Chapter 7 #2
“If you are worried about… potential disgrace, the Steeles would be less likely to take offence, given their humble beginnings,” she added.
Helena turned at their approach, displaying a smile that possessed a hint of mischief. Her mother, Mrs. Steele, nodded at the dowager duchess with the deference of someone who recognized the pecking order only too well.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Steele said, dipping in a curtsy. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
As they made their introductions, Helena observed Henry with a discerning gaze. “The duke and I have been introduced once or twice,” she said lightly, “through Charlotte Fitzgerald, in fact.”
Henry nodded. “Yes, I recall.” Something in Helena’s expression made him feel oddly on display. There was a spark in her eyes, as though she was inwardly laughing. At him? This evening was beginning to feel quite surreal.
“Would you do me the honor of dancing?” he offered, resigned to another set.
Helena’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to.”
They took to the floor, and a cotillion began. Henry steeled himself for the usual pleasantries, but Helena launched straight into conversation.
“I was speaking with Charlotte Fitzgerald earlier,” she said. “She looks lovely, don’t you agree?”
Henry glanced at Helena, catching a faint smirk. What on earth was wrong with these women tonight? “So I’ve heard, more than once,” he replied dryly. “She does wear that shade of green rather well.”
Helena’s smirk deepened. “Quite. It’s nice to see her admired, especially by those who rarely attend these functions. I believe she was telling me just this afternoon how she hopes certain people might… notice her more.”
Henry tried to keep his expression impassive. Was this some kind of matchmaking attempt? “Really?”
Helena shrugged. “She’s modest, of course. But she deserves attention, don’t you think? She’s a dear girl—kind, unassuming, and overlooked far too often.”
He hesitated, thrown by Helena’s forthrightness. “I suppose so. Lady Charlotte is certainly very lovely. I consider her a friend of long-standing.”
“Friend, yes.” Helena murmured, and the dance brought them into a turn that separated them momentarily. When they came back together, she added, “I wonder if you’re aware just how fond certain ladies are of you, Your Grace. Some might say it’s a poorly kept secret.”
His chest tightened. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Helena chuckled—a musical sound with no true malice. “No matter. I suppose time will reveal the truth of it.” She paused, then tilted her head, eyes dancing. “I only hope, if you find yourself drawn in a particular direction, you won’t let outside pressure hinder you.”
Henry frowned, uncertain how to respond. “Outside pressure is what brought me here tonight,” he admitted, more candidly than he’d intended.
“Indeed.” Helena’s gaze flicked toward the dowager duchess, who stood across the room, observing them with hawklike intensity. “Yet sometimes, it’s better to follow one’s own inclination—if that inclination happens to align with… oh, certain quiet, green-gowned ladies.”
He almost stumbled at the audacity of her implication. Quickly regaining his step, he forced a polite laugh. “You speak in riddles, Miss Steele.”
She bobbed her head. “It’s my nature, perhaps. I do love a riddle. But I love romance even more.”
Henry blinked in surprise. Miss Steele was certainly more forthright than her friends in the ton. But was she trying to set him up with Charlotte, or herself? He was completely baffled.
Before Henry could press her for clarification, the cotillion ended. Helena curtsied, and he bowed. “That was… a pleasure,” he murmured, attempting to mask his confusion.
Helena’s eyes gleamed. “Quite enjoyable, Your Grace.”
With that, she sashayed off, leaving him standing alone among the milling dancers. His mother appeared almost instantly, hooking her arm through his and leading him aside.
“Well?” his mother asked. “Did you find her an acceptable partner?”
“She dances well enough,” Henry murmured, replaying their conversation in his head and trying to make sense of it.
She sighed. “The Steeles are hardly the sort of family we want to marry into. But their connections could be useful in unexpected ways.”
Before she could march him to another introduction, he spotted William across the floor, standing near a potted fern. Henry seized the chance.
“Mother, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, stepping away. “I see Lord Fitzgerald. I have urgent business to discuss with him.”
He didn’t wait for her approval. Slipping between clusters of guests, Henry reached William, who was sipping from a half-empty glass of champagne.
His friend’s posture looked tense, his eyes straying back and forth.
