Chapter Three #3
“Sometimes wallflowers have the most interesting conversation. They see everything that happens at a gathering.” He offered her his arm. “Would you care to dance and tell me your observations?”
The young woman smiled at him with a blend of joy and surprise. “I would be delighted, my lord.” It was as if no one had asked her before, and when Miss Harrow took his arm, she appeared to be bursting with excitement.
The country dance involved intricate steps that David could hardly remember for the life of him. “I fear I may tread upon your toes, Miss Harrow,” he apologized, when they lined up across from one another.
She sent him a warning look. “You may have to be mindful of your own toes, Lord Castledon. Sadly, I will likely stumble. Every last dancing lesson has fled my brain at the moment, I’m afraid.”
Whatever grace Miss Harrow lacked, she made up for with enthusiasm, and he found himself enjoying the dance.
She had a hearty laugh, and he liked her a great deal.
True to their apologies, both of them stepped on each other’s toes, but he appreciated her blunt humor and the way she laughed at her mistakes.
It was clear that her marital prospects were bleak, but more and more, he was beginning to see the woman as a viable option. So long as she was willing to be a mother to his daughter, she was pleasant enough. He could give her a splendid house, leaving her to run it as she chose.
When they began changing partners, he was startled to find himself paired briefly with Lady Sarah Carlisle. Her face flushed, and she nodded to him but looked as if she wanted the floor to swallow her up.
“My lord, I want to apologize for what happened a few years ago. I—I was wrong to try to ensnare you into marriage when you were hardly out of mourning. I hope you can forgive me.”
He tensed, remembering the night when he’d been caught alone in the library with Lady Sarah.
She had intruded upon his moment of solitude, and before he knew what was happening, matrons were trying to arrange a wedding.
He’d protested vehemently, and though the young woman had been embarrassed, there was nothing to be done for it.
“As I recall, neither of us did anything wrong except to be at the wrong place at the same time,” he said. “But I accept your apology, and I’ll admit that it hasn’t crossed my memory until I saw you just now.”
She ventured a painful smile, and he turned her in a circle. “Are you enjoying your evening, Lady Sarah?”
Her smile faded. “Not really. It seems that the ton hasn’t forgiven me for my mistakes or for my brother’s.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that, but managed, “I hope you find a gentleman who suits you.”
“Finding him isn’t my difficulty,” she admitted. Her eyes met his, and she held his gaze for a moment. “It’s finding someone who doesn’t care about my past scandals, who will see that I’ll be a good wife to him.”
There was a trace of longing there, and it made him uncomfortable to see it. “I’ll bid you good hunting, then.”
He was paired back with Miss Harrow, and then at last, he was Amelia’s partner. She touched her palm to his and said, “I see you listened to me and gave Miss Harrow a chance.” The look on her face was smug, as if to say, I told you so.
“I did. She is a kind person,” he admitted.
There was a softness that came over Amelia, and she nodded. “Few men take the time to know Lavinia Harrow. But she deserves a gentleman who can see her for the woman she is.”
He walked in a circle with Amelia, her words sinking into his consciousness. In the past five years that he’d known her, he had seen the woman emerging from the enthusiastic girl. He knew the woman Amelia had become, faults and all.
“I also spoke briefly to Lady Sarah Carlisle,” he told her. “I wasn’t aware that she was still seeking a husband.”
A flash of tension stiffened Amelia’s smile. “I suppose she is. And I hope, for her sake, that she finds one.”
He couldn’t understand why Lady Sarah would upset her so—though he remembered how the woman’s brother, the Earl of Strathland, had threatened Amelia’s family. “I’m certain she will marry eventually.”
With a chagrined smile, Amelia squared her shoulders. “I’ve been thinking, Lord Castledon. We should call a truce between us.”
“I wasn’t aware we were at war.” But he offered his hand, and she squeezed it.
Teasing mischief brimmed in her eyes, but it didn’t seem she was holding a grudge. “Only if you continue to disrupt my efforts to win Lord Lisford.”
David could give no answer, as they switched partners.
He continued the set with Miss Harrow, and before the dance ended, Amelia approached him.
In a low voice she murmured, “Come and pay a call upon us Saturday next. My aunt Charlotte is hosting a birthday party for her son Matthew, and all of us will be there. It will be a good chance for you to see Margaret and try another name on the list.”
