Page 50 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Mr. Booth was fair of features and wore an amiable expression as he bowed and expressed his pleasure in meeting all of them. But Emily’s attention darted from him to Mr. Eastwood immediately. She found him glancing at her, too.

Miss Nelson’s fan fluttered. “Oh, it is a pleasure, indeed, Mr. Booth,” she said with a lift of her brows and leaning toward him. “And have you made the visit here alone? Or do you have family as eager to enjoy the entertainments as yourself?”

It was, of course, a polite way to ask after his marital status. Emily’s lips twitched, and she saw Lyness’s smile do the same when she met his gaze. He moved to her side subtly, not drawing attention away from the newcomer. Indeed, Mr. Booth seemed quite happy to give a full explanation of having parents in London, brothers in another part of the country, and younger sisters.

Emily scarcely attended to a word. Not with Lyness shifting to stand nearer. He bent slightly nearer her, a warmth in his eyes that made her pulse thrum a reassuring rhythm in her ears.

“Lady Emily,” he said, and his voice was perfectly courteous, but she heard something more beneath it. Something tender. “I trust you are well this evening?”

“I am very well, Mr. Eastwood,” she replied, hoping Juniper was not paying attention to this conversation. Her sister-in-law saw too much as it was. “It is a great deal to take in and I cannot help but feel rather lost, but I am determined to enjoy it.”

Their eyes held for several insistent heartbeats. Long enough for the clamor of the ballroom to recede a fraction. His gaze stayed kind and steady. She was not lost in the crowd after all. Not if he saw her so clearly. Then the Nelson sisters’ laughter rippled outward, breaking the moment, while Mr. Booth wore an unrestrained smile.

Reluctantly, Emily gave her attention back to their conversation. But a rustle of movement swept through the room as gentlemen and ladies drifted toward the edges of the floor. The first notes from the musicians rose above the hum of conversation, bright and inviting.

“Oh,” Miss Nelson breathed, turning toward the music with obvious delight. “The dancing is beginning at last.”

Mr. Booth offered his arm at once. “Miss Nelson, may I beg the honor of this first set? If you are not already engaged.”

“I am not, Mr. Booth. Fortunately,” she replied, cheeks glowing as she placed her hand on his sleeve.

Her sister was claimed almost as quickly by Mr. Holly. Who looked once, pointedly, over his shoulder as he escorted her to the floor. Right at Lyness Eastwood.

Juniper gave Emily a quick glance. In the flurry of movement, Emily’s breath had caught and her body stiffened. Surely, this could not be more anxiety? She was among friends. And York was not London. Everything would be all right.

“Lady Emily.”

Lyness’s voice drew her attention at his steadying presence again. He stood closer than he had a moment before, his expression composed but his eyes full of an understanding she immediately appreciated. He bowed.

“If you have not yet engaged yourself for this set,” he said, “may I ask if you would do me the honor of partnering with me for the first two dances?”

Relief loosened the growing tightness in her chest. She let out a breathless, “Yes.” Then to cover the awkwardness of the answer, she spoke with more calm. “Yes, I would be glad to.”

His lips curved upward in a way that left no doubt of his pleasure. Not at all like his brother’s careful expression. Lyness offered his arm, and when she laid her gloved hand upon his sleeve, she was struck once more by the quiet steadiness of him. Nothing about him was pompous, or demanding, or arrogant. He was calm. Being near him was comforting. She did not find herself worrying about anything other than enjoying the moments in his company.

He led her onto the floor, guiding her into their place in the set with easy, unhurried movements. The figures of the dance were familiar, but the crowd, the heat, the possibility of misstep had all seemed so overwhelming moments before. Now, as the music swelled and they made their first steps, Lyness matched her with such ease that she barely felt the old panic stir at all.

They met in the center and parted again. “Do you enjoy the exercise, my lady?”

“I do,” she answered, her lips tipping upward. “I only wish my nerves were more reliable.”

He blinked, then gave a quiet huff that was almost a laugh. “I have never yet seen you falter when it counts, Lady Emily.”

“That is because you did not witness my first London quadrille,” she said, emboldened by the rhythm carrying them along. “I crossed at the wrong moment entirely and collided with a viscount.”

“Then I regret not being there to claim responsibility for the error,” he replied, tone dry but eyes twinkling. “I am very good at taking the blame for dancing mistakes. As any gentleman should be.”

The corner of her mouth lifted at that, and as they wove through the pattern—hands touching and parting, turning and casting off—the tightness in her lungs eased. Somewhat strangely, the noise of the ballroom faded to a manageable hum. His hand was always where it ought to be, never grasping too tightly. When the set called for a brief touch, his was gentle, no more than was needed to guide her.

Somewhere between one turn and the next, she realized she was smiling—truly smiling, not the careful, measured expression she had practiced in the mirror.

For the length of the dance, it felt as though the floor beneath her feet had steadied. As though the eyes around the room had turned away, leaving her to breathe freely. The same lightness kept her feet moving happily through the steps of the second dance, more lively than the first.

All too soon, the final chords of the set faded away. The couples bowed and curtseyed. Lyness stepped back and gave her a formal, if slightly reluctant, inclination of his head.

“Thank you, Lady Emily,” he said. “You dance beautifully.”

“Thank you, Mr. Eastwood.” She dipped in return, wishing the music might begin again at once. “You are a very patient partner. I quite forgot to worry over where to place my feet.”