Page 47 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Emily inclined her head. “The supper dance is yours, my lord.”

His eyes warmed. “Thank you. And having secured your hand for one dance, I hope you will allow me another request. The reel is one of my favorites. I should enjoy the second reel more so with you as my partner.”

“How gracious of you,” she replied, keeping her tone even. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent.” He started to take his leave. “Then I look forward to claiming your hand for that dance.” He took a step back, ready to leave her side, his gaze already to where his mother stood among several other matrons.

As his brother still had not appeared, Emily raised her hand to stop him, nearly taking his arm. She caught herself before committing that impropriety, but hastened to speak.

“My lord, I have noticed your brother is not in attendance this evening. Does he plan to arrive later or…?” If Lyness—Mr. Eastwood—was not coming at all, she would rather know in that moment than spend the entirely of the ball looking for him in the crowd.

“My brother?” He blinked at her, then looked back over his shoulder, as though he had realized in the same moment that his younger brother did not shadow him. “He arrived with us. He must have been delayed by someone. I am certain he will appear at any moment. I will tell him you asked after him, if he finds me before he speaks to you.” He returned to his bow, then walked toward his mother.

Her heart tripped as she looked toward the doors again. He was here. She would see him. Dance with him. And, hopefully, decide what to do about the pull she felt every time he came near.

Juniper rejoined her, standing directly at Emily’s side. “That conversation seemed to go well.” She studied Emily, her eyes curious and kind. “Are you looking forward to dancing with the baron?”

“Yes. Of course.” Emily checked the buttons on her gloves. “I am. I have not danced with him since that first ball in London.”

“No. You have not. Nor have you danced with Mr. Eastwood.” Juniper raised her eyebrows slightly. “I heard you ask after him.”

Oh. Emily forced her smile to shrink to a more neutral expression. “It seemed polite. Was it wrong?”

“No.” Juniper’s brows drew together. “Not in the least. But I do wonder, my dear, if⁠—”

Miss Nelson returned at that moment, and relief made Emily greet her with greater enthusiasm. She did not know what Juniper wondered, but she could guess it had something to do with Juniper’s curiosity toward Mr. Eastwood. A thing Emily couldn’t discuss at present without heat coloring her cheeks.

“I am eager for the dancing to begin, Miss Nelson. I can understand the appeal now to arriving late to a ball.”

“Oh, but you did find one benefit,” sighed Miss Nelson, using her fan to tap Emily’s arm, “to have one’s supper dance secured so early in the evening, and by one of the most eligible bachelors in York, is quite an accomplishment. You must feel very grand indeed, Lady Emily.”

“I feel…” Emily searched for the right word. Trapped would not do. “I feel aware, painfully so, that I must not tread upon Lord Hartwell’s toes, either literally or figuratively.”

Miss Theodora laughed. “I am sure you will do no such thing. You looked perfectly at ease while speaking with him.”

“That is different,” Emily said. “I will have to keep up a conversation for a quarter of an hour, at the least, while going through the steps of the dance. I hope no one thinks poorly of him for any ungracefulness on my part.”

“Nonsense,” Miss Nelson declared. “He seemed pleased when you accepted his invitation. And what does it matter, what anyone else thinks? Everyone is far too occupied with themselves to notice others. Well. Almost everyone.”

The younger Miss Theodora leaned closer, her eyes sparkling. “Speaking of being occupied, I do believe Mr. Holly is about to occupy my full attention. Look—there he is. With Mr. Eastwood and a stranger. That must be his cousin from Town.”

Emily turned around at once. Mr. Holly made his way toward them through the throng, offering polite nods and smiles to others as he came. On one side of him was a man Emily had never seen before, nor had much interest in. Beside that man walked another gentleman, taller and more soberly dressed, his expression distinctly displeased.

Her breath caught.

Lyness.

Lyness Eastwood lingered on Blake Street after his mother and brother disappeared into the Assembly Rooms ahead of him. The lamplight glowed warmly through the tall windows, music already threading faintly into the night, but he made no move to follow.

He was not eager to do more injury to his heart.

Even so, the desire to go inside tugged at him relentlessly. To see Lady Emily again. To assure himself that she was well, enjoying herself, not overwhelmed by the noise and movement of the evening. He could scarcely think of the panorama exhibit without his pulse quickening—those quiet moments when she had leaned into his presence without hesitation, when she had placed her hand in his as though it belonged there.

Stolen things, those moments. Not meant for him.

He had lived his life accustomed to standing behind his brother. Roman stepped forward; Lyness supported him from behind. Roman spoke; Lyness ensured the details held together. He waited in the wings, ready to step in only if his brother faltered. It had never troubled him before. He had never wanted anything for himself that Roman wanted.

And while Roman did not yet possess Lady Emily’s affections—or her hand—he had marked his interest plainly enough. An interest their mother approved. An interest the world would understand.