10. Chapter 10 #2
“Fannie’s funeral,” George finished, grief lining the proper words.
“Right so.” Ames pressed his lips together for a moment, as if to pull together his thoughts before motioning to me. “May I present my wife, the Duchess of Severton?”
George bowed his head. “Your Grace.”
I nodded in response. “It’s nice to meet you, Lord Torrington. Your mother told me so much about you when she visited.”
He did not smile, but his manners were impeccable.
Measured. Controlled. As he turned to his other cousins to greet them with handshakes, there was familiarity, but not warmth.
The British aristocracy was far more formal than I’d ever experienced, and I had a pang of longing and homesickness for American friendliness.
What George lacked in conviviality, though, Aunt Eliza made up for with her enthusiasm. It was odd to see her so warm and caring, and her son so cool and distant. She was not like the other Englishmen or women I’d met, but more of a motherly patriarch to the whole family.
So why was her son so reserved?
“Go into the ballroom and find a refreshment,” she instructed. “When we’re done greeting our guests, I will personally introduce you to everyone, Lily.” She gave Ames a look. “Because I have a feeling your husband won’t.”
Ames gave her a side-eye, but there was respect in his gaze for his aunt.
The foyer was large, with black-and-white-checkered tiles, an elegant crystal chandelier over a central table with a large vase of flowers, and dozens of people. Everything was pristine and in perfect order. The opposite of Pickering Castle.
“George’s wife?” I whispered to Ames.
“Fannie. She passed away three years ago, just a month after George was called home from sea to bury his father.”
“How terrible.”
Several people had become aware of our arrival and were whispering together in small groups. If Ames noticed, he didn’t comment.
“Why was he at sea?” I asked, trying to ignore the attention.
“He was a captain in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
“The heir to an earldom was in the navy?”
“George was the second son.” Ames turned to me, blocking most of the room from my view, offering me a little privacy.
Perhaps he had noticed all the attention.
His brothers passed by on their way to the ballroom and the whispering increased.
“George had a twin brother, Charles,” Ames explained, “which allowed George to pursue a career. He married Fannie when they were just eighteen and nineteen years old, while he was home on a furlough.”
“What of Charles?”
“We lost him to the same sickness that took Fannie. He died a week before her without a wife or children. George became the heir and was forced to retire from the navy.”
“What a travesty to lose your father, brother, and wife all within a month?”
A movement in the upper gallery of the foyer caught my eye as five children, the oldest a girl, probably eleven or twelve years old, tiptoed toward the railing to peek over.
Ames turned around to look at what had captured my interest.
“Those are George’s children,” he said.
“Motherless?”
“Yes.” There was sadness in his voice. “The youngest was not yet walking when her mother died. George has not remarried.”
“How horrible.”
An older, stern-looking woman suddenly appeared, a scowl on her face as she pulled the children away from the railing. Their countenances fell as the youngest boy stuck out his tongue at her.
My eyebrows rose. It was uncommon to see such disrespect—especially in England among an earl’s children.
The governess, or whoever she was, yanked on his arm, anger in her face. The other children glared at her.
Ames turned back to me, shaking his head.
I glanced at George, who was still standing near the door, his hands clasped behind his back. Though he tried to hide his response to what had just happened, I could see frustration and impatience in his gaze. But was he bothered by his children’s behavior—or the governess’s?
I was distracted as a man and woman approached, clearly familiar with Ames, wanting an introduction.
It took us a quarter of an hour to enter the ballroom. Every time Ames introduced me to a new neighbor, friend, or relative, his pride seemed to increase. Even though I was an American, or perhaps because of it, I was highly esteemed as the Duchess of Severton.
When we finally arrived in the stately ballroom, the guests were enjoying a quadrille.
A three-string orchestra played on a platform in the corner and at least a hundred people participated.
It was a wide array of society, from all stations of life.
Though everyone appeared to be in their best dresses and suits, the quality and styles varied.
But, regardless, everyone was happy and enjoying themselves.
And Brant hadn’t wasted any time. He was dancing with Molly.
