Chapter Five
"Lord Gracewood, what an honour to have you here," Lady Strachan said as they entered the packed ballroom.
"I thank you for the invitation," Ezra said, glancing around to see who he recognised. As his mother had predicted, he could see the Duke and Duchess of Coldingham – and it was true, the Duke had once been a greater recluse than he. But perhaps he wanted to be back in society. Ezra really did not.
"I hope you enjoy yourself tonight," Lady Strachan said. It seemed she wanted to comment on what a rare occurrence this was, but did not wish to be rude.
"I’m sure we will, thank you," Mother said, ushering him in through the crowd of people to let the next attendees greet their hosts.
‘See? It’s not so bad, is it?’ Mother said, looping her arm through his and forcing him to walk around the outside of the dance floor, where so many ladies waited, wanting to be asked to dance. He wasn’t sure he even remembered how to dance. It had been so long.
"I’d forgotten how packed these places are – like cattle on market day," he said through gritted teeth. "And no strong drink to be had, I’m sure of it."
"You don’t need strong drink, Ezra," Mother tutted. "Let’s get some ratafia, and then you can ask a young lady or two to dance before it’s time to eat.
I’m not expecting that we will stay late into the night.
I know that this is rather an ordeal for you, but there are so many lovely young women here waiting to dance. You cannot simply ignore them all."
Ezra glowered at the selection of women, feeling as though it was partly their fault that he was here, having to play this charade.
He knew that wasn’t fair, but it didn’t change his mood.
If they weren’t here – wanting to dance, wanting husbands – then his mother wouldn’t have pushed him into this.
There was a surprising selection of pretty young ladies there, considering they were in the countryside and it was the middle of the Season.
Some, he supposed, were wives or widows enjoying an evening out without necessarily being on the lookout for a husband.
Some looked like very young daughters – not old enough for a Season yet, but just acceptable to be out in society like this – and certainly far too young for Ezra to show any interest in.
And then there was a dark-haired woman in a blue dress. She was taller than the other women, and the hair intricately plaited on her head looked rather like a crown. She stood confidently, talking with the Duchess of Coldingham, and when she smiled, the room seemed a little brighter.
He was rather surprised to feel attraction towards a woman at the first event he had attended in five years.
She was probably married, of course – but he thought he would ask her to dance anyway.
After all, his mother wasn’t going to accept him sitting on the edge of the ballroom or disappearing off to the card room. So it was going to have to be done.
"Where are you going?" Mother asked as he slipped his arm out of hers.
He inclined his head towards the musicians. "You told me I had to dance, so I’m going to find a partner."
"Oh." She gave an approving nod of her head; she seemed to have expected to have to fight far more to get him to dance.
He approached the Coldinghams first, sure that they would introduce him. "Your Graces," he said with a bow of his head. "It is good to see you again, Coldingham."
In truth, he had not seen the Duke of Coldingham since he was Lord Warmley, before his father had died – before he had hidden himself away for a decade.
But there was no need to say all of that.
He had never met the Duke’s wife, although he had seen her out riding along the coastal path when he himself had been walking.
"Gracewood," the Duke said, his eyes widening in surprise. "How good to see you. How are you?"
"Very well, thank you – and yourself?"
"I cannot complain," the Duke said with a smile. "Allow me to introduce my wife, the Duchess of Coldingham," he said, holding out his hand towards the pretty blonde, who beamed in Ezra’s direction. "And this is Lady Constance Beaumont, an old friend of my wife’s."
Lady Constance gave a very brief curtsy and did not meet his eye.
"This is the Earl of Gracewood," the Duke said. "He lives over at Gracewood Castle."
"Ah yes, I’ve seen you out walking," the Duchess said. "Such a mysterious figure – although you look rather different without that beard."
She was the sort of woman that one could not help but smile back at.
"My mother made me shave it off," he admitted.
The Duke barked a laugh. ‘Mothers, eh? They can still make you do all sorts, even when you’re a grown man with a title. Don’t I know it!"
"Your mother is lovely," the Duchess said with a disapproving stare. "And you’re very lucky to have her, you know."
"Yes, yes – you both remind me every day," the Duke said drily.
Throughout this exchange, Lady Constance was silent. Was she shy? Ezra wondered. She was a striking young woman, and he could not believe that she was not used to attention.
The musicians picked up their instruments, and Ezra found himself feeling slightly nervous. It had been a long time since he had asked anyone to dance – and the last person he had asked had been Laura.
"May I have this dance, Lady Constance?" he asked, holding out his hand.
The Duchess looked between them with an excited grin, just as Lady Constance’s eyes widened in a startled expression.
"I-I-"
"How lovely!" the Duchess exclaimed. "Nathaniel, I think we should dance too."
She did not give her husband a choice, taking his hand as he shrugged and gave Ezra a what can be done about it? look – although Ezra did not think he looked particularly sad about the situation.
"Lady Constance?" he prompted.
"Very well," she murmured, taking his hand.
He was rather confused by her cold attitude. Without the beard, he thought he was passably handsome, and men were in short supply for dancing. He could not think how he had done anything to offend her in such a short space of time.
Once they were on the dance floor, the steps took over from conversation, and he was pleased to find he did remember what he was doing, even if he had not had any practice for a long time.
Lady Constance danced beautifully, with much grace in spite of her height – although she did not smile once.
"Do you not enjoy dancing?" Ezra asked when the music allowed him to.
"With the right partner," Constance replied.
So he supposed he ought to take it that he was the wrong partner.
"And what brings you to Northumberland? You’re not from these parts, are you?"
"My grandmother lives here, and I enjoy seeing the castles."
◆◆◆
"And how long will you stay?"
Constance realised he had absolutely no idea who she was. She almost laughed to herself. How ridiculous, that she could recognise him with his facial appearance so changed, and yet – because she had been wearing an old dress and her hair had been messy – he had no clue who she was.
Nor how rude he had been. Since he was clearly capable of being polite, she could only surmise that his attitude that day had been because he had thought she was a pauper.
That wasn’t really acceptable, in her mind.
She had been trespassing, yes – but unintentionally.
He could simply have shown her out, if he had been a real gentleman.
"A few weeks," she said, and she saw him frown.
He was clearly not used to such brusque responses, but she could not find it in herself to be polite to a man who had spoken to her so badly before – and then had the gall not to recognise her, merely because she had let her maid spend longer on her appearance than usual. He was clearly a very shallow man.
"And then you’ll return to…London?" he asked.
She was tempted to respond with a curt no, but thought she ought to put in a little more effort than that. "The Season will be over," she said, "so we will all return to my father’s seat in Kent."
"That’s a nice part of the world," he said. As he spoke, he caught her toe, and she winced, stepping backwards.
"Please accept my apologies," he said quickly. "I am out of practice with dancing. I did not intend to—"
Even though her toe throbbed, she waved off his apology. "It is no problem," she said, holding her head high and refusing to show him that it hurt.
Had it been a dance with a man she had found interesting, she might have thought it a disaster. But since the man had been so rude to her before, she thought it was exactly what he deserved. He didn’t ask her to dance again, and she was not surprised.
But how could he be so rude to her when she had been dressed plainly, and then act like a charming prince when she was in her finery? She hated the snobbery that came with her class, and she was glad to return to her grandmother, who had been watching from the other side of the room.
"Who was that you were dancing with, dear?" her grandmother asked, her voice a little gravelly. "I didn’t recognise him."
"The Earl of Gracewood," Constance replied shortly.
"The earl from that castle that turned out not to be abandoned?" her grandmother asked.
"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.
"Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t get caught in his house that day! That might have been rather embarrassing."
Constance tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "Yes – a blessed relief."