Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
T he carriage drive into the quaint town of Sevenoaks for the assembly ball took twenty minutes from the ducal estate. Outside, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed on the dry, stony road, and the warm glow of lanterns lit the way as they approached the town limits. The assembly rooms were stone structures with a thatch roof, and townspeople and carriages lined up to enjoy a night of revelry.
Inside, they were greeted by the local vicar and his wife, whose smiles were as practiced as their bows. The Duke and Duchess of D'Estel spent several minutes speaking to the local gentry and those in attendance, their polished manners drawing admiration. Then, as was their custom, they moved toward the side of the room to allow space for the more daring souls eager to dance.
Lord and Lady Haverly took to the floor, joined by Lord Charteris and Lady Delphine. Matilda stood beside the duchess, her gloved hands clasped before her as she watched Christopher spin Lady Delphine about the ballroom floor with perfection. The man really knew how to dance and make even that pastime look effortless.
The lively strains of the violins and Christopher’s low laugh carried above the chatter of the crowd. Together, he and Lady Delphine made a striking pair—elegant, poised, and undeniably well-matched. The sight sent an uncomfortable ripple down Matilda’s spine.
Why did it matter to her whom he danced with? She did not wish for him to be her husband. He did not love and adore her as one's husband or potential suitor should. And he had not given her false hope that he was falling for her charms, even if his kisses were so very enjoyable.
Still, Matilda sighed, wishing it were she who was enjoying the floor with his lordship. Not that he had much choice regarding whom he danced with first. Lady Delphine and her parents had accompanied Lord Charteris to the ball. There was little doubt a conversation on who would accompany him on his first dance had been had in the carriage and, with it, his obligation to ask the young lady traveling with him.
Matilda stood observing the dancers just as a young man she did not recognize approached the Duke and Duchess D'Estel, bowing with impeccable grace. His dark hair was artfully styled, and his attire spoke of wealth. Her heart fluttered, for it seemed an introduction was imminent when Her Grace turned to find her in the crowd.
“Lady Matilda, my dear, come join us," Her Grace beckoned her to their side, and Matilda took a fortifying breath and pasted on a welcoming smile.
"My dear, may I introduce you to Mr. Melvin Lincoln of Thornhaven Abbey," the duchess said. “He resides not far from here and is eager to make your acquaintance.”
“Mr. Lincoln, a pleasure to meet you.” Matilda offered her hand, his fingers brushing over hers as he bowed. His mischievous gaze met hers when he straightened, sending a faint warmth to her cheeks.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Matilda,” he replied, his voice rich and smooth. “If you would honor me with the next dance, I would be delighted.”
“Of course, she’s willing, sir,” the duchess interjected with a smile that left no room for refusal.
Matilda nodded, suppressing a grin at the duchess's attempt at matchmaking. “I would honored, Mr. Lincoln, thank you."
As they moved toward the dance floor, Matilda caught Lord Charteris's gaze from across the room. His expression was inscrutable, but his lips pressed into a thin line, and something about his posture conveyed disapproval.
Ignoring him, she turned her attention back to her dance partner. “Does Thornhaven Abbey boast any ghosts?” she asked as they waited for the last dance to end and theirs to begin. “It sounds like the kind of place where ghouls abound.”
His lips curved into a handsome smile. “Indeed, it does, my lady. Tales of spectral figures wandering the halls at night are whispered by the staff. Perhaps you would care to investigate for yourself? With your family, of course.”
The violins struck up a lively tune, and Mr. Lincoln led her into the opening steps of the dance. The floor beneath her shoes felt smooth as they danced across it. The air was filled with the mingling scents of beeswax candles and rosewater perfume, and the rustle of fabric accompanied their movements like a second melody.
“Perhaps I shall,” Matilda replied with a laugh. “I must admit, the idea intrigues me.”
“Then you must join me for the winter ball I host before closing the Abbey for the Season,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling. “It would be an honor to welcome you, your friends, and any family you wish to invite.”
