Page 28 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

To her secret amusement, though his face flushed at her mention of an undergarment, he evidently couldn’t decide how to rebuke her impropriety without being himself even more indelicate. ‘Excellent,’ he said after a brief silence. ‘Let me escort you to Lady Englemere so we may obtain her permission.’

He offered his arm. Sighing, she took it.

After finding Sarah and obtaining her leave to dance—delivered with a raise of her eyebrows to Emma, Aldersby escorted her onto the floor.

As the music began, Aldersby looked over to where Richland was dancing with Lady Jersey. ‘You are somewhat acquainted with that fellow, aren’t you? The new Marquess of Richland?’

‘Yes. My brother-in-law, Lord Englemere, is a close friend of his colonel. Lord Richland was a lately a lieutenant in Dunbar’s Dragoons and participated bravely in many battles during the Peninsular war.’

‘I’d heard he was a military man before his elevation to the peerage. Probably a rough sort. It’s near an outrage to have a person of that background supplant a gentleman bred to the position. Poor Lord George! I understand the Stratton solicitors examined all avenues, but found no way to prevent the change, as this fellow is the legitimate son of the late Marquess by a wife nobody ever heard of. Some jumped-up governess, apparently, who snagged him when he was still a younger son. A clever baggage, to be sure! Though I’m assured the Strattons never recognised the marriage. One can’t blame them—how distasteful to have one’s blood tainted by intermarriage with a woman of inferior breeding! Still, I daresay the ladies will be agog, despite the man’s lack of background. Though with your superior intellect, I trust you will not be among them, Miss Wellingford, clamouring after the man only because he now possesses title and fortune.’

After once again clenching her teeth to forestall herself trying to interrupt that monologue—from previous exposure to the man, Emma knew any such attempt would be futile—she said stiffly, ‘I trust I am not “clamouring after” any gentleman.’

‘Indeed not, Miss Wellingford. Which is one of the things I admire about you—your modesty and maidenly reserve. You quite properly wait for a man of suitable status to offer his attentions rather than throwing yourself at his head, as so many females do.’ He frowned. ‘Which is so unattractive.’

She bit back the further response that she didn’t ‘throw herself’ at eligible gentlemen because she had no wish to marry—especially not him. Though to her relief, the figures of the dance moved her away from him for most of the remaining movements, she was counting the moments until the dance ended.

Curtseying to him as the music stopped after they were reunited for the final figure, Emma said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go now and repair that lace.’

He bowed, his face again reddening slightly at that glancing reference to undergarments. ‘Of course. And I’ll wait in happy expectation of leading you out again. Propriety does allow me a second dance.’

‘You needn’t wait. I… I may rest for a while after I repair the lace. I have a bit of the headache.’

‘Dear me, should I fetch your sister? I would be honoured to escort you home, if Lady Englemere is not yet ready to leave the ball.’

‘No, no need for that. I just require a bit of quiet. It’s so…so crowded and hot in here.’

‘Indeed. I shall linger, then, to make sure you feel better when you do emerge.’

Nearly ready to scream with frustration, Emma was hard put to keep her voice cordial. ‘That’s kind of you, but you really should remain in the ballroom and do other ladies the honour of partnering them.’

‘But there are no other ladies quite as attractive and desirable as you, Miss Wellingford. None so well worth waiting for.’

Few with so attractive and desirable a dowry, she thought furiously as she all but turned her back on him and paced off towards the ladies’ withdrawing room.

Once inside that sanctuary, she poured water into a basin and splashed some over her hot cheeks. Then, finding a chair farthest away from the other chatting ladies, she sat and took a series of deep breaths, trying to regain her calm. How she dreaded returning to the ballroom, for she was certain Aldersby, as good as his word, would be watching for her.

But after an interval, she marshalled her courage. Sarah didn’t exactly watch over her, despite Aldersby’s belief that she should, but her sister would notice if she were absent too long and might worry. With any luck, by now politeness would have required Aldersby to stand up with some other unfortunate damsel. Hopefully, she could slip back into the ballroom unnoticed and find another partner before he spotted her.

With a deep breath, she walked back out, but as she paused on the ballroom’s threshold, she realised she was not in luck. Aldersby was over on the far side—not, unfortunately, dancing, but nodding to the gentleman beside him while casting periodic glances toward the doorway through which she’d have to enter.

Richland stood at the edge of the ballroom, too—surrounded five-deep by a crowd of eager, smiling ladies and gentlemen.

Which was only what she’d expected, but her spirits sank anyway. She took another step toward the ballroom, then halted.

She simply couldn’t endure more of Aldersby’s conversation and dogged pursuit. Looking around for possible escape, she noted doors leading to a terrace. If she waited until Aldersby turned to speak to his companion, she might be able to slip out before he spotted her.

Fresh air and a bit more solitude and she’d be able to rally herself to face the facts.

She would have to discourage Aldersby on her own. Richland—her lieutenant no more—was already being swept away into his destiny.

Seizing the moment Aldersby turned his gaze from the doorway, Emma scurried out the terrace doors. Passing several couples also taking the air and a group of chatting ladies fanning themselves, she sought the dim corner farthest from the flickering flambeaux.

Huddling in that space, she gazed down at the moonlit garden below. Might the pathway from the terrace lead to a gate at the front of the house, where she might engage a hackney back to Stanhope House?

But she couldn’t leave the ball without letting Sarah know. Sooner or later, she’d have to return to the ballroom—and confront an undoubtedly still-waiting Aldersby.

With no assurance that she’d be able to count on Richland for help escaping him—tonight or any other night.