An Inconvenient Engagement Read online

  She climbed into the carriage, accompanied by her Uncle. He was looking forward to the card room, while her heart was thumping. Sir William would be there, and she found herself more nervous than she could remember ever being. In her mind, she went over the dances she had learned since a girl and had been called on so rarely to exhibit. She rubbed her hands, finding the feeling of the gloves to be restricting. Still, it prevented her from being embarrassed by her somewhat work-reddened hands and short nails.

  It was a delicious experience to pull up to Hadring Hall in a shining carriage and to be attended to so assiduously by the waiting footman as she stepped free. At the top of the steps, she could see the Viscount and his wife, along with Henrietta greeting all the guests. Her uncle gave her his arm, and they ascended.

  The Viscount smiled warmly and clasped her hand with both of his. “My dear, you look lovely. Welcome!”

  His lady was less warm, and her gaze sharpened on the tiny roses that Eliza had transplanted to the neckline and hem of the dress. “Miss Denham,” and she seemed about to add something when Henrietta all but snatched Eliza’s hands in her own and added her own enthusiastic greeting. Then they had to move on, making way for newcomers.

  Eliza had only been to Hadring Hall a few times. The Countess had not encouraged her visits and she had been away at school for the past few years. Wax candles were everywhere, filling the room with warm, flickering light. She looked up in wonder as the cherubs painted on the ceiling seemed to shimmer and move.

  “Ah! You arrived safely, then.” The voice came from above and caused her to start.

  “Oh! Sir William. Yes, thank you so much.” She was breathless, and he could not help but notice how her breast rose and fell. She seemed unaware of how lovely she looked, dark hair absorbing light, light skin reflecting it. Cheeks aglow with excitement and eyes shining like flames.

  He sniffed, pensively, and she colored, then covered the giggle threatening to escape. “Sir, I pray I do not smell of fleece.”

  “To be honest, I wouldn’t know. I have not been able to smell anything but ram and barnyard all day.”

  The giggle escaped. “Well, to be honest neither have I. Thank you for your help.”

  He smiled. “If you are not otherwise engaged, I would like to claim the first two dances.”

  She barely managed to keep her mouth from dropping open. Oh please, let them be dances I know! “I would be honored,” she said sedately, but she smiled in near disbelief. He found himself charmed.

  George appeared out of nowhere at his elbow.

  “Oh, George, there you are. Miss Denham, you remember my brother George?” George bowed and she curtseyed.

  “I am sorry about this morning, