Chapter Twelve
"Would you like to dance?" Ezra asked, and, as she now expected, her heart began to race.
"Yes, thank you," she said, offering him her gloved hand.
Ironically, she had danced more here than she probably would have during the Season in London. She usually avoided the dance floor, watching her sister from a distance, making polite conversation where necessary, and wondering when she might be able to escape the evening.
But here… here she found she wanted to be at the balls. And she wanted to dance.
With Ezra.
She was struggling to remember all her logical thoughts about why there was no way he could be interested in her. Because he was showing her unexpected levels of attention – even she could see that. And it wasn’t only her grandmother who was commenting on the warmth between them now.
There had been the tea at Gracewood Castle, where his mother had made it quite clear that she thought something was going on, even if she did not approve. And then there had been the gossip in this very ballroom earlier that night.
"Did you see? The Earl of Gracewood is at another society event – more this month than in the last five years!"
"I heard he’s been dancing and spending time with the Dowager Duchess of Basingstoke’s granddaughter. The one who’s visiting."
"Lucky for her."
The gossip had made her blush, and she was even more aware of the eyes upon her when Ezra did indeed ask her to dance.
But that didn’t mean she was going to say no.
"Are you enjoying your evening?" he asked, as they moved with ease through the dance steps.
Had he been practising? He seemed far smoother than he had been at the previous ball.
"I am," Constance said with a smile. "I mean – this is no castle," she continued, gesturing to the Amblewood Assembly Room, "but it is pleasant. And you?"
The Earl nodded, and for a moment the dance took them away from one another. Constance found herself waiting in anticipation for him to return to her.
"The company is excellent," he said when they met again, his eyes catching hers with a glint that made her heart flutter. "Are you finding Northumberland is holding your interest enough?" he asked. "Not missing London?"
Constance shook her head – perhaps a little too quickly.
"No. I’m not sure I ever have missed London – and certainly not when I’m in such a beautiful part of the world, with so much to divert me."
She hoped she wasn’t being too bold. She was going to mention the castles, but in that magical moment she wanted to make it clear: she was interested in him. She was entertained by him.
He smiled at her, and when their hands touched in midair, she thought she felt a spark, even through her gloves. He made her feel so hot and flustered it was hard to think straight.
"Could you ever see yourself living in Northumberland?" he asked, and her heart leapt.
Yes. She certainly could. She could see herself living there alone even – as she had always expected to be – a spinster, choosing where she lived based on her joys and passions, not on the social scene.
But now…she could not deny that she had thought of living there with him. Thought of how wonderful it would be to be mistress of Gracewood Castle alongside him.
She had thought she was getting ahead of herself, but if he was asking that, then perhaps not. Maybe there was a chance…
She nodded, realising she had probably been silent for too long. "Yes, I could," she replied.
Maybe her grandmother was right. Maybe there could be something real between them.
◆◆◆
Ezra disappeared to the card room for a glass of whisky and a brief escape from the ballroom. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave, but there was only one woman he wished to dance with, and it would not be appropriate to ask her again so soon.
He intended to ask for a second dance later that evening, but even that would cause talk. And so, to pass the time before it was acceptable, he made his way to the card room, which was filled mostly with older men passing the hours gambling while their wives and daughters danced.
"Gracewood!" a voice called, and Ezra scanned the room to see where it had come from, his gaze alighting on Lord Marshall in the far corner.
Lord Marshall had been of an age with his father, and when Ezra had been left as earl at a very young age, he had stepped in to help when the Dowager Countess was uncertain how a matter should be dealt with. He had been a close family friend, but Ezra had not seen him in many years.
"Is that you?" the old man asked, squinting through wizened eyes.
"It is, Marshall," Ezra said, approaching him. They had once been on first-name terms, but since the older man had begun so formally, Ezra thought it only polite to do the same.
"Goodness, I haven’t seen you in an age. Not since before Laura…"
Ezra winced at the reminder, as he always did.
"I have not been much out in society," he said, moving past the subject.
"Well, I’m pleased to see you out now. And if you ever need any advice – though of course you know your way around the earldom now – you know where to find me."
Ezra couldn’t help but smile. "That’s very kind. In some ways, I feel I know what I’m doing, and in others…"
His mind wandered to Lady Constance. He had not expected to feel anything, not expected to want to dance with her, to want to spend time with her. He was no fool, nor a boy green behind the ears. He knew what was happening.
And yet…did he really want to wed again? After Laura? After the pain and guilt and the loss of her – and their child? He hadn’t intended to go through that again. He still wasn’t sure he could.
But he could not get Lady Constance Beaumont out of his mind.