Her cheeks were bright pink, and her eyes were glowing as she grinned at him while he spoke and laughed and led her in the dance. His charm was infectious and his confidence was attractive. Molly didn’t appear to be the only woman in the room who noticed him.
Apprehension wound inside my stomach as I glanced at Ames to see if he had noticed the two of them together.
If the irritated look on his face was any indication, he had.
Collins, Davis, and Everett were all dancing with their own partners, young women I hadn’t yet met, who looked completely besotted with their companions.
I had to put my hand over my mouth to hide a smile as I watched Everett try to keep up with the steps.
He had struggled the most in our dancing lessons, but he kept trying and his partner was sweetly obliging.
When he turned in the opposite direction he should have, Collins put his hand on Everett’s shoulder and turned him the other way.
But it caused Everett to lose his balance, and he fell against a young woman nearby.
He caught her before she fell, holding her in his arms. She was startled at first—but when she saw who had bumped into her, she batted her eyelashes and giggled as they righted themselves.
When Everett was back in position, he tossed a wink at Collins, which made me wonder if they hadn’t planned the misstep.
Around the room, several young women were paying close attention to the Welby brothers. When I glanced at Ames again, though, he was analyzing the room with a different intention.
I followed his gaze and noticed several young men with displeasure and anger on their faces as they watched the Welby brothers.
More introductions were made in the ballroom as a country dance was called and two lines formed. I wasn’t familiar with the steps, but the song was lively and rhythmic. I tapped my toe as I watched the dancers promenade and do-si-do.
Despite their best efforts, Collins, Davis and Everett did not know the dance either, but the young women seemed happy to assist them—and they were happy to accept the help.
When Aunt Eliza entered the ballroom, everyone clapped their appreciation for her and she smiled, waving away their gratitude with a flash of her hand.
She approached us and frowned at Ames. “Haven’t you asked your wife to dance yet?”
“You know I don’t like to dance publicly,” he said to her.
“Pshaw. You’re married now. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it. Does your wife like to dance?”
I didn’t want to get Ames in trouble with his aunt, but I needed to be honest with her. “I do.”
“There you are.” Aunt Eliza nudged Ames toward me.
He looked like he wanted to protest, but, instead, he offered me his hand as the song came to an end and the musicians prepared for the next one.
“You don’t need to dance with me if you don’t want to,” I said.
He didn’t wait for me to give him my hand but reached down and captured it. “Aunt Eliza will pester me until I do.” He drew me closer to him and lowered his voice. “Besides, I’ve been looking for a reason to hold you all evening.”
Pleasure swirled through me as the orchestra called for a waltz.
I allowed Ames to lead me onto the dance floor as other couples gathered around us.
Molly was in the arms of a man I didn’t know. He held her a little tighter than necessary as he spoke close to her ear. I couldn’t see her face, but her back was stiff—and I could see Brant’s face from where he stood against the wall—and he did not look pleased.
The waltz started and Ames drew me close—much closer than we had danced together at Lady Sheffield’s ball a month ago.
In some ways, it felt like I’d been his wife for years—and in other ways, as if I hardly knew him.
Neither of us spoke as he twirled me around the ballroom. I could feel people’s gazes upon us, but I didn’t tear my eyes off him, and he never looked away from me. I had a feeling he was thinking about what I’d said to him just before we left the castle.
I know I was.
Why couldn’t our marriage be both a business deal and a love match?
As the waltz came to an end, Ames led me toward the doors at the back of the ballroom. I didn’t hesitate or try to stop him. I wanted to be alone with him, to speak to him about the things on my heart.
The sun had set, but torches danced in the gentle breeze and lined the back lawn, offering a clear path toward the cliffside. There was another couple on the terrace, though they were at a distance, their silhouettes outlined against the darkening sky.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Ames said. “It was getting too crowded in there.”
“I don’t mind.”
My hand grasped his inner elbow as he led me down a crushed-seashell path.
“I want to show you something,” he said.
My stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of being alone together.
We moved farther away from the house and down a set of stone steps that had been carved out of rock to a terrace cut into the cliffside. Torches lit the steps and offered just enough light to reveal a stone bench.
The view was breathtaking.