by Mary Balogh
She stared at him and fanned her face harder.
“You cannot be serious,” she said. “Elliott, she is an absolute fright! She is a joke!”
“She is my wife,” he said firmly. “I will bid you a good evening, Anna. There is something I need to attend to.”
He strode off in the direction of the card room but turned at the last moment to make off for the library instead. He needed a few moments alone before returning to his guests.
He ought, he supposed, to have made himself clearer during his last visit with Anna. They had been together for all of two years before that. She had deserved better of him. She had deserved a face-to-face termination of their affair.
But Con—Con had done this deliberately Which was fair enough, perhaps, if his only motive had been to annoy Elliott. But it was not fair to risk involving Vanessa. And to insult his own aunt and cousins by bringing sordidness into Elliott’s home.
Anna had disappeared by the time he returned to the ballroom ten or fifteen minutes after leaving it. She had not danced at all.
It was to be hoped that now all was over between them.
Though he did wonder if perhaps he owed her a formal visit within the next few days. She had never done anything to deserve shabby treatment—except perhaps last evening and tonight.
Vanessa was enjoying herself very much indeed. She had danced every set, which was extremely gratifying considering the fact that she was a married lady and was surrounded by numerous other ladies who were younger or lovelier than she was.
More important, Meg and Kate had danced every set too. So had Stephen. And Cecily, of course—once with Stephen—though that was no surprise. The girl was both young and lovely and this was her come-out ball. She had also been brought up to just such a life as this. She was attracting a great deal of male attention, and she was holding court as if she had been doing so forever.
And now one of the two waltzes that had been planned for the evening was coming up. The dowager had decided to include them in the evening’s program despite the fact that Cecily would not be allowed to dance either since young ladies needed the approval of one of the patronesses of Almack’s before waltzing at a public ball. Kate ought not to dance it either, it had been decided in advance, though it would be quite unexceptionable for Meg as an older lady to waltz if she wished—and if she was asked. As it would for Vanessa, of course.
Vanessa and Cecily had been giving lessons to Meg, Kate, and Stephen, though it would perhaps be more accurate to say that Cecily had taught Stephen while Vanessa had concentrated upon her sisters.
No less a person than the Marquess of Allingham had solicited Meg’s hand for the dance. It was really very gratifying even if he was half a head shorter than she. Cecily and Kate were part of an animated group of very young people who would amuse themselves while their elders danced.
Vanessa hoped someone would ask her to waltz. Though most of all, of course, she hoped—
“Ma’am,” someone said from behind her shoulder with stiff formality, “may I hope that I am not too late to be granted the honor of leading you into the waltz.”
She turned her head and smiled brightly, happier than she had been all day.
“You are not too late, sir,” she said. “I will indeed waltz with you.”
She set her hand on his sleeve.
“Oh, Elliott,” she said, “is this not the most wonderful evening ever?”
“Probably,” he said as he led her onto the floor, “if I were to give the matter deep thought I would remember another evening or two that were equally wonderful. But certainly not more so.”
“You always say something like that.” She laughed. “I have only recently learned the steps. I hope I do not trip all over my feet. Or, worse, yours.”
“We both know you weigh a ton,” he said. “I would be doomed to walk around with flattened toes for the rest of my life.”
“Halfa ton,” she said. “You must not exaggerate.”
“But if I were to allow you to trip over my feet,” he said, “I would have to judge myself a clumsy oaf and go home and shoot myself.”
“You are home,” she reminded him.
“Ah,” he said. “So I am. I am reprieved, then.”
It was one of the happier surprises of her marriage to find that she could talk nonsense to Elliott and he would talk it right back.
“Are you still angry at Constantine’s coming and bringing Mrs. Bromley-Hayes with him?” she asked. “He explained about her reputation, which I daresay you are aware of. But I was happy to see you talking with the lady, Elliott. That was kind of you. She left very early. I hope she did not feel unwelcome.”
“Let us not talk of the lady or Con, shall we?” he said. “Let us enjoy the waltz instead.”
“I hope,” she said, “I do not—”
But he leaned so close to her as he set one hand behind her waist and took her hand with the other that she thought for one startled moment that he was going to kiss her right there in the middle of his own ballroom with surely half the ton looking on.
“You will not make a cake of yourself,” he told her. “Trust me. And trust yourself.”
She smiled.
“I believe,” he said, “I told you earlier that you look pretty I was mistaken.”
“Oh,” she said.
“You do not look pretty,” he said. “You look beautiful.”
“Oh,” she said again.
And then the music began.
She had loved the waltz from the moment she began learning it. She had thought it daring and romantic and graceful and … Oh, and a whole host of other things.
But she had never waltzed at a real ball until now.
And she had never waltzed with Elliott until now.
She had never before waltzed among flowers and perfumes and the myriad colors of the silks and satins and muslins and lace of dozens of guests or among the sparkle of jewels in candlelight or the glow of the candles themselves. She had never before waltzed to the music of a full orchestra.
She had never before waltzed with the man she loved.
