Chapter Ten
The second party, hosted by Lady Bowness at her Westminster home, had been more or less a facsimile of the first. With the fortunate exception of Miss Grissom and maybe two or three others, the ballroom was filled with the same people, the orchestra played the same music, and the supper table offered the same food.
Ambrose’s opinion of Miss Page, therefore, remained more or less the same.
She was pretty, knew how to dance, appeared to be gracious, and smiled often, attributes that could easily be applied to any number of young ladies seeking courtship.
By eleven o’clock that night, Ambrose had decided he’d had enough of feigning gout and watching Miss Page from afar.
There was nothing more to see, after all.
Disillusioned, he excused himself to Lady Bowness and left the party early, telling himself he was wasting his time.
The fact that Miss Page had again danced twice with the weaselly Lord Walston, and spent a solid half hour chatting with the dull Mr. Darrell, had not influenced Ambrose’s decision or fueled his grumpy mood at all.
At least, that’s what he told himself as he’d tossed and turned in his bed for the rest of the night.
Now, two days later, Ambrose found himself facing the third and final night.
The one that demanded he make a decision.
And he told himself he was not quite ready to do so.
From Lord and Lady Redmayne’s glittering ballroom, he’d made his way downstairs and now occupied a shadowed corner of the main terrace.
The night air cooled his brow and eased his mood.
He needed to clear his mind, which seemed to have developed an unwelcome attraction to a rather lovely young woman he knew so little about, who just happened to have hair like spun gold.
Tonight, as on both previous occasions, the young lady’s presence had garnered a good deal of interest, most of it innocuous, some of it undoubtedly driven by the scent of her inheritance, Walston’s being one of the latter.
All of them had looked into Miss Page’s eyes, heard her voice, inhaled her scent, and felt her gloved hand in theirs.
Ambrose shrugged off a touch of envy, but wondered how he would feel if given the same opportunity.
As for Miss Page, she’d been predictably gracious, but hadn’t shown a particular interest in anyone apart from dull Mr. Darrell.
Her smiles, when in Darrell’s presence, seemed to be a little bit brighter.
Ambrose gazed up at the stars and dared to give his thoughts free rein.
You’ll be bored to tears with him, Miss Page.
You need someone who can put a fire in your heart.
Kiss you senseless. Show you pleasures you could never imagine.
His traitorous body stirred. There. No further proof needed. I’ve obviously lost my bloody mind.
At that moment, a familiar figure stepped onto the terrace and glanced about. “Pendlewood, there you are.”
“Eskdale.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“None of your business.”
“Decided, have you?”
“None of your business either, but no.”
“Fair enough.” Edward kicked at a loose pebble. “The young lady is in need of rescuing, that’s all. Thought I’d mention it.”
Ambrose frowned. “Rescuing?”
“She’s putting on a brave face, but I believe she’s had enough of whatever it is we’re doing.”
Ambrose didn’t answer, though he knew a decision had to be made. So why was he hesitating?
“In any case, if I don’t see you before we leave, thanks for participating. I realize it was asking a lot.” Edward turned to go indoors. “And I respect your decision, of course.”
“Where is she?” Ambrose asked.
Edward halted at the threshold. “On the rear terrace, hiding from Walston.”
“Right.” Heaving a sigh of capitulation, he squeezed Edward’s shoulder as he moved past. “Leave it with me. Where will I find you?”
“I’ll wait in the main hall,” Edward replied. “I’m not sure what you have in mind, Pen, but be kind, will you?”
Ambrose didn’t answer.
Moonlight had turned the small terrace to silver and carved out perfect shadows of the stone urns and balustrades.
Lydia shrank into one of these shadows, pressed her back against the cold stone wall, and heaved a quiet sigh.
It was the third night, so where was this elusive prince?
It appeared he’d decided against any kind of meeting, probably due to her status.
In any case, Lydia was weary of the fairy tale.
Her hope and anticipation, so stimulating at the start, had waned into disappointment and frustration.
As for Mr. Darrell and Lord Walston, neither one had tempted her into any kind of continuance.
Mr. Darrell was pleasant, but she could not entertain the thought of marrying him.
She had the feeling she’d be bored for the rest of her life.
As for the intimidating Lord Walston, he’d become something of a nuisance.
Indeed, had she arrived in her own carriage, she’d already be on her way home, but she couldn’t very well ask Lord Eskdale to oblige at this early hour.
Then again, why not? She didn’t live that far.
Maybe she could feign illness and ask Lord Eskdale if she might make use of his conveyance.
He didn’t have to accompany her, after all.
Lost in thought, Lydia hadn’t noticed the arrival of the solitary man who now stood nearby. A silent stranger. She widened her eyes at the sight of him, slowed her breathing and pressed harder against the wall. The man, meanwhile, lifted his gaze to the moonlit skies.
“I get the impression you’re eager to escape this frivolous festivity,” he said softly, without turning. “Am I right?”
Lydia barely suppressed a gasp. Was he speaking to her? He had to be, since he was alone, which meant she had little choice but to respond. She fumbled over an answer before settling on the truth, which came out as little more than a whisper. “Yes, actually.”
“Then perhaps I might be of assistance,” the man continued, his face still bathed in moonlight.
“I can take you straight home, if that is what you wish. Or, since the night is yet young, I wonder if you might consider a detour. My London home is not too far, and has a large garden. Perhaps we could stop there, take a walk beneath the stars, and share some conversation.”
