrum from a side table and led Sir Rowland, with his fair burden, into a small room with a sofa and such furnishings as marked it as a chamber where ladies sat cosily to do needlework or read.
‘Here, set her down gently, Kempsey. I shall go and find Lady Damerham.’ Lord Roxton left them, as Sir Rowland gently settled Miss Lound upon the sofa. Her eyes were shut, but she bit her lip, so was not insensible. She swallowed and took a deep breath.
‘I am so sorry … never done anything as foolish in my life …’
‘If this is the most “foolish” thing you have ever done, Miss Lound, I can only commend your inestimable good sense. Lie quietly, and water will be brought directly.’ He tried to sound unconcerned and positive, though he was worried about her. There came a knock, and Thomas entered, bearing not only a glass upon a tray, but a full jug of water. Just for a second Sir Rowland wondered if the man was expecting him to throw it over her.
‘Thank you. Please leave the door not quite closed, and direct Lady Damerham within as soon as she comes.’
