by Quinn, Ella
A few feet away from them, her sister said, “Meg, will you and Hawksworth join the set?”
“No, your brother is not fond of the minuet. He would rather waltz.”
“Only with you,” he replied. “Mayhap we should have a small ball of our own.”
Meg laughed. “So that you and I can waltz?”
“Other people may like to waltz as well,” he retorted.
“I regret I was not able to find time to plan the dancing party I had suggested.” She smiled at him.
Lady Sarah and Bellingham joined their group. “We could plan a ball as well,” she said.
“Then it is settled.” Meg smiled up at her husband. “We shall be able to waltz.”
“I would like to dance the waltz as well,” Laia murmured.
“As every lady should.” Guy grinned to himself. “I shall not wait to beg your hand for the first waltz we happen to come across.”
Regally, she inclined her head. “I should be delighted.”
Strains from the violins filtered through the air, and he held out his hand to her. “My dance, I believe.”
The smile on her face as she placed her hand in his could have lit the room. “It is, and my very first dance in public.”
He had not even thought about that. She must be worried. “We shall show them how the minuet is done.”
Her light laughter pleased him. He hoped she was not so nervous after all.
They took their places in the line. When the dance began, her steps were sure and light. Laia didn’t even falter when an older gentleman missed his step and almost ran into her. No concern showed as she righted the man and continued on as if nothing had occurred. It was as if she had been out for years.
Freed from worrying about her, he could notice the way her plump breasts rose slightly as she moved. Every once in a while, her skirts gave hints of a small waist and lush hips.
The minuet gave them time to flirt, but she was still figuring that part out. Her face glowed only with joy and happiness. That, however, would attract the other gentlemen like bees were attracted to flowers.
Pollinating. Thoughts of flaxen-haired children invaded Guy’s mind. What the devil was the matter with him? He hadn’t even decided if they would suit and some primitive part of him was already procreating with the lady.
He took her hand, and they twirled and skipped before resuming their places on the side while others performed the same act. The set was almost over when their gazes caught. He let out the breath he’d been holding as he’d stared into her light blue eyes and fell in love all at the same time.
His friends had been right. She was the perfect lady for him. Now all he had to do was convince her to jilt his uncle, defy her father, and marry him in less than a month.
Chapter 10
Before Guy even returned Laia to her brother and sister-in-law, gentlemen were queuing up to dance with her, and he could feel more behind him. He wanted to lead her right out of the door. If they’d been at a private ball, he would have been able to do just that.
He did not want to share her at all, but one more set would have to satisfy him. “Before all your sets are taken, I would like to dance the last set of the evening with you.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment he did not think she’d answer. “I would like that a great deal. I think we dance well together.”
As if they had been made for one another. “I think so as well.”
He left her with Hawksworth just as a young gentleman bowed to her. His shirt points were so high, Guy didn’t know how he could turn his head. The popinjay would most likely step all over her pretty feet. Perhaps Guy should remove the threat before the damage was done.
Laia cast an inquiring glance at him. For a moment he couldn’t figure out why. Damn, he was scowling. He needed to find something else to do until the dance when he could be with her again.
Or tea. He could escort her to tea.
Markham came up and stood beside Guy. “Most of them are a bunch of worthless fribbles, but harmless. Hawksworth will take care of any problems. I’m off to find something to drink and the card room.”
Hawksworth was the proper person to act on Laia’s behalf. If Guy did anything, it would cause talk. “You’re out of luck. Tea is not for more than another hour and there is nothing else on the premises.”
“It’s as bad as Almack’s,” the man grumbled.
“I don’t think the bread will be stale, and at least the tea is not weak.” Or that is what Guy had been told.
“That’s something, at any rate.” Markham cast a heated look in Lady Euphrosyne’s direction.
If his lordship’s feeling were reciprocated by the lady, Laia had been right to worry about her sister. One never knew what the Duke of Somerset had planned for his children. If he didn’t approve of Markham, it was either give up or go for the border. At least Guy had an easier road. Laia was almost twenty-one.
Thinking of that made him wonder when his uncle would make an appearance. It was not well done of him to leave Laia to her own—or rather Guy’s—devices before making time for his betrothed.
Guy had better think of his course of action, as well. Laia had been steadfast in her determination to wed Bolton. Guy didn’t think it was because she wanted to become a duchess. It was her sense of honor and duty to her family. Still, according to Hawksworth, she had not even been asked to agree with the match. That would change when she reached her majority and had to ratify the contracts.
One way or the other, Guy would have to find a way to convince her that, despite what her father wanted, she would be much better off with him.
He could think of only one way to accomplish that. Travel to London and procure a special license. Well, perhaps more than one. He would introduce Laia to Lady Engle.
Not at the Pump Room. The meeting must take place privately. Laia would be shocked at what she would hear, and he didn’t want word getting back to either duke that they had met. Meg and Hawksworth would help him get Laia and the older lady together. He’d speak to Meg tomorrow.
Meanwhile, he must keep busy. Cards did not appeal this evening. Dancing was the only option. It would also allow him to keep an eye on Laia. He didn’t recognize any ladies other than those in his own party, so he set off to find Mr. King to make introductions.
