sidelines.
“I wonder why he has never married. He has certainly had the opportunity,” wondered one matron.
“For many years, he was traveling, on his own or diplomatic business, and now that he has been more settled, he ignores all the young girls thrown at his head.”
“Well, most of the mothers that I know have given up on him.”
Nora, who was on the edge of this conversation, smiled to herself. So the viscount was the sort who chose widows, not young girls. That was certainly preferable, in her mind, to setting up serial mistresses from the Fashionably Impure, or marrying some naive young woman Miranda’s age. The viscount was partnering Lady Maria in a country dance, and Nora watched them curiously. The widow was certainly an attractive woman and could not be more than twenty-seven or eight, Nora thought, with a slight pang which she recognized as jealousy.
As though he felt her eyes on him, the viscount glanced over to where she was standing a little behind the gossiping matrons in their chairs. I must ask her to dance, he thought. He smiled at the memory of Nora’s vigorous strides over the Heath, and the Lady Maria smiled back at him from across the set. Sam had been most attentive and she was quite happy to have been singled out as his next parti . He was not the highest-ranking of her admirers, but there was something about him, a combination of strength and a real liking for women, that made him attractive.
Nora watched them smiling at one another and glanced over to where Miranda stood next to Jeremy. He was making sure her first foray into society was successful, and had stayed by her side more than was usually done, in order to protect her from those who might make her feel ill-at-ease. Nora could not help but appreciate his thoughtfulness. As a conspirator, however, she could see her daughter was more relaxed than Nora would have thought she could be. And she was ashamed to admit to herself that she was feeling envious of her own daughter. There she stood with an attentive and protective young man by her side. She was moving out of her old life and into a new one, and Nora would be left behind, never having been able to relax against the knowledge of being loved as Miranda could, did she marry Jeremy. For a moment, all around her fell away and Nora felt herself overcome by a sensation of emptiness, and immediately afterward, as dancers, orchestra, and bystanders fell kaleidoscopically into place, a vulnerability which she thought had gone years ago.
Out of nowhere, it seemed, the viscount was in front of her, asking for the next dance, a waltz, and the moment of openness and receptivity lasted long enough for her to say yes. She looked up at him with a face from which the years had been swept away, the face of a girl, trusting and hopeful. Almost immediately her expression changed, but he thought he had caught a glimpse of someone infinitely vulnerable. He felt a wave of protectiveness sweep over him, which seemed immediately inappropriate as Nora began to speak to him as the competent Mrs. Dillon.
“I am worried Jeremy is going to be successful in thwarting our plans,” she began. Sam was, at that moment, far more interested in eliciting that fleeting look than discussing their schemes.
“You and your daughter are looking lovely tonight. In fact, did I not know that Miranda was your daughter, I would have a hard time believing it.”
“Thank you, Lord Acland , ” replied Nora, absentmindedly accepting the compliment, “but I really am worried Miranda looks too much at ease.”
Sam glanced down, amused at his failure to entice Mrs. Dillon into a flirtation. The woman in his arms even felt different from the one he had begun the dance with. It was not that she was resistant so much as inaccessible. It seemed as if a part of herself she kept hidden away, but she was so straightforward that Sam would never have guessed at this other self had he not come upon her in that moment of
“I wonder why he has never married. He has certainly had the opportunity,” wondered one matron.
“For many years, he was traveling, on his own or diplomatic business, and now that he has been more settled, he ignores all the young girls thrown at his head.”
“Well, most of the mothers that I know have given up on him.”
Nora, who was on the edge of this conversation, smiled to herself. So the viscount was the sort who chose widows, not young girls. That was certainly preferable, in her mind, to setting up serial mistresses from the Fashionably Impure, or marrying some naive young woman Miranda’s age. The viscount was partnering Lady Maria in a country dance, and Nora watched them curiously. The widow was certainly an attractive woman and could not be more than twenty-seven or eight, Nora thought, with a slight pang which she recognized as jealousy.
As though he felt her eyes on him, the viscount glanced over to where she was standing a little behind the gossiping matrons in their chairs. I must ask her to dance, he thought. He smiled at the memory of Nora’s vigorous strides over the Heath, and the Lady Maria smiled back at him from across the set. Sam had been most attentive and she was quite happy to have been singled out as his next parti . He was not the highest-ranking of her admirers, but there was something about him, a combination of strength and a real liking for women, that made him attractive.
Nora watched them smiling at one another and glanced over to where Miranda stood next to Jeremy. He was making sure her first foray into society was successful, and had stayed by her side more than was usually done, in order to protect her from those who might make her feel ill-at-ease. Nora could not help but appreciate his thoughtfulness. As a conspirator, however, she could see her daughter was more relaxed than Nora would have thought she could be. And she was ashamed to admit to herself that she was feeling envious of her own daughter. There she stood with an attentive and protective young man by her side. She was moving out of her old life and into a new one, and Nora would be left behind, never having been able to relax against the knowledge of being loved as Miranda could, did she marry Jeremy. For a moment, all around her fell away and Nora felt herself overcome by a sensation of emptiness, and immediately afterward, as dancers, orchestra, and bystanders fell kaleidoscopically into place, a vulnerability which she thought had gone years ago.
Out of nowhere, it seemed, the viscount was in front of her, asking for the next dance, a waltz, and the moment of openness and receptivity lasted long enough for her to say yes. She looked up at him with a face from which the years had been swept away, the face of a girl, trusting and hopeful. Almost immediately her expression changed, but he thought he had caught a glimpse of someone infinitely vulnerable. He felt a wave of protectiveness sweep over him, which seemed immediately inappropriate as Nora began to speak to him as the competent Mrs. Dillon.
“I am worried Jeremy is going to be successful in thwarting our plans,” she began. Sam was, at that moment, far more interested in eliciting that fleeting look than discussing their schemes.
“You and your daughter are looking lovely tonight. In fact, did I not know that Miranda was your daughter, I would have a hard time believing it.”
“Thank you, Lord Acland , ” replied Nora, absentmindedly accepting the compliment, “but I really am worried Miranda looks too much at ease.”
Sam glanced down, amused at his failure to entice Mrs. Dillon into a flirtation. The woman in his arms even felt different from the one he had begun the dance with. It was not that she was resistant so much as inaccessible. It seemed as if a part of herself she kept hidden away, but she was so straightforward that Sam would never have guessed at this other self had he not come upon her in that moment of
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