have been noticed enough, I am sure, even for Ellie and Uncle Aubry.”
Her features relaxed a little as she thanked him for the thought, but said she doubted her aunt would leave the card rooms voluntarily for she got so few chances to indulge in her favourite pastime.
“Even if I were to say you had the headache?”
“Aunt Claudia would know it was a hum; I’ve never had a headache in my life.”
“But if I had a servant bring the message, she could not very well deny it in front of the whole company, could she?” Miss Bethingame smiled for the first time since leaving the library, a tentative, appreciative smile that aroused feelings of tenderness Carleton hadn’t known he possessed. A servant was sent to the card rooms, another to fetch the ladies’ pelisses and call for the carriage, while Lord Carleton and Miss Bethingame circled the dancers on the way out. The lady was uneasy to be under the scrutiny of everyone along the walls, though she was thankful to be leaving an entirely unfortunate affair. The gentleman, meanwhile, was delighted to help her vanish before the dance was over for more subtle reasons. Carleton knew he could not ask her to dance again without causing even more comment, and he did not trust his friends! It was as simple as that: if he could not have her company, no one would.
Aunt Claudia, Lady Burke, a short, very plump woman of middle age, was waiting in the hall. She was introduced to Lord Carleton as Miss Bethingame’s father’s sister, widow of the late Lord Humphreys Burke. Carleton immediately volunteered to express her regrets to the Duchess, so there was no question of their staying on, to Aunt Claudia’s irritation. She was not about to ask her niece for an explanation in his presence, either, so she merely noted Miss Bethingame’s continued healthful appearance before moving disgustedly through the front doors. Before Miss Bethingame could follow, Carleton pulled a flower from a vase on the hall table and handed it to her, saying, “Miss Bethingame, I am truly sorry if I have hurt you.”
She said nothing but gave him a fleeting, radiant smile before running through the door after her aunt.
The ballroom was buzzing with talk now between dances. Carleton reintroduced himself to the first girl he saw and asked her for the next country dance, just forming. He chatted pleasantly to her, and successive changes of partners, about the weather, the countryside, the war in France. What was so hard about this? he wondered. He danced continuously through the second part of the ball and was gracious to all of his partners, selecting them by nearness to hand and finding something to compliment each one about: this one’s gown, that one’s dancing or flowers or green eyes. Previously awkward, shy girls blossomed to lay their hearts at his feet. It was only as the last dance was announced, the second waltz, that Carleton stood aside. He looked around slowly and many breaths were held in anticipation to see whom he would honour. His mother looked at him quizzically as he walked toward her from nearby, but he did not select any of the debutantes at her side to partner. Instead, he made an exquisite low bow in front of the Duchess and held out his hand. “Your Grace, may I have this dance with the most beautiful woman in the ballroom?”
SEVEN
Breakfast on the morning following the ball was a haphazard affair. Many of the guests rose early, ate hurriedly and departed in order to arrive in London that evening, having made their farewells the night before. Among these were most of Carleton’s own friends, with wagers on who could arrive at White’s first. Only Ferddie Milbrooke was staying on for another week. The other house guests were planning to leave Carlyle Hall after luncheon, put up at posting house inns and conclude their journeys the following day; they were resting late this morning in preparation. The Duke had eaten much earlier and was with his estate manager, a
Her features relaxed a little as she thanked him for the thought, but said she doubted her aunt would leave the card rooms voluntarily for she got so few chances to indulge in her favourite pastime.
“Even if I were to say you had the headache?”
“Aunt Claudia would know it was a hum; I’ve never had a headache in my life.”
“But if I had a servant bring the message, she could not very well deny it in front of the whole company, could she?” Miss Bethingame smiled for the first time since leaving the library, a tentative, appreciative smile that aroused feelings of tenderness Carleton hadn’t known he possessed. A servant was sent to the card rooms, another to fetch the ladies’ pelisses and call for the carriage, while Lord Carleton and Miss Bethingame circled the dancers on the way out. The lady was uneasy to be under the scrutiny of everyone along the walls, though she was thankful to be leaving an entirely unfortunate affair. The gentleman, meanwhile, was delighted to help her vanish before the dance was over for more subtle reasons. Carleton knew he could not ask her to dance again without causing even more comment, and he did not trust his friends! It was as simple as that: if he could not have her company, no one would.
Aunt Claudia, Lady Burke, a short, very plump woman of middle age, was waiting in the hall. She was introduced to Lord Carleton as Miss Bethingame’s father’s sister, widow of the late Lord Humphreys Burke. Carleton immediately volunteered to express her regrets to the Duchess, so there was no question of their staying on, to Aunt Claudia’s irritation. She was not about to ask her niece for an explanation in his presence, either, so she merely noted Miss Bethingame’s continued healthful appearance before moving disgustedly through the front doors. Before Miss Bethingame could follow, Carleton pulled a flower from a vase on the hall table and handed it to her, saying, “Miss Bethingame, I am truly sorry if I have hurt you.”
She said nothing but gave him a fleeting, radiant smile before running through the door after her aunt.
The ballroom was buzzing with talk now between dances. Carleton reintroduced himself to the first girl he saw and asked her for the next country dance, just forming. He chatted pleasantly to her, and successive changes of partners, about the weather, the countryside, the war in France. What was so hard about this? he wondered. He danced continuously through the second part of the ball and was gracious to all of his partners, selecting them by nearness to hand and finding something to compliment each one about: this one’s gown, that one’s dancing or flowers or green eyes. Previously awkward, shy girls blossomed to lay their hearts at his feet. It was only as the last dance was announced, the second waltz, that Carleton stood aside. He looked around slowly and many breaths were held in anticipation to see whom he would honour. His mother looked at him quizzically as he walked toward her from nearby, but he did not select any of the debutantes at her side to partner. Instead, he made an exquisite low bow in front of the Duchess and held out his hand. “Your Grace, may I have this dance with the most beautiful woman in the ballroom?”
SEVEN
Breakfast on the morning following the ball was a haphazard affair. Many of the guests rose early, ate hurriedly and departed in order to arrive in London that evening, having made their farewells the night before. Among these were most of Carleton’s own friends, with wagers on who could arrive at White’s first. Only Ferddie Milbrooke was staying on for another week. The other house guests were planning to leave Carlyle Hall after luncheon, put up at posting house inns and conclude their journeys the following day; they were resting late this morning in preparation. The Duke had eaten much earlier and was with his estate manager, a
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