An hour or so later, Guy returned his partner to her mother, then made his way directly to Laia. A young man—callow youths appeared to abound in Bath—had just made his bow when Guy appropriated her arm. “Allow me to escort you to tea.”
“I was going to ask her.” The lad flushed angrily.
Guy lifted his quizzing glass, and slowly inspected the fribble from the top of his pomatumed head to his intricately tied cravat and his lavender knee breeches. “Indeed?” Guy drawled. “How unfortunate you are.”
Next to him, Laia’s hands covered her lips. She turned away, and her slender shoulders began to quake. The blasted woman was fighting a fit of giggles.
The youth took a step forward, and Guy’s arm shot out, stopping the young man. “Don’t make a cake of yourself. I am with her party.”
Stepping back, the youth bowed. “Thank you for the dance, my lady. I shall hope I may escort you at another time.”
“Well, done,” Hawksworth murmured to Guy as the lad stomped away.
Guy turned his attention to Laia. “You abominable girl. Are you laughing?”
She mopped her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “I could not help myself. I have heard about the use of a quizzing glass, but I have never had the opportunity to see how it is done.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “I was truly torn between embarrassment for Mr. Hardy and admiration for your style. Then I thought about my brothers, and it was all I could do to hold back my laughter. You see, I would dearly love to see the younger ones put in their places so neatly.”
Guy tucked her arm in his. “It does seem to be a rite of passage for a young man to be put in his place. I suppose we are all coxcombs when we are young and deali
ng with society for the first time.”
“I am quite sure that is true.” She nodded. “I think he will be better for the set-down.”
“At least his mother has the good sense to bring him to Bath instead of Town,” Meg said in a dry tone. “There is much less he can do to get into trouble here.”
Guy agreed with her. Allowing green young men to run wild was one of the more idiotic things he’d seen done. “More parents should consider the option.”
He kept Laia close to him as they maneuvered through the crowd. “Is your card full?”
“Yes. I am amazed at how many gentlemen wish to stand up with me.” Her voice was full of wonder.
Only she could be surprised at her success. “You should not be. You are as beautiful as you are graceful.”
A light blush painted her cheeks. “That is the nicest compliment anyone has given to me.”
“I shan’t say I am not given to flummery at times, but it is quite true. I have never had the pleasure of dancing with a lady who dances so elegantly. I am looking forward to our second dance.” He had discovered that the last dance was the Scottish figuree. At last, he’d be able to remain with her throughout the dance and even hold her in his arms.
“As am I.” She smiled. “My other partners have not been nearly as skilled as you are.”
He shot her a grin. “I’m glad to see we are in accord. We must dance together at every opportunity.”
“Indeed, we must.” She laughed and shook her head. "I shall be sorry to leave Bath. I’ve never had so much fun or been entertained so well.”
If it was up to him, no matter where she was, she would always have an excellent time. “Don’t despair yet. One never knows what life holds.”
Laia knew exactly what her life held. Marriage to a gentleman who had not even bothered to correspond with her or come to visit her. That did not bode well for their future. As curmudgeonly as her father could be, he always treated her mother well.
If he hadn’t been ready to depart for Scotland, he wouldn’t have allowed Mama to leave him for so long. Yet, for some reason no one could understand, she never managed to remain in Scotland for more than a week. Something always happened to one of the children. Mayhap that was the reason they were all here where she could watch out for them. It was almost the end of June and nothing had occurred. There were no broken bones, or fevers, or even an upset stomach.
The country dances began when they returned to the ballroom. Markham had joined them for tea, but disappeared again. A middle-aged gentleman came to claim her sister for the dance while a gentleman who looked to be past fifty bowed to Laia.
Did her betrothed look like his miniature?
One or two men about her brother’s age had approached, but took one look at Damon and veered off.
Sir Ralph was a good dancer. Unfortunately, the next gentleman had her skipping out of his way. Finally it was time for Mr. Paulet to claim her again.
He bowed elegantly then took her hand, placing it on his arm. “I am relieved this ends at eleven; otherwise, from the look of your sister-in-law, Hawksworth would be dragging you all home before time.”
“Meg has been stifling yawns for the past half hour, and he is watching her closely.”
“As he should.” Laia was certain that, when Mr. Paulet married, he would care for his wife’s wellbeing, and not just for the sake of the child.
Laia had danced a Scottish figuree before but her previous experiences had not at all prepared her to have Mr. Paulet’s arms around her. The rush of excitement and the frissons of pleasure caused by his touch distracted her to the point that she almost forgot where she was in the dance.
This was nothing at all like dancing with her brothers or the dancing master. Thank Heavens for her training.
During the next move, their eyes met, and she knew he had been as affected as she. Dear God, this was not supposed to happen. She could not become attached to another gentleman. Particularly one who was so closely related to her betrothed.
For the rest of the set, Laia attempted to steel herself against his touch, but she always found herself wanting to be near him. Did she have no resolve at all? The sooner the dance was over the better, but once it had ended, she missed his touch, and had to consciously keep a distance as they strolled back to her family.
