Chapter Three
After Viscount Dyer left, several women came up to her and Miss Tweedham, asking if he had claimed a dance from them. Miss Tweedham excitedly shared the news, while Rowena smiled numbly.
Why had Lord Dyer come and spoken to them, much less asked the two of them to dance?
She believed it must have something to do with his cousin, Lady Tia, or else the viscount never would have sought her out.
It was kind of Lady Tia to still be thinking about her, and Miss Tweedham had reaped the benefits of standing next to her when the viscount appeared.
She had to give him credit for being a gentleman and asking both of them to dance.
Far too many other bachelors, on a mission of mercy such as this, would have merely asked her to dance and ignored Miss Tweedham.
She tried to surreptitiously watch him on the dance floor.
He was at least six feet and possessed a lean, athletic frame.
He moved with grace as he danced, and it was apparent any physical activity would be easy for him.
His aquiline nose gave his profile an interesting look.
Overall, he was very appealing. Still, she knew his reputation.
He was a gentleman who tended to flirt a bit, but he never seemed to call upon any eligible young ladies.
That let her know right away that he had no intentions toward her. It was merely a single dance.
Just before it was time for him to dance with her friend, Rowena saw her aunt motioning to her.
“I must leave you, Miss Tweedham. My aunt wishes to speak with me.”
“But he is about to be here, Miss Stanhope!”
She patted Miss Tweedham’s hand and smiled. “And you will be waiting here for him, as he expects.”
Rowena wished to tell her friend not to make too much of this dance, but she knew Miss Tweedham had not danced a single set this entire Season. She could not take away the thrill her friend now experienced.
“Enjoy your dance with Lord Dyer. I will watch for you on the dance floor.”
She left where they were seated, a section of chairs set up for those wallflowers who did not dance—or were rarely asked to do so.
Making her way around the edges of the ballroom, she spoke to a few others, and then she reached Aunt Sylvia.
Her aunt was Papa’s only sister, a woman who had been widowed early in her marriage and had chosen not to remarry.
Aunt Sylvia had been the one Rowena had turned to when she had questions which only a female mind held the answer to, including what it meant when her courses began.
Rowena had thought she was dying when the blood first appeared, but Aunt Sylvia had calmed her and explained how to handle this monthly inconvenience.
Aunt Sylvia sat with Lady Pebble, whose husband’s country estate was adjacent to her own father’s.
Lady Pebble had been a good friend of Rowena’s mother, and she and Lord Pebble treated Rowena as a daughter.
The couple remained childless, and she appreciated her visits with the viscountess when they came to town each spring for the Season.
“Good evening, Aunt. Lady Pebble. How are you this evening?”
“I see the wallflower section atwitter, thanks to Lord Dyer’s visit to it,” her aunt observed. “I assume he asked you to dance. It looked as if he signed your dance programme.”
“He did,” she confirmed. “He also claimed a dance from my close friend, Miss Tweedham.”
“But why?” Aunt Sylvia pressed. “How do you even know Lord Dyer?”
She knew Lord Dyer had broken protocol by speaking to them without having been previously introduced by a common acquaintance. She did not want these two women to think less of him and told a small white lie. “We met through Lady Tia Worthington, who is now Lady Merriman.”
“Oh, Lord Pebble and I attended her wedding yesterday,” the viscountess said. “I did not realize the two of you knew one another.”
“We do,” she said confidently, not bothering to share their connection.
“She is a duke’s sister,” Aunt Sylvia said, looking suitably impressed. “It is a good connection for you to cultivate, Rowena.”
The three watched as Lord Dyer made his way toward Miss Tweedham. Even from far across the room, she could see her friend beaming at him. He led them out onto the dance floor, and Rowena watched them dance together.
“The viscount cuts a fine figure,” Lady Pebble remarked.
She would have to stop this nonsense since both women eyed her expectantly. “I believe Lord Dyer is simply being kind in asking me to dance this evening. He is quite close to his cousin. I would not like for either of you to think too much of this.”
“As you wish,” Aunt Sylvia replied.
She bid them farewell and returned to the area of wallflowers who watched the couple with bated breath as Lord Dyer moved one of their own about the dance floor.
When the set ended, he returned Miss Tweedham, giving Rowena a smile and saying, “I will see you soon, Miss Stanhope.”