"Well, I am always happy to give advice, whether it is about the earldom or not. Why don’t I get a drink and join you in that whisky, and we can catch up?" Marshall said with a shrug.
While Ezra was partly keen to get back to the ballroom to see Lady Constance, he knew he could not ask her to dance again yet.
And perhaps Lord Marshall would have something helpful to say on this topic that had so confused him: remarriage.
It was hard, going from thinking you would never do something to struggling to imagine anything else.
And he hadn’t spoken to his mother of this, for she would jump on the idea that he was ready to remarry – and quite probably would not approve of whom he wished to ask.
And that would be another host of problems to deal with.
They found a table near the back of the card room with three chairs around it and no one nearby. Ezra took the wooden chair nearest the wall and waited for Marshall to take a seat, somewhat more slowly than he, thanks to his advancing years.
"Shall I fetch you a drink?" Ezra asked, realising that the viscount was still without.
"No need, my boy. The footman is bringing one. I quite enjoy these social functions – but I’m only ever found in the card room. They all know me well."
Ezra smiled. "I have not been to these functions in a long time, as you know."
"Indeed. And what has brought you back out into the world?"
"Mother," Ezra said automatically, with a sharp laugh. "You know she cannot be resisted for long."
Marshall laughed too, although his ended in a cough. When he had recovered his breath, he said, "Indeed she cannot. And so your mother nagged you into returning to society. And now you’re here, are you enjoying it?"
Ezra tipped his head to one side, weighing up his answer. "I find I am. More than I expected to. I almost feel guilty for doing so…"
"You mustn’t feel guilty for living your life. As sad as it is when we lose someone, we cannot spend the rest of our days acting as though we have also passed."
Ezra nodded. He rather thought his father’s old friend was right, even though it had taken him a long time to realise it.
"And when I think on it… I’m not entirely sure it was just my mother’s insistence that brought me out into the world. Well – that kept me out here, anyway."
"Oh?" Marshall asked, raising his eyebrows.
"I went to that first ball because Mother requested it, it’s true. But since then…"
"Something else has been making you wish to attend these events? Someone else?" Lord Marshall asked.
Ezra chuckled and took a sip of his whisky before replying. "You were always very perceptive, Marshall. Yes, you’re right – someone has kept me returning."
"A lady." There was no question this time.
"I confess, I had thought I would never marry again."
"That seems a rather severe decision for a widower so young."
"I could not imagine marrying again after Laura. And since I have not been out in society, there has been no woman to tempt me."
"Until now."
Ezra nodded, feeling rather invigorated admitting it out loud for the first time. "Yes. I haven’t told anyone. Not her, not my mother. But I find… I find I cannot imagine my future without her. And so I must be considering remarriage, mustn’t I?"
"It certainly sounds that way," Marshall said. He had always been a good listener, and Ezra wondered now why he had fallen out of contact with him. He had not been socialising, no, but he could have sent the old man a note, got his advice. It felt like something he had been sorely missing.
"So why are you hesitating? You have been in mourning a long time. No one would think ill of you for remarrying. In fact, many widowers would have remarried far, far quicker than this. Would the lady be deemed suitable?"
Ezra chuckled into his glass. "Well, you know Mother. I don’t think she thinks anyone is suitable. And I’m not sure this would be the lady she would pick. But she is a lady – the daughter of an earl – so not some wild match that will cause gossip throughout the county."
"So what is making you hesitate?" Lord Marshall asked again.
"I… I’m not sure. I think I am finding it difficult to move my mind on from believing I would never have a wife, never have an heir, to thinking that that might all be about to change."
Lord Marshall nodded and swilled the dregs in the bottom of his whisky glass for a moment before responding.
"If that truly is the reason, then you must forget what you had imagined your life to be and embrace what it is.
We all have dreams of what we think the future will be, and they cannot always be the way that life turns out.
But I do wonder, given the way you lost Laura, whether there is not something deeper to it.
Something you must come to terms with before you can offer marriage to this young lady. "
Ezra swallowed. The conversation had turned far deeper than he had anticipated. He certainly did not wish to discuss such matters in a smoky card room, although he thought that his old mentor probably had a point.
"Something to think on, eh? It’s good to see you out, and looking so well and happy. This lady, even if she would not be your mother’s choice, is clearly good for you. Don’t let the past stop you from having another chance of happiness. You’ll regret it if you do."
And with that, he finished his whisky and stood a little shakily, steadying himself with the back of the chair. "Now, there is a whist table waiting for me. But I hope we’ll see each other again soon. Not in another five years, eh?"
Ezra shook his head. "Definitely sooner than that. Thank you, Marshall. You’ve given me a lot to think about."