Page 54 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

Somehow, the idea didn’t cheer her as much as it should. Not with the glorious few days when she’d expected to bask in his company coming to such an annoying and unsatisfactory end.

She slipped to the side of the ballroom, looking for Hart and Claire. And stopped short.

As if the prospects of enjoying her evening hadn’t diminished enough, prompted by Lady Routham, who gave him a little push before sending Emma a glittering smile, walking toward her was Lord Aldersby.

She cast a frantic glance around but saw no immediate chance of escape: she stood on the opposite side of the ballroom from the doors to the terrace, hemmed in by chatting groups of guests and with the ballroom wall behind her. Nothing to do but summon the best Society smile she could manage and hope to evade him as soon as possible.

Head thumping in earnest now, she waited with resignation for him to reach her.

‘Miss Wellingford! What a pleasure to see you. I didn’t know you were acquainted with Lady Telford.’

There’s a lot you don’t know, she thought, unwilling to offer any encouragement.

‘Such a beauty, Lady Telford! And so perfectly behaved, always a glittering ornament for her husband. He’s lucky to have secured her, but she was lucky, too, that he was free after she lost her husband.’

‘Indeed. I didn’t know you were acquainted, either.’ Or I would have left for London this morning, she added silently.

‘Though Telford is a friend from university, I didn’t initially plan on coming—until a little bird let me know who else was on the guest list. I’ve missed your company in Society, Miss Wellingford.’

‘I’ve had a charming sojourn in the country.’

‘I hope you’ve not been spending too much time in company…not worthy of you. I understand the man who succeeded dear Lady Telford’s first husband as duke is also a former army officer, like the new marquess. So uncouth and ill-prepared to take up the role, he quite dismayed the poor duchess when he first arrived! Army men,’ he sniffed. ‘None of them at ease in high position like those of us born to it.’

‘No, they were at ease commanding on a battlefield,’ she snapped. ‘Where the lives of other men depend on their skill.’

He shrugged. ‘The lives of soldiers, merely. The best of them offspring of farmers and clerks, some pulled straight from prisons. I suppose it takes a man with a certain uncouthness to command such rabble. Fortunately, her sister did most of the managing of the estate after the soldier’s arrival, sparing poor Lady Telford.’

‘How fortunate her sister was there to do the managing,’ she said acidly.

‘Ah, the musicians are tuning up. If this dance is not promised, allow me.’

There was no sign of Hart. Charles was buried somewhere in the mix of dancers, probably still on Lady Jersey’s arm. Before she could invent some excuse or simply walk away, Aldersby clamped a hand on her arm and moved her forcibly toward the floor.

Her patience, already worn thin, approached the snapping point. She promised herself she would escape by whatever excuse she could muster, probable or not, at the conclusion of the dance. She gritted her teeth when she saw Lady Routham dancing nearby, smiling sweetly when she saw what was doubtless a grim expression on Emma’s face. Making Emma wish she had forgot herself and delivered that lady some home truths about her dear departed uncle’s true character.

As soon as the music stopped, Emma yanked her hands free. ‘Excuse me, I must go to the ladies’ retiring room.’

To her surprise, though, he didn’t protest. ‘Of course. Every lady has her…needs.’

She stumbled away, trying to decide whether to in fact seek refuge in the retiring room or just escape up to her chamber, as it appeared her chances of getting any dance with Charles, much less a waltz, were non-existent. There was no one at the ball save Hart, if he should appear, that she really wished to dance with and probably no way to dance with him and avoid encountering Aldersby again.

As she halted, irresolute, before the door of the withdrawing room, a footman approached. ‘Miss Wellingford?’

‘Yes, what is it?’ she asked with a jolt of panic. She’d yet to see Claire. Had her daughter taken a turn for the worse?

With a bow, he handed her a note. Stepping back into the shadows of a curtained alcove for privacy, she opened it. Though the faint light made it somewhat difficult to read, she found to her surprise it was from Charles.

Difficult to get away from company in the ballroom, he’d scrawled. Meet me in the arbour? Must talk.

She blew out a breath. Though she couldn’t imagine what he needed to discuss that could not wait until later, now that she had half decided to retire from the ball and return to London tonight, she might not have another chance to speak with him.

It would make this frustrating day worth it to steal one more delicious kiss before she returned to town.

Evading footmen or maids who might question her, Emma slipped out the side entrance. Enveloped in a dark cloak to blend with the shadows, she crept along the far pathway towards the arbour.

What would Charles need to say? she wondered. Or was he only as frustrated as she was at their separation today, wanting to steal a few private minutes, impossible in the ballroom or refreshment room, before they must return to London from their too-short, too-abruptly-ended interlude?

Turning the corner, she entered the arbour and approached the centre. Her heart leaping, she picked up her pace as she spotted a tall figure waiting for her.