In one such cluster, the motion of a fan fluttering caught his eye. He halted to analyze it. The fan had an ivory-carved spine and slats, with the semi-circular surface painted in pink and decorated with the branch of a cherry blossom tree.
Attractive enough, but what about the lady holding it?
More fluttering and a gathering of revelers seated around the lady obscured his view. The short hairs on his neck rose again, and this time he listened to his intuition.
He moved so he could have a better view.
The woman talked with a would-be gallant. Her eyes, green and saucy, laughed at her swain's inanities. Her hair, so light it was almost white, was arranged in a mass of curls and ornamented with fresh daisies.
As her laughter increased, she lifted her chin, exposing the long line of her delicate throat. His gaze traveled the length of skin down to the low neckline of her gown. He feasted on the sight of her creamy bosom slightly bulging out from the satin bodice.
She was magnificent. She was Miss Galloway. She was also his page, Danny.
Edward swallowed a lump of desire. He now knew that this was the woman he wanted as his wife.
* * * *
"Miss Galloway, I presume?"
On hearing her name, Danielle looked up. Her heart stopped—or dropped. It was him, Edward, looking elegantly handsome in black. The silver buttons on his tailcoat glittered as much as his dark brown eyes. Those eyes seemed to say one thing while his mouth said another. His mouth was pulled down into a terrible frown.
She had to moisten her lips in order to speak. “Yes?"
His eyes captured her, pinned her to her chair. Then he slid his gaze downward to her décolletage. She felt herself flush. Perhaps the neckline was a bit too revealing.
He lifted his eyebrow. “May I have a word with you?"
Her newfound acquaintance, Mr. VanGump, protested, but she ignored the man, and stood. It was time to face the music—pay the piper—take her punishment.
Without speaking, they walked out of the Tea Room, which was a good thing if he really did want a word with her. Because of the rest interval, the ballroom dancers all flocked to refreshment tables to restore themselves. The volume of noise increased threefold.
A thousand questions sprung to her lips, but the stern expression on Edward's face forestalled her. What was passing through his mind? Did he despise her? Did he even recognize her as Danny?
She could no longer stand the silence between them. They arrived at the far wall of the ballroom which was empty for the moment. This was as good a place as any to bare her soul. The magnificent gilt-framed looking glass on the wall reflected their somber expressions back at them.
She inhaled deeply and just as she was about to speak, Edward beat her to it. “Have you no questions for me about your brother?"
So he did recognize her. She sighed. Again, just like Millicent, Danielle fiddled with her gloves. Instead of removing them however, she twisted the cloth at the fingers. “You must believe me, my lord; I never meant to deceive you. Not in that fashion."
"What fashion was it then, Danny? Or rather, Danielle.” His voice softened; its tone almost caressed her. His lips pursed as if wanting to kiss her.
Danielle, you fool! she chided. You're imagining this. You're living in a dream world.
To snap herself out of her reverie, she pinched skin on the inside of her arm to help steady her nerves. “Sir, I left Leeds because I only wanted to check on Benjamin. My father would not allow the trip. I-I took matters into my own hands by concocting this scheme. It-It seemed safe enough."
The frown on his face overpowered all other features. He looked like thunder, and sounded like it too. “When was it safe? Back in Heptonstall when you were used as a punching bag?"
When he turned away from her, her heart nearly broke in two. Unwanted tears welled in her eyes. He was right; she had been unconscionably foolish.
"Of all the ramshackle actions,” he continued. Raking his hand through his wondrously thick hair, he shook his head. “You have no idea of the damage—"
They both heard footsteps. Lady Yancy hurried down the nearly vacant room with a speed surely unheard of for a peeress of the realm. Had any guests dared to bar her path, she would've trampled them.
She waved her handkerchief as she approached. “There you are. There you are. Lord Tremaine, I have been looking everywhere for you."
Before he had a chance to reply, Lady Yancy inhaled deeply. “Shame on you, sir. Fie on you. You have compromised my dear friend's daughter."
