Chapter Eleven #2
At least there were no waltzes on the evening’s program.
As wife to the Russian ambassador, Countess Lieven probably did not want the scandal of that particular dance at her ball.
It was just as well, since Jamie only had one dance with Mari.
He had no wish to see any man holding Mari that close.
His own memories from Miss Berry’s studio were still vivid in his mind—the slimness of her waist flaring into delectably soft, rounded hips and the lush fullness of her breasts pressed against him…
Jamie groaned. It was going to be a long night.
Mari helped herself to some punch, delighted with the way the evening was progressing.
She had enlisted Maddie’s mother’s help in making sure Jamie had a full slate of dances this evening so she would be free, for once, to pursue her own interests.
From the dazed look on Olivia’s face, Mari assumed she had been included and smiled.
The ton was not always kind, as she well knew.
At first, she had been disappointed when Aunt Agnes restricted Nicholas’s allowed dances to one per set, but as Mari switched partners during the reels and quadrilles, she began to see the wisdom in her aunt’s reasoning.
The London bachelors were complimentary and even entertaining when time allowed for conversation.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nicholas observing these interactions, which only caused her to laugh merrily at whatever halfway humorous thing some young swain said.
It certainly would not hurt Nicholas to think other gentlemen found her interesting.
If only Jamie would quit glowering.
Since he had done well at the dance lessons, Mari had truly thought Jamie would enjoy himself, but the only time he appeared relaxed was when Maddie was his partner.
With the other girls, he seemed aloof and formal.
Perhaps he was not as confident as he looked.
Maddie was an excellent dancer who had no trouble following even an oaf’s lead, so Jamie could afford to relax.
Yet every time he caught Mari’s gaze, he frowned and his eyes turned dark.
“Alas, this is the last dance I can claim this evening,” Nicholas said, coming up to her as the five-piece orchestra began a lengthy cotillion. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
Was he jealous? She couldn’t tell. “The evening has gone by so quickly,” Mari replied as he led her onto the floor, and then there was no time for talk as the couples formed their squares, beginning the elaborate footwork that demanded concentration.
By the time they finished, Mari was a bit breathless.
“Would you like to take some air?” Nicholas asked as he indicated the open French doors leading to the veranda.
With so many people also heading in the same direction, it surely would be acceptable.
Mari sent a furtive look across the room for Jamie and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him talking to the Duke of Argyll, George Campbell.
His Grace was married to the sister-in-law of Lady Jersey, although the two did not seem to be close.
The men were probably discussing Scottish politics or some such thing.
“That would be lovely,” Mari murmured.
The fresh air was crisp after the heat so many dancers had generated in the ballroom.
Mari inhaled appreciatively as Nicholas led her to a somewhat secluded corner, although well within the light spilling through the doors.
“I would be remiss if I did not thank you again for the lovely roses,” she said.
Nicolas smiled. “I am glad you liked them, although their beauty wanes besides yours.”
Mari’s cheeks warmed and she was glad the veranda was only dimly lit. She knew the words were courtly flattery, but she felt like a princess hearing them anyway. “It is kind of you to say that.”
“It is true,” Nicholas insisted. “Vous sont très belle. The pitiful rose is a poor comparison.”
“Well, the buds have begun to open.”
“Oui. I chose the buds specifically for you, chère. They remind me of your innocence. The full blossoms will be your journey to womanhood. I hope you will allow me to be a part of that journey?”
Oh, my. Was Nicholas asking to court her? She felt herself blush again. That would be beyond her wildest expectations. “Yes, I would quite like that.”
He reached for her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Then consider it an offre and a promesse to which I look forward, chère, if you will accept?”
She wasn’t quite sure of the translation, but it seemed Nicholas was implying that he planned to pay her court. This was going to be the best Season. The other girls would be so jealous that Nicholas had sought her out for his attentions. “I would like that.”
A shadow fell across the weak beam of light and Mari looked up, knowing who it would be.
Jamie stood stone-faced in the doorway. “I have come to claim my dance, lass.”
Could it be so late already? Mari realized the crowd on the veranda had thinned considerably.
The air was noticeably colder as well, although she wasn’t too sure that wasn’t due to Jamie’s hostile look.
“Certainly,” she said quickly, not wanting to hear a lecture, and laid her hand lightly on his forearm, feeling the muscle tense as she did.
She hoped Jamie was not getting ready to brawl.
It would simply ruin a wonderful evening. “Shall we go in?”
“Aye,” he said, turning toward the door as the music began.
Mari gasped. The band was playing a waltz. She had a sneaking suspicion Jamie had bribed the band to play it.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes as he watched MacLeod escort Mari inside. Wesley—he saw no reason to refer to the man as his father—was right. The damned Highlander was an impediment to his goal of wedding the chit and gaining control of her family’s money.
But for now, he would let it go. For now.