If she could just stay away from Mr. Paulet—yet how could she when he was friends with her brother? She could do only one thing: go to Meg and tell her what had happened. She’d be able to advise Laia.
She and Mr. Paulet arrived at the family grouping to discover that Damon had already called for their chairs. He hurried them into the hall where the vehicles waited. Soon Laia was seated with Mr. Paulet walking beside her. Surely he could not wish to be attracted to her. Perhaps she should mention it. But what if she was wrong? After all, she had very little experience with men. She only knew that she had never felt this way around anyone else.
He chatted lightly about everything and nothing while she responded as her breeding required. Soon she began to relax. The answer to her problem was simple. She had simply not had enough contact with the world. She was, in fact, what her older brothers would call “green.” Mr. Paulet had most likely simply been flirting as gentlemen did. Ergo, the attraction was all on her side. And that would be easy enough to manage. No one need know anything about it.
In spite of her decision, Laia couldn’t sleep. No matter what she did, Mr. Paulet’s face and large, warm hands intruded into her dreams. She even pulled out the miniature of her betrothed and set it beside the bed so that she would dream of the duke instead. It didn’t work. She still saw, not strange-looking blue eyes, but laughing eyes that begged her to pay attention. Why eyes would want her to pay heed to them made no sense at all. She was being fanciful. She turned her pillow and tried to find a more comfortable place for her head. Eventually, she fell asleep.
By the time she woke, bright sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains. Laia was tempted to roll over and close her eyes, but her sister rushed into the room. “Laia, you would not believe the number of bouquets that are in the parlor and drawing room.”
She rubbed her eyes before pushing herself up. “Bouquets?”
Euphrosyne sat on the side of the bed. “Yes, and poetry. We have each received about the same number.” She pulled a face. “All of it horrible drivel, but just think of a gentleman making the gesture. They have been arriving for hours.”
Surely the morning could not be so far advanced that . . . “What time is it?”
“Almost nine. Breakfast is being brought up to you, so you must rise now.”
“Yes, of course.” Laia never slept this late. “Why didn’t my maid wake me?”
“Mama said to let you sleep.” Euphrosyne left the bed and headed to the door. “She also said we are to expect visits from the gentlemen later today during her visiting hours.”
I do not wish to see more gentlemen. I’m having enough trouble with two already.
“I should have stayed in bed.” Laia had a strong urge to pull the bedcovers over her again.
“You are still in bed,” her sister pointed out. “Mama expects you in the morning room in an hour.”
“An hour?” She groaned.
“Yes, and you will want to see the flowers and read some of the poetry.” Euphrosyne practically skipped out of the room.
Three quarters of an hour later, Laia made her way down the stairs and into the drawing room. Her sister had not exaggerated. Dozens of bouquets filled the room. There were probably no blooms left anywhere else in Bath.
As she gazed at the display, one bunch of red roses caught her attention. She reached for the card, but knew before she opened it who they were from.
Mr. Paulet.
* * *
To the most beautiful lady in Bath
My dear Lady Laia,
Thank you for the dances and conversation.
I beg you will allow me to call on you today.
Yr
devoted Servant,
G
* * *
Her heart began to beat faster and butterflies took up residence in her stomach. This short missive was much better than any poetry she could have received. It proved that Mr. Paulet felt as strongly for her as she did for him.
And that was . . . that was a disaster.
Tears started in her eyes. No matter how she felt about Mr. Paulet or him about her, she couldn’t marry him. Her father would be furious if she did not wed Bolton. Laia didn’t care so much for herself. She would be beyond his reach, but he would forbid her mother and younger sisters and brothers all contact with her. He’d lock her sisters up. Euphrosyne especially. If she had any chance at all of marrying Lord Markham, Laia refusing to marry Bolton and instead wedding his nephew would ruin it. In fact, Father might even insist Euphrosyne marry Bolton in Laia’s stead.
She could not do that to her sister.
As if called, Euphrosyne strolled into the room, going immediately to a bouquet of pink flowers. They would be from Markham. But this time Laia couldn’t fault her sister, not when Laia was forming an attachment for a gentleman after her father had already promised her to Bolton.
What a mull she had made of things.
“Markham has already written Father asking permission to marry me.”
Laia’s jaw dropped. She quickly shut it again. “That is wonderful.”
“Neither of us thinks he will allow us to wed.” Her sister’s round jaw firmed. “We might go to Scotland instead.”
She could not believe what she’d just heard. “Scotland?” Euphrosyne nodded. “You would risk a scandal?”
“We would be chaperoned by Sarah and Jeremy.”
Laia dropped into a chair. “But what about our sisters?”
“Father is never going to allow any of us to marry for love. What we do will not change that. How could he be harsher than he already is? We cannot go into the town alone, we cannot walk outside of the garden by ourselves. Even when we are in the garden we are watched.” Euphrosyne took Laia’s hands in hers. “If I could change any of that by marrying whom he chooses, I would. But, I cannot, and neither can you. All you will do is sacrifice yourself for nothing.”