“That sounds delightful." Matilda grinned as the steps of the dance brought them closer. For a moment, the proximity felt almost intimate before they separated again in accordance with the steps.
The conversation flowed easily, and Matilda found herself thoroughly charmed.
"You're lucky I'm here this evening, Lady Matilda. I had an unfortunate event where my horse threw me only this morning, so I hope my dancing is to your standard. I must admit to feeling a little sore tonight."
Matilda's steps faltered as she took in his words. "Mr. Lincoln, I'm so sorry for you then, but I will say your dancing has not been harmed. In fact, you dance very well for a gentleman who is injured."
"You flatter me." He smiled.
Matilda laughed. "Maybe a little, but I'm also telling the truth." She paused. “How fortunate you are that you are only a little sore. A fall off a horse could have had a far more ominous outcome than missing a town assembly."
“Indeed,” he agreed, his gaze softening. “For I would not have had the pleasure of meeting or dancing with you, Lady Matilda.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she faltered in the dance for a moment. Recovering quickly, she glanced at the throng of guests and locked eyes with Lord Charteris. He stood alone, whisky in hand, watching her with something akin to vexation.
His jaw was set, his expression thunderous. Was he angry with her? She frowned and turned her attention back to Mr. Lincoln, confused as to why Lord Charteris was displeased. They were friends who shared kisses, nothing more. He had no reason to be put out by her dancing with another man. He knew she was looking for a love match, just as he was looking for no match.
As the dance came to an end, Mr. Lincoln bowed low. “Thank you, my lady. I hope this will not be the last time we meet, and please do consider coming to my ball. The Abbey is not far from here.”
Matilda nodded in agreement. “I believe we'll meet again,” she replied, hoping that may be true.
He escorted her back to the Duke and Duchess D'Estel, but Lord Charteris appeared at her side before she could say more. His presence was as commanding as his grip on her arm was.
“A turn about the room, if you please, Lady Matilda.” He pulled her away without another word, and not wanting to cause a scene, she followed his lead.
He led her away, and she frowned. “Is something amiss?”
He did not answer immediately, instead steering her toward a quiet corner where potted plants hid them from view. “I did not realize your interests lay with an untitled country gentleman. He is wealthy, I will give him that, but the dress you're wearing this evening would be a trinket of the past. His purse is not deep enough to keep a duke's daughter clothed.”
Matilda bristled. “Well, maybe I would remain naked in Mr. Lincoln's presence if he were my husband; therefore, it would not signify what I wore." She paused, taking a deep breath to calm her ire. "Mr. Lincoln is a gentleman in every sense of the word,” she retorted. “I see no reason why you disparage him.”
Christopher’s gaze darkened. “I do not mock him, but you must see the absurdity. Your father would never allow such a match.”
She lifted her chin, wanting to cast out his words. “Perhaps he would if I cared for Mr. Lincoln.”
“You’re deluding yourself,” he snapped, though his gaze drifted to her lips. “And yet, for all your stubbornness, there is something irresistible about you. I can see why Mr. Lincoln sought you out.”
Her breath caught, heat blooming in her cheeks. “You lie. You have not sought me out once this evening, only now to berate me like a child."
“I am merely trying to make you see sense,” he murmured. “You are beautiful, though you are also insufferable and perhaps a little desperate to find love.”
Matilda laughed, the sound void of humor. “High praise indeed." She stepped back, placing much-needed distance between them. “But perhaps you ought to be more concerned about your own life, my lord. By singling out Lady Delphine this evening as you have, they will soon expect an offer of marriage. What a shame it is that you do not want a wife. She would dote on you, I'm sure."
She turned on her heel and returned to the Duchess, leaving Lord Charteris alone. A faint smile graced her lips as she weaved through the crowd. The sight of his lordship's shocked expression was satisfying—a fitting repayment for his sharp words, though they had wounded her more deeply than she cared to admit.