her his arm to lead her on to the floor.
Emily would have been hard put to it to describe her feelings. Overwhelming relief, certainly. Sir William Ashenden had clearly not recognised her. But mixed with relief there was another less easily defined feeling⦠What was it? She watched the two dance up the room and decided that she disliked Mrs Fenton. The woman was too confident of her power, too obviously charming. And far too beautiful. Sir William was looking down at her with such admiration in his eyes⦠With a gasp she pulled herself together again. She should be thanking her stars that âher Willâ had not recognised her, not be envious of his attentions to Mrs Fenton!
Â
After the waltz was over William returned Mrs Fenton to her com pan ions and rejoined his god mother. He had enjoyed Maria Fentonâs company, and looked forward to more of it in the future. He was by no means sure, however, that she was what he was looking for in a wife. He had met many such women in his travels, graceful, accomplished, with a gift for amusing conversation. But he was looking for more genuine warmth in the woman he would marry, someone who could not only charm his neighbours at balls and soirées, but would create an affection ate home for his orphans as well. He might be doing the lady an injustice, but he suspected kindness to children would not be a priority with Maria Fenton.
He turned his attention to his godmotherâs other choice. Miss Winbolt. At first sight she lacked any kind of warmth. Indeed, her manner was distinctly chilly. But she was hardly the woman Mrs Gosworth had de scribed. She couldnât be more than four or five and twenty and, far from being jealous of her sister-in-law, their affection for each other was clear. A bit of an enigma then, Miss Winbolt. Perhaps he should make an effort to know her better, if only to please his god mother.
The Winbolts had moved on and were engaged in conversation with a group of friends nearby. Emily Winbolt was standing slightly to one side, talking to Rosa and one of the gentlemen. William examined her from a distance. It was trueâcompared with her sister-in-law she seemed almost plain. Her hair was drawn back into a neat knot at the back of her head, and though her dress was obviously a London creation, its severity did little to enhance her looks. But her profile had a purity of line that was attractive. And from what he could see,she had quite a good figure⦠At that point something someone had said amused her and she laughed. William was astonished at the difference it made in her. It was a delightfully deep laugh, full of warmth and genuine enjoyment, and he was visited by a strange feeling that he had met this woman before. She turned as he approached and the laughter died abruptly. He could even have sworn he saw a fleeting expression of alarm in her eyes before she lowered them. But when she looked up again Miss Winbolt was once more the woman who had been de scribed to him. Her eyes contained nothing but chilly in difference. Undeterred, he went up to her and bowed.
âMiss Winbolt, I know so few ladies here tonight. Dare I request a dance with you?â
The orchestra was warming up for the next set of dances. Miss Winbolt stared at him. He thought for a moment she would refuse, but her sister-in-law said,
âBe kind to Sir William, Emily. He is to be one of our neighbours soon. Isnât that so, Sir William?â
âNâ¦neighbours?â Miss Winbolt was pale.
âCharlwood, Miss Winbolt.â He offered his arm. âShall we? Or shall we look for some refreshment and have a talk about Charlwood?â
âOh, no!â she exclaimed and put her hand on his arm. He was surprised to feel it trembling and felt a sudden, powerful urge to protect her. But from what? What was Miss Winbolt so afraid of?
He was still puzzled as they took to the floor. The urge to comfort persisted, though their conversation
Emily would have been hard put to it to describe her feelings. Overwhelming relief, certainly. Sir William Ashenden had clearly not recognised her. But mixed with relief there was another less easily defined feeling⦠What was it? She watched the two dance up the room and decided that she disliked Mrs Fenton. The woman was too confident of her power, too obviously charming. And far too beautiful. Sir William was looking down at her with such admiration in his eyes⦠With a gasp she pulled herself together again. She should be thanking her stars that âher Willâ had not recognised her, not be envious of his attentions to Mrs Fenton!
Â
After the waltz was over William returned Mrs Fenton to her com pan ions and rejoined his god mother. He had enjoyed Maria Fentonâs company, and looked forward to more of it in the future. He was by no means sure, however, that she was what he was looking for in a wife. He had met many such women in his travels, graceful, accomplished, with a gift for amusing conversation. But he was looking for more genuine warmth in the woman he would marry, someone who could not only charm his neighbours at balls and soirées, but would create an affection ate home for his orphans as well. He might be doing the lady an injustice, but he suspected kindness to children would not be a priority with Maria Fenton.
He turned his attention to his godmotherâs other choice. Miss Winbolt. At first sight she lacked any kind of warmth. Indeed, her manner was distinctly chilly. But she was hardly the woman Mrs Gosworth had de scribed. She couldnât be more than four or five and twenty and, far from being jealous of her sister-in-law, their affection for each other was clear. A bit of an enigma then, Miss Winbolt. Perhaps he should make an effort to know her better, if only to please his god mother.
The Winbolts had moved on and were engaged in conversation with a group of friends nearby. Emily Winbolt was standing slightly to one side, talking to Rosa and one of the gentlemen. William examined her from a distance. It was trueâcompared with her sister-in-law she seemed almost plain. Her hair was drawn back into a neat knot at the back of her head, and though her dress was obviously a London creation, its severity did little to enhance her looks. But her profile had a purity of line that was attractive. And from what he could see,she had quite a good figure⦠At that point something someone had said amused her and she laughed. William was astonished at the difference it made in her. It was a delightfully deep laugh, full of warmth and genuine enjoyment, and he was visited by a strange feeling that he had met this woman before. She turned as he approached and the laughter died abruptly. He could even have sworn he saw a fleeting expression of alarm in her eyes before she lowered them. But when she looked up again Miss Winbolt was once more the woman who had been de scribed to him. Her eyes contained nothing but chilly in difference. Undeterred, he went up to her and bowed.
âMiss Winbolt, I know so few ladies here tonight. Dare I request a dance with you?â
The orchestra was warming up for the next set of dances. Miss Winbolt stared at him. He thought for a moment she would refuse, but her sister-in-law said,
âBe kind to Sir William, Emily. He is to be one of our neighbours soon. Isnât that so, Sir William?â
âNâ¦neighbours?â Miss Winbolt was pale.
âCharlwood, Miss Winbolt.â He offered his arm. âShall we? Or shall we look for some refreshment and have a talk about Charlwood?â
âOh, no!â she exclaimed and put her hand on his arm. He was surprised to feel it trembling and felt a sudden, powerful urge to protect her. But from what? What was Miss Winbolt so afraid of?
He was still puzzled as they took to the floor. The urge to comfort persisted, though their conversation
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