She smiled and returned to her sister. Although it was a reasonable invitation, he wondered at the wisdom of accepting. He doubted if Margaret would seriously entertain the idea of courtship after she’d been jilted once before.
Miss Harrow was a leading candidate for marriage, not only due to her kind nature, but also because he was not attracted to her beyond friendship. There was no danger of falling in love with a woman like her.
He should decline the invitation to the birthday party. Not on Margaret’s behalf, but because every time he was in Amelia’s presence, he found himself watching her. She had always caught his eye, even when she was too young to join in the soirées and the dancing.
She was the danger, not her sister. She might be a meddling sort, with the genuine intent to help others…
but he sensed an invisible thread pulling him toward her.
Earlier, in the garden, Amelia had caught him unawares when she’d claimed to be in love with the viscount.
Her na?veté would bring her into ruin if she wasn’t careful.
But then he’d revealed too much to her. She’d looked upon him with the eyes of a woman who sympathized with him.
Although David hadn’t wanted her pity, it was the sudden pulse of awareness that caught him off guard.
Her green eyes had shone with unshed tears while she’d lifted her face to his.
If he’d dared to lower his defenses, she might have rested her cheek against his beating heart, offering the comfort of an embrace.
And God above, it had been so long.
So many times, he’d awakened in the night, reaching for the empty pillow beside him. Sometimes he imagined the scent of Katherine’s hair lingering. And the ache of loneliness kept him up for the remaining hours until dawn.
“Are you all right, my lord?” The voice of Miss Harrow broke through his dreaming, and he pushed back the memory.
“Yes, of course.” He escorted the young woman back to her chaperone, but it wasn’t long before he spied Amelia laughing with Lisford. The man was gawking at her, as if he worshipped the ground she walked upon. The more he stared, the more Amelia blushed.
David’s hands curled into fists. It wasn’t his concern, nor should he care what happened between the young woman and the viscount.
But seeing the notorious rake flirting with her made him want to snatch her out of harm’s way.
Amelia deserved better. She couldn’t see that it was all a game to Lisford.
And damn it all, he didn’t want her to lose her heart to a man who would only destroy it. Not when he could save her.
“Margaret will be delighted to see you.” Amelia greeted Lord Castledon after the footman escorted him inside the parlor.
She hadn’t known if the earl would attend the party or not, but she was glad he’d come.
He had also brought a gift for Matthew, and from the shape of it, Amelia already knew what it was—a hobbyhorse.
It was wrapped in brown paper with a bright ribbon.
The footman accepted it from the earl and took it over to the table of gifts.
Secretly, Amelia believed that she could conjure a true love match between Lord Castledon and her sister. Margaret and he had both had their hearts broken. Wasn’t it logical that they could get on with their lives together? She was convinced of it.
The earl stood at the edge of the room, as if not wanting to intrude. Once again, he was wearing black. Though it had been many years since his wife had died, it seemed that he’d never bothered to change out of mourning garb. That would have to change if he intended to seek a new wife.
“Do you own anything other than black?” Amelia whispered beneath her breath while standing beside him.
His mouth tilted at one corner. Leaning in, he kept his voice low. “No.”
“You really ought to visit a tailor,” she murmured. “Your clothes are gloomy. It will be far easier to catch a woman’s attention when you don’t resemble an undertaker.”
“But I never have any difficulty finding attire that matches,” he pointed out. “I’m told that black suits my features very well.”
“If you intend to remain in mourning, yes.” She let out a sigh and added, “Buy a dark green waistcoat. It would make a good start.”
“And here I thought you’d ask me to wear orange.” His sardonic look caught her unawares, and she suddenly felt small beside him.
Her skin tingled with awareness of how he’d whispered in her ear.
Goodness, but he was tall. She smiled up at him, but it was a way of hiding the sudden rush of nerves.
It made little sense at all, why she would feel anxious around this man.
But when he stared back, her imagination shocked her as she wondered what it would be like to kiss this man.
Amelia had never been kissed, though she’d seen her sisters kissing their spouses when they thought she wasn’t looking. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of Lord Castledon’s mouth upon hers.
No. Absolutely not. Clearly she hadn’t eaten enough breakfast, and it was addling her brain.