For of course she was more than just in love with Elliott.
He led her into the steps of the waltz and she instantly forgot her fears of bungling them and making an idiot of herself.
She forgot that she was not really beautiful, that he did not really love her. She waltzed and it seemed to her—or would have if she had paused for conscious thought—that she had never enjoyed anything more in her whole life.
She kept her eyes on her husband’s face—dark-complexioned, classically handsome, blue-eyed—and smiled at him. And he looked back at her, his eyes roaming over her features.
She felt beautiful.
She felt cherished.
And she felt all the splendor of her surroundings as they swung about her in loops of light and color—and saw only Elliott.
She smiled more dazzlingly.
And finally, at last, oh, at last, his eyes smiled into hers and his lips curved upward ever so slightly at the corners.
It was surely the happiest moment of her life.
“Oh,” she said when it was obvious the music was coming to an end—and she realized it was the first sound either of them had uttered since the waltz began. “Is it over so soon?”
“It is,” he said. “I forgot to give the orchestra leader instructions to keep on playing forever.”
She laughed into his eyes, where the smile lingered.
“How remiss of you,” she said.
“Yes.”
It was time for supper, and they were forced to separate in order to mingle with their guests.
But Vanessa would remember this evening, she thought, as one of the most memorable occasions of her life. Even apart from its other attractions, it was the evening during which she had fallen all the way in love with Elliott—so deeply, in fact, that there could no longer be any distinction between being in love with him and loving him with all her being and f
or all time.
She spared a regretful thought for Hedley and then nudged it gently away.
That was then.
This was now.
And now was a very good time in which to be living.
20
VANESSA walked over to Merton House on Berkeley Square the following afternoon to call upon her sisters. They were both at home, though Stephen was out. He had gone with Constantine to look at sporting curricles, though in Margaret’s opinion he was far too young to be thinking of tooling around in such an impractical and potentially dangerous vehicle.
“I do fear,” she said as they all took a seat in the drawing room, “that he might turn into a wild young man. He is vastly impressed with London and everyone he has met here so far. And the trouble is that everyone is impressed with him too, even gentlemen several years older than he is. They will lead him astray if they can.”
“He is merely fluttering his wings, Meg,” Katherine assured her. “He has not even spread them yet. But it is inevitable that he will. We must trust that he has a steady enough character that he will not turn irresponsibly wild.”
“I have to agree with Kate,” Vanessa said. “Stephen must be allowed to be a young gentleman just like every other, Meg, and find his own way to being the person he wishes to be.”
“Oh, I suppose you are both right,” Margaret conceded with a sigh. “Indeed, I know you are. It is just that he is still so very young. He is too young to be here, where there are so many distractions and temptations.”
“If it is any consolation,” Vanessa said, “Elliott takes his responsibility to our brother very seriously. He will keep a careful eye on him in that male world into which we cannot intrude. And it is into that world that he has retreated himself this morning, wise man. The conversation at breakfast was of nothing but balls and beaux and conquests. Cecily has received no fewer than five bouquets from gentlemen with whom she danced. She has declared herself an unqualified success, and we have all agreed with her.”
“And you thought to escape by coming here?” Katherine said. “Have you looked about you, Nessie?”
Vanessa did so now and laughed. Meg had always kept the house full of flowers in season, but never with so many lavish bouquets as adorned the room today.
“More success?” she said. “And more beaux?”
“Singular in my case,” Margaret said. “The white roses are mine. The Marquess of Allingham was kind enough to send them. All the other bouquets are Kate’s—four of them.”
“I was never more surprised in my life,” Katherine said. “I felt like a country cousin last evening despite all my finery This is all quite absurd.”
“Not at all,” Vanessa said. “Both of you were more lovely than anyone else last evening and attracted a great deal of interest.”
“Because of Stephen,” Margaret said.
“Well, yes,” Vanessa conceded. “Without Stephen we would all be back in Throckbridge living our old lives. But even there you both had more than your fair share of admirers. Enough of such talk, though. It is a lovely day. Shall we go for a walk in the park?”
It was a welcome suggestion to two country ladies. And Hyde Park was large enough to seem like a good chunk of the countryside dropped right into the middle of busy London.
They strolled along some of the quieter paths there, avoiding the crush of riders and carriages and strollers in the more fashionable area.
“The Marquess of Allingham has invited Meg to drive here with him tomorrow afternoon,” Katherine said.
“Has he?” Vanessa looked at her elder sister, impressed. “And have you agreed to come here with him, Meg?”
“I have,” she said. “It was obliging of him to ask. He is a widower, you know.”
“And you, Kate?” Vanessa asked, smiling. “Did you meet anyone special at the ball last evening?”
“Everyone was special,” Katherine said predictably “I had a truly lovely time. But is it not wonderful to be walking here in the quiet of the park and breathing in the smells of grass and trees? I miss Warren Hall. And I do miss Throckbridge so very much.”
