by Sue Barr
She glanced up and saw a look of anger chase across Max’s handsome face. She couldn’t help herself, she blushed and stammered, “Th… thank you. I appreciate your concern for my well-being. You are a dear friend.”
“I am more than a friend, Miss Darcy.”
The look he gave her caused her stomach to flutter. If she were fanciful, she could almost believe he cared for her. And not as the sister of a good friend, but maybe something more. He led her to the head of the formation and they faced each other as the orchestra began playing the opening bars.
Not once did Maxwell remove his eyes from her face. They came together, touched hands briefly and parted one again, and his gaze never wavered. As they moved down the line, he had to watch his other partners, but did not emit the same intensity he’d given her.
Heat blossomed in her chest and at times she fought to keep a grin from escaping. The other dancers would think her deranged if she let go and laugh out loud. Dare she hope the Duke of Adborough held her in high enough regard to court her? Maybe his choice of vest color was deliberate and not something of chance.
She’d been led astray before by fanciful thoughts. This time she would proceed with caution and wait for him to declare his intentions. Too soon the dance was over and Max escorted her to where Fitz and Lizzie waited. Beside them stood the Marquis of Trevayne, her next dance partner. With a polite bow over her hand, Max left her staring after his broad shoulders as he cleaved through the crowd.
A soft hand at her elbow alerted her to the fact the Marquis was ready to lead her to the dance floor. With a smile, she let him guide her to the starting position. More than once, she caught the Marquis studying her. Rumors were rampant he was on the hunt for a bride and she idly wondered if he had considered courting her.
He was so very attractive and if she weren’t in love with Maxwell, her heart would be in danger around the handsome lord. The dance was lively and their conversation flowed as easily as a bubbling river. When the last chords of music faded away, and they’d bowed and curtsied, he led her to the refreshment table.
“May I speak openly with you, Miss Darcy?” Trevayne asked as he handed her a glass of punch.
“Please do.”
“I enjoy your company very much, however, I am not looking to take a bride, regardless of what you may have heard.”
“Oh, I’ve not…” she demurred.
“You are not one to lie easily, my dear. Do not start now.
She had the grace to blush.
“I tell you for two reasons. One, I enjoy your company and wish to dance without worrying if the woman expects a proposal the minute the set ends.”
“And the second reason?”
“You, my dear, love another man.”
Heat blazed across her cheeks and she clenched her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open. Had she been that obvious? Her eyes darted across the dance floor toward Lizzie. Had everyone seen how foolish she was? She needed to leave – now!
“Are you well?”
“No… I mean, yes… I don’t…”
“Take my arm.”
The Marquis held out his arm and led her towards the terrace. Once outside, he dropped his arm and she wrapped her arms around her midsection, not caring if she wrinkled her dress.
“I’m so…sorry for my discomposure,” she whispered and looked out toward the garden. Was her love for Max so obvious? How foolish everyone must think her, especially as he’d given her no cause to hope for a return of feelings.
“Miss Darcy.” The Marquis’ firm tone captured her attention and she turned her face to him. “I had no intention of ambushing you with this observation. In fact, I’m sure most of society has no idea you hold a certain Duke in such high regard. You are a lady in every sense of the word and have done nothing wrong.”
“Then why…? I mean, how…?” Her mind whirled like a child’s top and she couldn’t, for the life of her, find the words to so many questions she needed answers for.
“How did I see what others have missed?”
“Yes!”
“First, I will admit that when I first met you it did cross my mind that you would make a gracious Marchioness. My mother would find you lovely, my sisters would easily befriend you and my brothers would gnash their teeth in envy at my finding such a suitable woman.”
“Oh… Thank you.”
“However, because I paid more attention, I noticed you become more animated whenever a certain gentleman approached. Nothing ostentatious, mind you, but your eyes light up and the softest smile graces your beautiful face. When he is near, you are content.”
“You are very observant, my Lord.”
“It also has not escaped my notice that he is quietly exerting his influence as well.”
“In what way, if I may be so bold to ask.”
“I think you know. Lately the two of you have been… well-matched?”
She bit back a small gasp. Maybe her intuition that Max had paired his outfit to match hers was not as crazy as she thought. The Marquis offered her his elbow and they moved back into the ballroom, toward Fitz and Lizzy. A few feet from her brother and sister, the Marquis murmured, “There is another who watches you even more closely than I.”
“Who would that be?”
“Normally, I wouldn’t share the name of a would-be suitor, but I’ve heard disturbing things about this gentleman and I wish you to remain cautious of him.”
“Now I truly must know the gentleman’s name, unless it is the Prince Regent. I would never say no to dancing with him.”
“You are a delight, Miss Darcy. No, it is not Prinny who has you in his sights, thank the good Lord for that, but it is Sir Reginald Slade. Be on your guard.”
They had reached her family and with a gallant bow over her hand, the Marquis said farewell and melted into the crowd.
“Did you enjoy your dance with the Marquis, Georgiana?” Lizzy asked, her eyes bright with amusement. “The two of you were in deep conversation. I’m sure everyone saw how well he regards you.”