Lydia could scarcely breathe, for no other reason that something in the man’s voice had the inexplicable ability to tighten her chest and set her heart racing. Could it be? Was it him?
“Your London home?” she asked, hardly recognizing her own voice. “I cannot possibly, sir.”
A light pause followed, then, “Why not?”
“Because it would not be seemly.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “In fact, it would be folly. I do not know you, after all.”
“I do not know you either,” he replied, “and I would like to remedy that, but somewhere more befitting a quiet discourse. A place where I might give you my full attention. Not here, where heart and mind is so easily distracted.”
It was a shocking proposal, one that demanded an instant refusal.
But Lydia’s prudence wavered even as daring beckoned, her hesitation chased away by the foolish rattle of her heart and a flutter in her stomach.
What remained of her good sense, however, still begged caution.
“How do I know you are… sincere?” she managed.
“I believe the word you are looking for is ‘trustworthy.’ I ask a lot, I know. But I ask. I do not demand. If you prefer, I shall retreat indoors and await your presence by the dance floor. A much safer choice on the face of it, certainly.” He appeared to smile.
“But nowhere near as thrilling as escaping into the night with a complete stranger.”
Her mind in a whirl, Lydia pressed a hand to the base of her throat.
She didn’t dare ask if he was the one who’d been watching her, though an excited little voice told her he was.
Another little voice cautioned her to take the sensible option and meet him, whoever he was, at the edge of the dance floor.
Yet, deep down inside, something stirred to life.
An urge she couldn’t quite repress. A sweet madness, it flowed through her veins, overwhelming her resistance to the point that surrender became inevitable.
It was, quite simply, exhilarating. “I will go with you,” she said, refusing to listen to any semblance of reason in her head. “I will go with you, sir.”
He appeared to close his eyes for a moment. “Meet me at the front door in ten minutes,” he said, and then turned on his heel and disappeared indoors.
Lydia remained where she was, trying and failing to make sense of what had just taken place.
She searched her feelings, seeking signs of regret or hints of trepidation, but found neither.
The only reaction to this insanity was the persistent flutter in her stomach, a slight touch of dizziness, and a giggle rising up in her throat.
Let it be him. Please, let it be him. She pushed away from the wall, smoothed her skirts, and went back inside.
Lifting her chin, she kept her gaze to the front and made her way through the crowd, hoping, praying, Lord Walston would not see her. Unfortunately, before she’d even crossed the floor, his voice meandered into her ear. “Miss Page, there you are!”
Lydia slowed her step, muttered a soft curse under her breath, and turned to face him. “My lord.”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, my dear.” Smiling, Walston stepped to her side and lifted her hand to his lips. “Where did you go?’
“Outside,” she replied, gently pulling her hand free from his. “I needed some air.”
“Ah, I see.” He glanced about. “Yes, it is rather stuffy in here.”
“Actually, my lord, I was feeling unwell.” Not exactly a lie. “I fear I am still not quite myself and regret I must take my leave of you.”
“You’re leaving?” Disappointment showed plainly in his face, but Lydia had the impression it was less than sincere.
“I’m afraid I must, my lord.” Lydia inclined her head. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Wait, Miss Page, please.” He placed a hand on her arm. “May I ask how you’re getting home? I’d be happy to escort you, of course.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord, but no.” She moved her arm, forcing him to lift his hand. “I have a carriage waiting.”
The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Whose carriage? Lord Eskdale’s?
“Um, it’s…” Lydia faltered.
“Yes, it’s mine,” a male voice said, and Lydia turned to see Edward approaching. “Are you ready, Miss Page?”
Lydia barely managed to hide her confusion. “Yes. Yes, I am, my lord. Thank you.”
“Let me save you the trouble, Eskdale,” Lord Walston said. “Miss Page will be quite safe with me.”
Edward shook his head. “Sorry, Walston. I’m responsible for the young lady’s well-being.” He gave her a surreptitious wink and presented his arm. “And it’s no trouble at all. Come, my dear. I’ll see you safely aboard.”
“It’s him, isn’t it, my lord?” Lydia asked, as Edward steered her out into the hallway. “My prince. It has to be. How else can you explain your awareness of this mad escapade?”
“What mad escapade is that, Miss Page?”
“The one where I’ve agreed to take a moonlit carriage ride to the home of a complete stranger.”
“Ah. That mad escapade.” Edward chuckled. “Yes, I must confess to being aware of it. My orders were to ensure you are not led astray on your way out.”
Lydia gasped. “So, it’s actually him?”
“Him?”
“You know who I mean, my lord!”
“He will make the introductions.”
“But you do vouch for him?”
He gave her a stern glance. “Without hesitation, Miss Page. I would not let you anywhere near that carriage if I thought you were at risk. Mind you, I should still reprimand you for agreeing to this mad escapade. You should know better.” He chuckled. “You’ll be quite safe, however.”
“I certainly hope so,” Lydia murmured, as they stepped into the grand foyer. The footman opened the door as they approached and Edward glanced over his shoulder, apparently making sure they hadn’t been followed.
“Mission accomplished,” he said. “Your carriage awaits, Miss Page. Oh and, by the way, Lady Eskdale expects a full report by tomorrow afternoon.”
Lydia laughed and shook her head. “This is madness, my lord.”
“Splendid, isn’t it?” Edward winked at her. “Go on, my dear. Be off with you. And enjoy!”