“We will grow accustomed to this new life,” Vanessa said. “And there will be so much to do over the next few months and so many new things to see and experience that there will scarcely be a moment in which to fret and feel homesick.”
“Constantine is going to take me to the Tower of London later this week,” Katherine said, “and anywhere else I wish to go. I like him exceedingly. I wish we had known him all our lives. I wish we had known Jonathan.”
“Yes,” Margaret and Vanessa both agreed.
They strolled onward, not talking all the time. They were all familiar enough with one another that they could be perfectly comfortable with silence, especially when there were the beauties of nature to enjoy.
Vanessa continued to relive yesterday—her presentation at court, the ball, her waltz with Elliott. The night with him.
It surely would be quite impossible to be happier than she had been then and was now today, she thought. She had danced only once with Elliott last evening, but it had been enough.
She would always remember their first waltz together.
And exhausted as they both ought to have been after such a busy day, they had made love over and over again through the night.
She was really quite tired today But sometimes tiredness itself could be almost pleasurable.
She was three days late with her courses. Only three days. She must not hope too strongly But even so, she was usually very regular.
But she did hope … Oh, she hoped.
Finally their route brought them close to the busy part of the park, the area where the whole of the fashionable world promenaded each afternoon.
The Marquess of Allingham was the first to stop to pay his respects to them. He was alone in a high-perch phaeton.
“Lady Lyngate, Miss Huxtable, Miss Katherine,” he said, touching the brim of his tall hat with his whip. “How do you do?”
They assured him that they were doing very well indeed and Margaret thanked him for his flowers.
“Word has it,” he said, “that there is a chance of rain tomorrow”
“Oh,” Margaret said, “that would be a disappointment, my lord.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “if your sisters can spare you, Miss Huxtable, you would care to take a turn with me now this afternoon. I will return you safely to your own door within the hour.”
Margaret looked inquiringly at her sisters.
“But of course you must go, Meg,” Vanessa said. “I will walk home with Kate.”
The marquess descended from his perch and handed Margaret up to the high seat beside his own.
“I am glad,” Vanessa said as she and Katherine watched them drive away, “that she is willing to enjoy the company of someone else.”
“Someone else?” Katherine asked.
“Other than Crispin Dew,” Vanessa said. “She has loved him all her life, you know She would not marry him when he asked because of us. But they had an understanding when he went away.”
“Nessie!” Katherine cried, clearly stricken. “And he has just married a Spanish lady. Oh, poor Meg! I really had no idea. And to think that when we heard the news at Warren Hall, I teased her about being a little sweet on him when she was a girl. How that must have hurt!”
“You cannot be blamed. Meg never was one to talk about herself or to display her feelings for all to see,” Vanessa said. “I believe I was her only confidante as a girl, though now she does not confide her deepest feelings even in me. I will be happy if she finds someone else to love this Season or next.”
“Perhaps the marquess?” Katherine said. “He is not terribly handsome, is he, but he seems amiable enough. And he can be no more than ten years older than Meg.”
“And he is a marquess,” Vanessa said, smiling. “How blasé we are becoming about such things already.”
“He is not a prince, though,” Katherine said, and they bot
h laughed and walked on.
Cecily was out walking with a group of young ladies, their maids trailing along some distance behind. They stopped to talk with a couple of young gentlemen on horseback as Vanessa and Katherine approached— Vanessa recognized them from last night’s ball. Greetings were being exchanged with much merry laughter.
Cecily smiled brightly at them and invited them to join her group.
“We are going to walk down to the Serpentine,” she explained.
“Oh, I would love to see the water,” Katherine said.
Vanessa would too—but preferably not in company with such an exuberant crowd of young ladies. She must be getting old, she decided ruefully.
“You go,” she urged Katherine. “I must be getting home anyway Perhaps Elliott will be there. Cecily and her maid will surely accompany you home.”
“But of course we will,” Cecily said. “I wish you had brought your brother with you.”
“Yes, indeed,” one of the other young ladies said. “He is quite divine. Those curls!”
There was a flurry of giggles.
Vanessa watched them go on their way But she was now without either companions or a maid and must not dawdle. Perhaps she would lie down for an hour when she got home and catch up on some of the sleep she had missed for the last two nights. Unless Elliott had come home, of course. And then perhaps …
She quickened her pace.
Three ladies were approaching in an open barouche, all of them with bonnets or hats that were extremely fashionable. Vanessa looked admiringly at them until the lady who sat with her back to the horses turned her head, and Vanessa saw that she was Mrs. Bromley-Hayes.
The lady saw her at the same moment, and they smiled warmly at each other.
“Oh, do stop,” Mrs. Bromley-Hayes called to the coachman as the barouche drew abreast of Vanessa. “Lady Lyngate! The very person I have been hoping to see today I must thank you for being so gracious last evening. It was a splendid ball, was it not? I would have stayed longer if I had not had another engagement elsewhere.”
“Oh,” Vanessa said, “I am so glad to hear that. I hoped you did not feel unwelcome. It was an unfortunate oversight that your invitation was not sent out.”