Georgiana faced Lizzy and smiled. “He is a kind and gentle man. Some lady will be very lucky to be his wife, but that woman will not be me.”
“Did he ask to court you, Georgiana?” Fitz asked, his voice deep with concern.
“No, brother, he did not, but that does not mean we did not have a meaningful conversation and I am very sure he and I will be good friends.”
“Miss Darcy, I believe this is our dance.”
She turned to face the Earl of Litchfield. “My Lord, I believe you are correct.”
Chapter Six
Max strode to the outer edges of the dance floor, trying hard not to look anyone in the eye. He had no desire to speak with a soul before he recovered his composure and paced to the end of the hall. He slipped into a small alcove which overlooked the entire ball room and watched as Georgiana took the floor with Trevayne. A sharp pain stabbed through his heart at the sight of her in the arms of a man who was not her family.
He did not regret his dance with Georgiana, even though his name was nowhere on her dance card. Why? Why did he not leave her alone?
Because Slade is a snake in the grass and I cannot stand the thought of him touching her.
He quietly acknowledged he was annoyed by several things, one of them being too many eligible men swanning about Miss Darcy. He tried to find fault with them, but none had any egregious bad marks against their character. Other than the fact they breathe, he silently groused.
The dance ended and instead of escorting her back to her family, the Marquis accompanied Georgiana to the refreshment table. Was that a blush on her cheeks? What poetic nonsense was Trevayne spouting? Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open and all color fled from her face. Had Trevayne just proposed as she held a glass of lemonade? She looked as though she might cast up her accounts any moment. Trevayne escorted a visibly shaken Georgiana through the terrace doors. Blast and damnation, he couldn’t see them through the panes of glass. Dare he int
ervene? Could he intervene if she had accepted an offer of marriage?
They’re not yet at the altar.
He still had hope.
An eternity later the couple came back inside and Max released his breath.
“What has you so entranced, Adborough?”
“What?” Max turned to see Ash standing beside him.
“I’ve called your name several times, but you were intent on something, or someone in the ball room.”
Max fumbled for a response. It wouldn’t do to blurt the truth to Miss Darcy’s cousin. I’m sorry I missed your approach. I was debating whether to run Trevayne through with a sword and then carry off your cousin, or to have a glass of wine. Quite the dilemma, don’t you agree?
No, he would error on the side of caution and lie through his teeth.
“Sorry about that. I was debating the merits of Lady Dalrymple’s watered-down wine against her equally insipid lemonade.”
“Really,” came the dry observation, accompanied by an arched eyebrow which told Max that Ash did not believe him for one minute.
“Why are you here, hiding in a darkened corner? I thought for sure you’d remain at the card tables until every young miss of marriageable age had given up hope and gone home.”
“I had to leave.” Ash gazed out over the ballroom, his lip twisting into a lopsided grin. “If I had to listen to the mindless chatter of Lord Ramsey and Lord Fosscroft about their bad knees and gout for one more minute, my right eyeball would pop out and roll onto the table. Could you imagine the gossip?”
Max couldn’t help it, he laughed out loud. A few matronly chaperones along the wall turned and peered intently into the darkened alcove, trying to see who lurked in the shadows. He and Ash simultaneously moved out of their line of sight into the hall.
“More to point, what would your fellow card sharks say?” Max asked.
“His eye popped out, right out onto the table. Made for a dreadful mess, we had to locate a new pack of cards.” Ash’s grin widened. “Fosscroft, poor sod, wouldn’t know what to do. Without his wife nattering in his ear, he’d forget to put one foot in front of the other while walking.”
“That’s a bit harsh, even from you.”
“Forgive me, Adborough. I’m feeling a tad testy. Mother is determined to see me and Richard marry. More to the point, see me marry and bring on the requisite heir.” Ash gave Max a considered glance. “How do you deal with your mother? Surely with two of her three boys settled she’s anxious for the Dukedom to be secure.”
“She’s hinted here and there, but for the most part keeps her counsel. I’ve not had to hide at balls or take my meals at White’s to avoid her, unlike a certain Viscount.”
“That will all change.” Ash pushed away from the wall he’d leaned against. “The Season has just begun and as the heat rises, so will all the mama’s expectations for their daughters. Mark my words, your mother will corner you, and soon.”
“I’m surprised there’s not a wager on that very thing at White’s.”
“I’ve already got ten pounds on you to marry before Michaelmas.”
If things go my way, you’ll win that ten pounds.
Max couldn’t help but quip, “I can’t believe my marital status is of any interest to anyone.”
“You have one of the richest Duchies in England. Everyone wants to know who you will marry.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, you conceited puss. Everyone.” The Viscount gave him a small farewell salute. “I’ll see if I can’t start some salacious rumor.”
“Uncalled for, Ash,” Max grumbled as the Viscount wandered off.
About to return to the ballroom, his mother’s voice stopped him.
“There you are.”
Max turned to see the Duchess advance toward him.
“Mother, you look lovely as always.”
She offered her cheek and he gave her a light kiss.
“I hadn’t seen you come into the ball room and had to be told by others that my son was dancing,” she gently chastised.