Henry followed William’s line of sight and saw Charlotte dancing with none other than Roger Leonard.
“Charlotte looks rather uncomfortable.”
“She often does at these events,” William replied, shrugging.
“She hates the bustle, the crowd, the prying eyes. If you ever spot her alone at a ball, you’ll see her with her back pressed to the wall, trying to vanish.
But Leonard hasn’t left her alone all night.
Even those friends of hers have been trying to lead her away, but the man is like a limpet.
Still, at least someone is showing an interest in her, which is a wonder considering how shy she is. ”
“I see.” Perhaps that explained Genevieve and Helena’s behavior.
“I’ve been dancing with a few young ladies, letting Mother think I’m coming around. Are you doing the same?”
Henry nodded. “Yes. A temporary show of compliance, as you suggested. I’ve danced four times already, and I daresay my mother won’t be satisfied until I’ve circled the entire room.”
One side of William’s mouth hitched up wryly. “At least you have your mother’s blessing to choose from a crowd. Mine keeps threatening to corner me with a wealthy widow twice my age.”
They both chuckled just as the music ended, and the guests applauded politely. Charlotte and Leonard stepped apart, and from where Henry stood, he saw Leonard lean in again with a too-familiar grin. Charlotte’s attempt at a polite smile looked thoroughly unconvincing.
Just then, Charlotte looked in his direction. He locked eyes with her for an instant, but then she dipped her head, wrenching her eyes away even as she made her way toward him. A hint of color suffused her cheeks, and Henry felt a surge of protectiveness.
He shoved the feeling down. Tonight was about maintaining a charade for his mother’s sake, not entangling himself in the business of his friend’s younger sister.
Still, he couldn’t help wanting to get her away from Leonard.
With a slight shake of his head, Henry glanced around, anticipating his mother’s inevitable reappearance—and another introduction, no doubt.
If he danced with Charlotte, he could rescue them both.
Charlotte reached them, looking flustered.
Leonard trailed after her, a fresh glass of brandy in hand.
The sight of Charlotte’s discomposure twisted something inside Henry.
He couldn’t bear how her brow knit in distress or the tense smile she forced to her lips as Leonard reappeared at her arm.
It was clear that William was going to do nothing to rescue his sister.
Henry cleared his throat. “Lady Charlotte,” he said with a slight bow. “May I request the next dance?”
Charlotte blinked at him, the sudden relief apparent as her features softened. She hesitated only a moment before inclining her head. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Leonard glared at him. “But I was telling Lady Charlotte about the time—”
“I’m afraid your tale must wait,” Henry said smoothly, meeting Leonard’s gaze without blinking. “You can continue it later, if Lady Charlotte wishes to hear it.” He didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Sir Roger’s mouth clamped shut. Henry offered Charlotte his arm, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow just as the musicians struck up a leisurely waltz.
Henry placed a hand at her waist, the other supporting her gloved hand in his. They began to circle the floor, moving through the steps with practiced grace. At first, neither spoke, but Henry felt Charlotte relax by small degrees—her shoulders loosened, and her exhale seemed relieved.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, glancing up at him. “I… truly appreciate your intervention. Sir Roger is rather persistent.”
“I could see that,” he replied, guiding her deftly around another couple. “I apologize if I intruded, but you seemed uncomfortable.”
Her lips curved into a faint self-conscious smile. “Uncomfortable is one word for it. It’s not that he’s been unkind, but… I don’t quite share his enthusiasm for hunting stories. Or brandy.”
“He does seem very fond of describing his exploits in gruesome detail,” Henry offered.
She gave a delicate shudder. “Indeed. I’m only grateful you saved me from hearing any more of it.”
They moved in silence for a moment, stepping together in time with the music.
Henry found himself unusually aware of how the candlelight played over Charlotte’s delicate features.
Her soft perfume conjured something sweet and floral, and he felt a stab of nostalgia for the long summer days of their childhood.
As they turned again, her eyes lifted, briefly catching his. A stray curl brushed her cheek, and he fought a sudden urge to brush it aside. She really did look lovely tonight, in a natural, understated way.