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Chapter Twelve
"Good God! Lower your voice, woman.” Edward brooked no nonsense from Lady Yancy, whether she was his elder or not. In truth, she did not appear but a few years older than his seven and thirty.
Most likely the woman was not accustomed to being addressed in that cavalier fashion for she stared at him with her mouth agape.
Danny—Danielle, on the other hand, blushed furiously, and averted her gaze to the floor.
Edward quickly looked around. Fortunately, this section of the ballroom remained completely free of partygoers. In all likelihood, Lady Yancy's voice had not penetrated to the far end where guests still loitered about.
The woman regained her wits. “Sir, I will not be spoken to in such an ungentlemanlike way."
He glanced at Danny. No longer looking at the floor, she stood like a soldier, waiting to get his ... or her reprimand.
This girl is pluck to the backbone.
Edward withheld his smile. Instead, he lifted his eyebrow in what he hoped was his most intimidating manner, and addressed the offending banshee. “Madam, since you chose to announce your accusation to all and sundry, I had every justification to speak in whatever way I deemed necessary. You do a disservice to this young woman's reputation."
Lady Yancy had the presence of mind to redden.
He glanced again at Danny. What was she thinking? Other than a paled complexion, she showed no outward sign that anything was amiss.
Most unusual.
Lady Yancy rallied again. “Sir, I am here to preserve Miss Galloway's reputation. I look on her as my ward, as it were, to protect her interests since her mother cannot."
The large single feather in her turban fluttered with the sharp movements of her head. She narrowed her gaze, glared at him, and stamped her foot. “You must offer marriage. You have been alone in Miss Galloway's company ... in a bedchamber together!"
Damnation. Of all the blasted luck to have this woman blather about this situation now. Before he had a chance to talk with Danny. To tell her of his feelings for her. Of his love. Of the encumbrance on his estate engineered by the late Earl to ensure Edward married.
"Well?” the harpy demanded.
Danny spoke first. “Lord Tremaine did nothing wrong, my lady. Indeed, he saved me from my folly a thousand times over.” Her green eyes flashed. “He is blameless. No matter the consequences, I shall not be party to a forced marriage with this kind man."
Edward groaned. There was that word once again. He took in Danny's drawn eyebrows, tense mouth, and fisted hands. Blast. This confrontation was precisely what he had hoped to avoid.
He turned his attention back to Lady Yancy. “First, my lady, let me say it is not up to you to decide Miss Galloway's fate. Sir Ambrose is the arbiter of her affairs. Once I was certain of her identity, I dispatched a letter to the baronet."
Danny turned those lovely orbs on him and gasped.
He rushed to erase her worry. “I mentioned about you being in Bath, no more, no less."
When she visibly relaxed, he continued, focusing his gaze on the older woman. “I posted the letter last night. To ensure the fastest delivery, I made certain the messenger would travel on the speediest horses ‘round the clock. If fortune smiles on us, the letter should have arrived in Leeds tonight."
The rest interval must have been over. Guests spilled like a plague into the ballroom. He lowered his voice further. “Second, I reques
ted Sir Ambrose's presence in Bath as soon as humanly possible. I also requested an interview with him concerning his daughter."
Ladies with their gentlemen started strolling toward the far corner of the ballroom. Edward quickened his words. He had to put Danny's mind at ease. “I shall, of course, ask for Miss Galloway's hand."
Darting his gaze back to Danny, he hoped his eyes conveyed the depth of his devotion. His desire. His love—
"No.” Danny looked him squarely in the eye. No emotion showed on her delicate face. “I am excessively obliged for your very generous offer, sir, but I have no decided partiality for you."
He stared back at her, speechless.
Amidst Lady Yancy's mouth flapping and the string quartet's stirrings to begin another set, Danny murmured, “I beg your pardon.” Lifting up the edges of her white satin gown, she sailed out of the ballroom ... and his life.
Edward shook his head. No, not his life. He would fight for this woman. Whether she wanted him or not.
* * * *
How she didn't collapse right then and there, and dissolve into tears, Danielle didn't know. Some inner purpose, inner resolve propelled her through the ballroom doors and into the cloakroom by the front entrance. It was quite deserted since no guest would be admitted this late in the evening's entertainment, and evidently no one thought to leave before the mandatory hour of eleven.