She was sitting there, listening to Miss Tweedham go on and on about the dance when another gentleman came up. Rowena had met him during her first Season, so no introduction was necessary. Still, it surprised her he was here now.
“If you are not otherwise engaged for this set, Miss Stanhope, I would be most grateful to dance it with you.”
“I am not, my lord,” she said, smiling at him.
As they danced, Rowena now guessed at the reason behind Lord Dyer asking her to dance.
His cousin, feeling sorry for Rowena, had asked him to do so, in hopes that other gentlemen might also dance with her.
A bit of disappointment filled her, knowing it had not been the viscount’s idea.
Still, she would graciously accept the dance simply because she enjoyed dancing.
Not that she excelled at it by any means, but it was a pleasurable activity she did not have the opportunity to often indulge in.
And then it was time. He approached her, so tall and handsome. She was mesmerized by his unique amethyst eyes, a shade she had never seen in another living soul.
“I believe this is the number we are engaged for,” he said, flashing a smile that made her grow weak in the knees.
She placed her fingertips on his sleeve and walked with him, where they joined another group forming on the dance floor.
Her heart beat fast as they danced. She saw some of the looks she received, other women wondering why a man such as Lord Dyer would even bother with a wallflower such as herself.
Suddenly, Rowena was painfully aware of the disguise she wore.
How her gown was three Seasons old and did not fit her well.
She wished she could fling off the gold spectacles and let him see her face without them.
Then she chuckled to herself, thinking she was reacting as a starry-eyed girl making her come-out. She had no need of a husband. Besides, it wasn’t as if Lord Dyer held any true interest in her. She decided to throw herself into the moment, knowing dances were few and far between for her.
The musicians concluded their number, and Lord Purlington announced that supper would now be served.
Lord Dyer reached for her hand and slipped it through the crook of his arm in a possessive gesture, causing all kinds of new, unknown feelings to rush through her.
Rowena pushed them aside, knowing her fairy tale would soon come to an end—and it would not have a happily ever after ending.
“You are a most enthusiastic dancer, my lady.”
She gazed up at him. “You must have a mother who drilled good manners into you, my lord, and told you to always compliment a young lady. I know I do not dance well. You do not have to pretend otherwise.”
His brow creased. “I find that I did enjoy dancing with you, Miss Stanhope. I also look forward to supping together.” He glanced about the room. “I do not see Tia or Merriman anywhere. It is possible they have already gone home. After all, they are newlyweds.”
She would be humiliated if he left her now, but pride stiffened her spine. “If you need to beg off, my lord, I understand. I know why you asked me to dance this evening. It had to be at Lady Merriman’s request. We had an enjoyable conversation, and I think she feels a bit of pity for me.”
He placed his hand over hers, causing an odd rush of sensation along her spine.
“First, I never do anything I do not wish to do, Miss Stanhope. That includes dancing with you. Second, I engaged you for the supper dance because I wanted to share supper with you. I would never cry off—and neither should you.”
Flustered, she said, “No, my lord. I simply meant . . . if you would rather . . .” Her voice faded, and then determination filled her. “Let me try that again. Thank you for asking me to dance with you this evening, Lord Dyer. I am eager to sup with you, as well.”
He smiled at her, causing her to grow warm. “That is more like it.”
They moved with the crowd and finally arrived in the supper room, and she couldn’t help but glance at her friends, who dined together, without the company of any gentlemen present at their tables.
“There they are,” Lord Dyer said leading her to the Duke of Millbrooke’s table.
As a keen observer of Polite Society, she knew everyone at this table by name and appearance, even though she had never been introduced to any of them.
The viscount seated her and took the chair next to her, saying, “This is Miss Stanhope. She is the daughter of Viscount Samuel. This is my cousin, the Duke of Millbrooke, and his duchess.”
Rowena greeted them, and Lord Dyer continued. “This is the duke’s sister and brother-in-law, Lord and Lady Aldridge.”
Again, she greeted the pair, then Lord and Lady Merriman arrived at the table, and the countess leaned down, warmly embracing her.
“I am so glad to see you again this evening, Miss Stanhope. I heard you did well at cards last night.”
“Yes, my lady. I had a most skilled partner.”