He swallowed down the rush of guilt at his own thoughts. This was little Charlotte Fitzgerald, the gangly girl who used to tag along after him and William. And yet here she was, a grown woman with a quiet grace all her own.
“Thank you again,” Charlotte repeated, drawing him out of his thoughts. “You’ve no idea how relieved I was to be rescued from that oaf.”
He offered a half smile. “It was my pleasure. Truly.”
Henry found himself half regretting that the waltz wasn’t longer, as her guarded expression began to ease, and they moved in an easy synchronicity. But the dance ended all too soon. He led her back toward William, who was standing near a column with his arms folded.
“Your dancing has improved, sister,” William said.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Do you remember when Mother had us both practicing our dance steps together in the drawing room? You always trod on my toes. Thankfully His Grace is more careful.”
Henry let out a surprised bark of laughter. For a moment she reminded him of the old Charlotte, before they’d all grown up and society’s rules had forced their interactions to follow a particular set of guidelines.
“Your Grace.”
He turned to see Lady Pembroke, although neither of her daughters were with her.
Charlotte greeted her politely, shot Henry and William a brief look, and moved off toward the refreshment table.
Lady Pembroke wasted no time. “Your Grace, I must thank you for the invitation. We would be delighted to accept.”
Henry stared at her. Had all the women in the room gone mad tonight? “Invitation?”
“To your grand house party.”
Henry blinked. “A house party? I haven’t invited a single person to any sort of house party. I think you might’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
Lady Pembroke looked utterly baffled. “Of course you didn’t extend the invitation personally, or there would be no need for me to take the time to thank you now. I’d have done it then. Your mother invited us on your behalf, and we assure you, we will be there.”
With that, Lady Pembroke offered a small dip of her head and swept away to follow Charlotte’s path toward the lemonade. Henry stood frozen for an instant, blood pounding. What on earth was his mother up to now?
He turned to William, who raised both eyebrows.
“That’s news to me,” William said. “Did you mention anything about hosting a party?”
“Of course not,” Henry ground out, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why would I do that? It’s absurd. I hate these summer affairs.”
William spread his hands. “Then perhaps you should find your mother before she invites the entire ton.”
Henry nodded sharply. “Indeed.”
He looked around the ballroom, but his mother was nowhere to be seen. With a curt apology to William, he set off in search of her, threading through clusters of chatting guests and scanning each corner of the room.
Near the far side of the ballroom, just beyond the musicians, he finally spotted her in hushed conversation with two matrons. Their eyes shone with zeal, and his mother wore an expression of smug satisfaction that he recognized all too well.
He approached, schooling his features into a mask of politeness, although he was inwardly seething. Catching sight of him, the dowager duchess dismissed the two matrons with a gracious incline of her head. They curtsied, side-eyeing him before drifting away.
“Henry,” she said with mock surprise. “You seem vexed. Whatever is the matter?”
He lowered his voice. “Mother, I’ve just been informed of my supposed plan to host a house party. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Why, yes,” she replied smoothly, “I took the liberty of suggesting to a few friends that you might be amenable to entertaining some select families at our country estate next month.”
His pulse pounded. “You did what? Mother, you can’t suggest these things without my consent.”
“I’ve done more than suggest, my dear. I’ve already extended preliminary invitations. And as you can imagine”—she gestured toward the room—“the idea is most welcome. You’ve become quite the elusive prize.”
“But you never asked me.”
“Would you have agreed if I had?” she countered, arching an eyebrow. “I am your mother, Henry. And I’m doing what is best for the future of this family. Of course you’ll graciously host, won’t you?”
He realized that backing out now would create quite a stir. His mother had trapped him rather effectively, leaving him with no polite exit.
He clenched his jaw, knowing she was right. “I hope you realize what a predicament you’ve put me in.”
She lifted one shoulder. “A predicament that ends with you fulfilling your duty. Now, why don’t you go claim another dance? I hear Miss Lucy Pembroke is free again, and you seemed to enjoy her company.”
He found no words to express the storm of outrage boiling in him. In the end, he simply turned on his heel and stalked away, heading for the refreshment table. He needed a brandy.
There would be no stopping this now. A house party it was.