Danielle leaned against the cloakroom wall, overwhelmed by despair. She had lied most dreadfully; she did have a decided partiality for Edward Sterling. She loved him—completely, with all her heart. When exactly her admiration for him turned to love, she didn't know. But seeing him in the Tea Room; walking by his side as she waited for him to take her to task for her stupidity; observing a faint gleam in his eyes that might, just might indicate his appreciation of her female form....
And then this. Edward was now trapped into offering marriage.
Tears threatened to cascade down her cheeks, but she willed them to wait until she got back to her bedchamber. She couldn't allow such a fine man to be bound by her indiscretions. It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right.
She loved him, but he didn't deserve to be tied to a ninnyhammer as she. Besides, she wanted to be his love, not his duty.
Removing a handkerchief from her reticule, she blew her nose, then looked around the empty cloakroom. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed three times, which meant the hour was now 9:45. There was no way she could return to the ball, yet she couldn't hide in this room for one hour and fifteen minutes. What should she do? Millicent was enjoying herself immensely. She wouldn't want to leave, nor would Lady Yancy leave without her daughter.
So how could Danielle return to Lady Yancy's townhouse?
Danielle's solitary contemplation continued for a few minutes more, then voices drifted into the cloakroom from the outside corridor.
"Are you certain you wish to leave the ball so early, Miss Argyle?” a woman wheezed. She was probably asthmatic.
"Oh yes, Lady Fontaine. I quite agree with Hettie.” This woman, Miss Argyle, sounded young. “There are far too few eligible men attending this night.” She giggled. “We might as well admit defeat and go home."
"Yes,” a third voice joined in. “I shall fetch Mother's cloak and then we'll be off."
Danielle hurried to leave, but wasn't fast enough. She bumped into a young woman as she rounded the corner into the cloakroom.
"Pray, excuse me.” Danielle helped straighten the two askew feathers on the woman's turquoise toque.
"Nothing to excuse. An accident, that is all.” The woman—Hettie?—then peered at Danielle through overly large blue eyes. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Miss Fontaine."
Danielle replied, “Miss Galloway. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Lady Yancy's houseguest."
If possible, Hettie's eyes grew larger. “Indeed? Lady Yancy's?” A thoughtful expression covered her pleasant face. “Miss Galloway, if I may be so bold as to ask, are you feeling poorly?"
Danielle brushed away Hettie's concern. “Only a sight megrim.” A lie. “I look forward to the end of the ball.” The truth.
"Tush,” Hettie proclaimed, as her feathers bobbed in agreement. “You shall not have to wait upon Lady Yancy and Miss Newkirk in order to depart. My mother, Lady Fontaine, and I will be delighted to assist you."
Hettie's offer was a godsend. Danielle wouldn't have to wait much longer to give full vent to the violence of her feelings. She smiled, but naturally, her heart wasn't in it. “My thanks, Miss Fontaine. I am forever in your debt. I shall find Lady Yancy and tell her."
Leaving Hettie to get her mother's cloak, Danielle walked out into the corridor, introduced herself to Lady Fontaine and Miss Argyle, then walked a short distance to the ballroom. Fortunately she met Lady Yancy at the entry.
"Danielle, I've been searching everywhere for you."
The fact that a sheen of perspiration did dot Lady Yancy's upper lip supported her words. She must've indeed been searching. But where was her handkerchief when she really needed it?
"Danielle,” she continued. “You must—"
"Forgive me, Lady Yancy.” Danielle explained about the megrim, now more real than imagined. “Lady Fontaine and her daughter have kindly offered to return me to your townhouse forthwith."
Her hostess cried out in alarm. “Of course! Of course. Oh, how very vexing for you. As soon as you arrive, you must apply a poultice mixed with a tincture of laudanum to your forehead. My maid will see to it for you. Dear me, I do hope you will not suffer any permanent inconvenience."
Danielle fixed her shawl around her shoulders. She was more than eager to be gone from the Assembly Rooms. “I assure you, my lady, once I am comforted in the solitary quiet of my bedchamber, I shall be quite recovered."
In matters of my health, that is. As for my heart, it will never be healed.
Lady Yancy tut-tutted, as was her way. “Upon my honor, I do hope so. I cannot have Sir Ambrose believe I have not been an adequate hostess to his only daughter."
What a peculiar thing to say. As if her father would care one way or another about Lady Yancy's part in his daughter's debacle.
Shrugging, Danielle then made her good-byes, and turned to leave with her new friends. She would think about dealing with Sir Ambrose tomorrow. Tonight she didn't want to think about anything. She needed to wallow in her misery.
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Chapter Thirteen
Whether battling an enemy ... or wooing one's love, one had to have a plan of attack: a campaign most energetically pursued to accomplish the objective. In Edward's situation, he had to overcome Danny's resistance to his suit, but to achieve this; he first had to have a face-to-face meeting.
She thwarted him. On the morning after the ball, as was the usual custom of gentlemen pursuing ladies, he sent her a floral tribute—an arrangement of red, pink, white, and yellow roses. Two dozen in all.
The flowers were returned to the White Swan Inn.
In the afternoon, when he had knocked on Number Twenty, the Circus, Lady Yancy's butler had intoned that the ladies were from home.
On hearing from Raleigh that he had better luck, and was invited to accompany the ladies to a concert held in the Assembly Rooms that very evening, Edward also attended. Regrettably, only Lady Yancy and her daughter were present. Miss Galloway, he was told, suffered a megrim.
When he had asked if he might pay a call on the morrow, Lady Yancy had tut-tutted to such an extent, that Millicent begged her mother to refrain.
Fortunately, Lady Yancy had complied. “Sir,” she had whispered from her chair in the Octagon Room. “I am quite beside myself with concern over that young miss. She has made up her mind, and refuses to see you. I do not know what can be done. I am all to pieces with worry."
Edward was not defeated, however. This setback called for a change in tactics. In order to attain his goal, he would have to resort to a strategy that was a bit underhanded.
H
e would use Benjamin.
Saturday morning, Edward put his plan into action. To begin, he had to gather intelligence on his objective's movements.
He sought out Raleigh, who breakfasted at the White Swan. “Good morning, Raleigh.” Edward poured a cup of coffee, then sat across from his friend. “Did you enjoy your evening?"
Raleigh almost gushed his enthusiasm. “I say, jolly good fun, it was. After you left, Millicent favored us with a rendition of that popular Irish melody, ‘Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms.’ Millicent sings as sweetly as a nightingale."
Feeling contrary, Edward could not help but depress his friend's passion for his ladylove. “It is the male nightingale that warbles so melodiously."
"Bad form, old fellow. And bad luck for you about your quest to talk with Miss Galloway.” Raleigh had the impudence to tut-tut.
Was he spending that much time with Lady Yancy?
Raleigh then continued, “Millicent told me her young friend is quite firm in her resolve to keep you at bay. But why the devil are you pursuing her? You only met her once, for pity sake. To be sure, I can certainly see why she is heralded as the most beautiful creature in all of West Yorkshire. However beauty alone has never tempted you before. Can it be because she resembles Danny boy?"
About to sip on his coffee, Edward started coughing. He quickly set the cup on the table to avoid spilling it. “Er, I have my reasons. But enough of that, tell me your plans today. Do you dance attendance on your Miss Newkirk?"
"Happily, yes.” Raleigh finished a piece of buttered toast. “The dear girl wants me to sample Bath's medicinal waters, so I'm taking her, Miss Fontaine, and Miss Argyle to the Pump Room."
"Excellent. At what time?"
"Around two o'clock. Why this interest in my whereabouts, Sterling?"
"Not yours, but Miss Galloway's.” Edward finished his coffee, then poured another cup. As strange as it sounded, he had no need of solid food this morning. “With Miss Newkirk occupied, chances are good that Miss Galloway will be at home, with Lady Yancy as chaperon. I intend to try my hand again at securing her affections. To insure my success, I am bringing along her brother."
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