“My apologies. Almost as soon as I arrived, I noticed Miss Darcy being harangued by Sir Reginald. I whisked her onto the dance floor before he could press upon her further.”
“George told me briefly about his circumstances and Lucinda filled me in on the rest. You are a good friend to the Darcy family.” Max acknowledged her praise with a nod. “Have you decided who you will dance with next?”
“I haven’t even had time to greet my host and hostess. Dancing will come later.”
“You are not getting any younger, Maxwell, and the only way you will find someone is to actually go up to them and begin a conversation.”
He gave a small start at the idea of his mother querying his marital aspirations so soon after his conversation with Ash.
“Mother, I am barely one and thirty, hardly in the grave!”
“Not that I wish to bandy my age about, Maxwell, but I wish to have a grandchild before I reach the age of fifty. You and your brothers have but three years to grant me my wish.”
“I am sure my siblings shall accommodate you within the year.”
Mother sniffed elegantly. “Only because they have acquired a wife, which you seem reluctant to follow suit.”
“I have yet to meet a woman I wish to spend my life with,” he said smoothly. “I want the same felicity and joy you and Father had.”
“I must point out that our joy began when your father asked me to dance. Maybe you should follow in his light-as-air footsteps and seek to do the same.”
“I will do my very best.” He leaned in and kissed his mother’s cheek again before whispering, “Beyond that I cannot promise more.”
“You do that or I shall make a list and find you a wife myself.” His mother took her closed fan and tapped him on the arm. “I am determined to see you well married by the end of this Season.”
“I’m leaving now, Mother.”
“You are lucky I love you as you are.” She smiled at him. “Come and sit with me after the supper set.”
“You know I will.”
As it was, Max had to leave the ball a few minutes before midnight.
“Harold,” he exclaimed upon seeing one of his footmen approaching. “Why are you here, of all places?”
“Pardon me, Your Grace, Mr. Benson sent me with an urgent message for you to return to Kerr House.”
“Did he say why?”
“No, Your Grace, but I do know he received an express from Adborough Hall.”
“Very well. Tell Benson I shall return immediately.” Max didn’t hesitate in this decision. Benson was an extremely reliable butler and would have interrupted his evening only for the most extenuating of circumstance. “First, I must find my host and bid her goodnight and then let the Duchess know I am leaving.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Harold bowed properly and turned to leave.
Max searched the crowd for Lady Dalrymple and upon sighting her, cleaved his way through the crowd.
“Ah, Your Grace, you are a sight for sore eyes.” Lady Dalrymple held out both her hands, which Max took possession of and bowed over them giving a light squeeze before dropping them. He’d known her all his life and loved her like a family member. As always, she blushed slightly at the safe, yet flirtatious move. “You look perplexed, my boy. Are you not enjoying yourself?”
“I am, but sadly I must take my leave.”
“So soon? The clock has yet to strike midnight and the night is still young. Many young lady’s hearts will break when your handsome face no longer graces my ballroom. I know my cousin Miss Elizabeth Elliot was hoping for an introduction. She and her father, Sir Walter, arrived only this afternoon from Bath.”
“Urgent business calls me away. The introduction to Miss Elliot will have to wait for another time.” He executed a polite bow. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“I’ll forgive you this time, young Adborough, and only because I adore your mother.”
He smiled.
“You have excellent taste in friends, Lady Dalrymple. I bid adieu.”
The next few minutes were spent checking the various nook and crannies his mother liked to occupy at these types of gatherings, finally locating her in a retiring salon. Quickly, he related all that he knew and requested she pass the information along to their friends. He regretted not saying his own proper good-byes, but Mr. Mason was not one to send word if the situation wasn’t calamitous in nature. He donned his cloak and stepped into the inky night, wishing once more he was back in the ballroom with Georgiana on his arm.
~~~~~
Georgiana pulled a brush through her hair and stared at the mirror without seeing her reflection. All her thoughts were consumed with her dance with Max, followed by her dance with the Marquis and subsequent conversation. Sadly, the empty slot on her dance card, the one she’d saved for a handsome Duke had been filled by her cousin, Ash.
The Marquis’ observation of how Max’s vest matched her dress sent a secret thrill though her body. It hadn’t been her imagination. Her heart sped up at the thought and a light blush danced across her cheeks. If the Marquis noticed, had anyone else? And if true, why wouldn’t Max declare himself and at least propose a courtship.
She put down the brush and blew out a soft breath. It was so frustrating to be a female, always waiting for the man to take the lead, or make a move. If she were more forward, she would have declared herself three years ago.
Anna, her lady’s maid, bustled into the room. She picked up Georgiana’s ball gown and gave it a slight shake. “Not too wrinkled, Miss Darcy. Did you have a nice time? You came home so much earlier than I expected.”
“I did have a lovely time,” Georgiana said with a slight smile, not willing to confide that after Max left the ball all things previously beautiful lost its lustre. When Lizzy mentioned she was feeling tired, Georgiana readily agreed to leave. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight.”
“Would you like a nice cup of hot milk?”
“That would be just the thing.”
“Right then,” Anna draped the ball gown over her shoulder and opened the bedroom door. “I’ll put this away first, and then pop on down to the kitchen.”