only murmur slight appreciation as Sir Edwin began a strain of flattery as elaborate as his dress. Right there in front of the frowning Duchess and a handful of young men from the country, he likened her brown curls to the rivulets in a stream, flowing in the sunshine. Her skin became gardenia petals, her eyes those of a gentle doe. This was becoming ridiculous, she thought, comparing these inanities to Ferddie’s sweet compliments, Carleton’s smiles of approval. The music was beginning, and she heard snickers from James Rivington, for one; Miss Bethingame was growing embarrassed, indignant and in danger of losing her temper. “Sir Edwin,” she began hurriedly when he had finished a description of her swanlike neck and was staring intently at the cleavage her gown revealed, “I am neither a dumb animal nor a babbling brook. Incidentally,” she added mischievously, looking him straight in his watery blue eyes, “I am not an heiress either. Do you still wish to dance?”
It was Sir Edwin’s turn to be embarrassed as he quickly led her to the dance floor to escape the laughter bubbling up around him and the bravos shouted for Elizabeth’s wit. The Duchess looked across the floor to her son, who was glaring furiously, out of hearing. The Duchess smiled at him confidently. There was no need to worry about Miss Bethingame on that score; she was well able to take care of herself!
Nevertheless, Carleton was at the Duchess’s side at the completion of the dance, when Elizabeth returned. He did not offer for the next set, though, nor the following, but only chatted amiably with the new beauty’s admirers. Elizabeth could not help but note that most of the others were younger than Carleton and seemed more subdued in his presence. In fact, they no longer seemed so anxious to stand up with her! No one said one nice thing about her dimples or her turned-up nose! Perhaps Carleton sensed the effect he was having, for he soon wandered off, saying that perhaps now it was safe to meet the chit Robert was interested in.
The last dance was announced shortly, a waltz. Since this was a country ball where the guests had to travel some distance to get home, it would end much earlier than the grand London fetes, which often went on till dawn. As Elizabeth sadly looked to the Duchess for her last partner, she told herself she was only regretting the last dance of her first real ball; she knew very well that she was disappointed not to have a last dance with the Marquis. She had hoped he was waiting for the waltz after making sure she would dance it this time, but he was not among those clamouring for the honour. The Duchess was talking to an older man, not aware of Elizabeth’s difficulties. Where Elizabeth had almost resented having her partners chosen for her, she now realised what a relief it had been. She did not wish to slight anyone, but she was determined not to miss her very first waltz out in company. She was just about to select the nearest gentleman when a deep, mellow voice spoke at her back: “I believe this dance is mine, Miss Bethingame?” Elizabeth looked quickly over to the Duchess for any hint of disapproval, but Lady Carlyle nodded reassuringly, perhaps recalling the last dance of the week before. With a radiant smile, Elizabeth turned and almost floated into the Marquis’s waiting arms.
If they had been a topic of interest before, they were now an established Fact, as far as anyone watching them dance was concerned. In truth, the only one not hearing wedding bells was Miss Bethingame herself, who was too happy to consider tomorrow!
TEN
Tomorrow came quickly, before the dawn. In fact, it was waiting for Elizabeth at home in the form of an unannounced, uninvited visit from the present Earl of Bething, her Uncle Aubry. That gentleman had been conducting business in London, where some interesting tidbits of gossip had reached his ears. He had immediately altered his plans in order to pay a visit to his niece and
It was Sir Edwin’s turn to be embarrassed as he quickly led her to the dance floor to escape the laughter bubbling up around him and the bravos shouted for Elizabeth’s wit. The Duchess looked across the floor to her son, who was glaring furiously, out of hearing. The Duchess smiled at him confidently. There was no need to worry about Miss Bethingame on that score; she was well able to take care of herself!
Nevertheless, Carleton was at the Duchess’s side at the completion of the dance, when Elizabeth returned. He did not offer for the next set, though, nor the following, but only chatted amiably with the new beauty’s admirers. Elizabeth could not help but note that most of the others were younger than Carleton and seemed more subdued in his presence. In fact, they no longer seemed so anxious to stand up with her! No one said one nice thing about her dimples or her turned-up nose! Perhaps Carleton sensed the effect he was having, for he soon wandered off, saying that perhaps now it was safe to meet the chit Robert was interested in.
The last dance was announced shortly, a waltz. Since this was a country ball where the guests had to travel some distance to get home, it would end much earlier than the grand London fetes, which often went on till dawn. As Elizabeth sadly looked to the Duchess for her last partner, she told herself she was only regretting the last dance of her first real ball; she knew very well that she was disappointed not to have a last dance with the Marquis. She had hoped he was waiting for the waltz after making sure she would dance it this time, but he was not among those clamouring for the honour. The Duchess was talking to an older man, not aware of Elizabeth’s difficulties. Where Elizabeth had almost resented having her partners chosen for her, she now realised what a relief it had been. She did not wish to slight anyone, but she was determined not to miss her very first waltz out in company. She was just about to select the nearest gentleman when a deep, mellow voice spoke at her back: “I believe this dance is mine, Miss Bethingame?” Elizabeth looked quickly over to the Duchess for any hint of disapproval, but Lady Carlyle nodded reassuringly, perhaps recalling the last dance of the week before. With a radiant smile, Elizabeth turned and almost floated into the Marquis’s waiting arms.
If they had been a topic of interest before, they were now an established Fact, as far as anyone watching them dance was concerned. In truth, the only one not hearing wedding bells was Miss Bethingame herself, who was too happy to consider tomorrow!
TEN
Tomorrow came quickly, before the dawn. In fact, it was waiting for Elizabeth at home in the form of an unannounced, uninvited visit from the present Earl of Bething, her Uncle Aubry. That gentleman had been conducting business in London, where some interesting tidbits of gossip had reached his ears. He had immediately altered his plans in order to pay a visit to his niece and
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