Chapter Eight
Good God, he could not stop staring at her. She was dressed in his family colors and never had he seen a more beautiful woman. Knowing, as he did, the goodness inside her, he could not help but be swept away.
But no matter how much he yearned to touch her again, to taste her lips, to be at ease in her presence, he could not forget her recent words. She felt pity for their plight and so would help him get rid of the ghost. But she would never forgive him for what he’d done to her heart.
He couldn’t blame her, but he also couldn’t stop wishing for a way to gain her forgiveness.
And so, though his mother clearly disapproved, he asked her for a waltz.
He planned to get her the approval of the matrons.
Indeed, given that she had blue blood in her veins, it might be enough to get her accepted into society.
This night could be her introduction to the Marriage Mart. She could, perhaps, find an excellent husband.
And that thought soured his belly enough that he’d lashed out at her. Not attacking her, but he’d asked about the ghost to remind himself that she was here to do a job. Nothing more. There was nothing personal between them because she’d made that clear.
She couldn’t forgive him and what had once been between them was now over.
His question did exactly what he intended. She looked around, her expression carefully blanked, then shook her head. “Nothing supernatural here.”
“You will remain close?” he asked. “In case of…something?”
“Yes, my lord,” she answered. Just like any servant.
What an ass he was. He hated it when she spoke to him like that. As if there was no warmth between them and never had been.
“Don’t be silly!” Susanne interrupted. “She can’t stand around waiting for a ghost to appear. It’s a ball. She will be dancing. I will see to it.”
“What?” Giselle gasped. “You don’t need—”
“No argument!” Susanne said in a cheerful voice. “It’s Belle’s come out ball. I have seen the guest list. Indeed, I helped make it. Never fear, Giselle, I shall see that your dance card is full.”
Full! With young eligible gentlemen? Jonathan could already see it. Dozens of upstart puppies falling over her. Damn it, the image made him want to turn the carriage around.
Giselle must have thought the same thing because she looked almost sickly pale. “No, Susanne. What if—”
“What nothing.” Susanne grabbed Giselle’s hand and their mother’s hand. “Stop fretting, both of you!”
Had his mother been fretting? He had been so absorbed in Giselle, he hadn’t even noticed.
Meanwhile, Susanne would not be suppressed. “All the things that have happened, all the, um, mishaps have been at home, haven’t they? Here in London or back in the Cotswolds. And never in public.”
That wasn’t true. Giselle had seen the ghost at the apothecary shop just this morning. Her expression tightened, showing that she had caught the lie too, but in a different way. “Never in public? Then why did you insist that I come along to the ball?”
Susanne flushed bright pink. “Fine. You caught me. It’s because I miss you!
You and Gwenivere both, but she isn’t here.
I cried for months after you left. And I won’t be denied one fun night with you just because…
” Her voice trailed away. “Well, I won’t.
So you shall dance tonight. And we shall think no more about what Papa did to make enemies of us all. ”
So Susanne declared, and so it was. Twenty minutes later, they entered the ballroom as any invited guest would.
They descended to the receiving line and greeted host and hostess, plus the literal Belle of the ball.
Giselle was introduced as Miss Wellard and everyone treated her as an invited guest, appropriate to be here among the ton, and welcomed thanks to her beauty and her poise.
Susanne was as good as her word. Within a few minutes of gaining the ballroom, gentlemen lined up to not only sign Susanne’s dance card, but Giselle’s as well.
If anyone had heard of her past nickname, no one seemed to remember it.
And, best of all, as more people greeted her with neutral interest, she began to relax.
Jonathan watched as the shy girl of his memory blossomed into a mature woman who knew how to enjoy herself in august company. Thanks to Susanne’s help, he caught several moments of genuine laughter in the group. And Giselle’s amusement rang clear enough that he realized his mistake.
He hadn’t signed his name on her dance card. Which meant, damn it, he needed to scramble to get his name on there or he really would be left out.
He did as he promised. He maneuvered it such that the matrons gave their permission for her to dance the waltz. And then he hastily scrawled his name on not one, but two lines. He might have gone for the third, but she jerked her hand back.
“You cannot!” she hissed, and he knew she was right. He could not dance a third time with her without declaring their engagement. And though he might have boldly taken that risk when they were sixteen, he could not do that to now.
They were ten years older. They were different people. And yet, when he took her into his arms for the first waltz, he felt like a boy again, taking his love into his arms for their very first kiss.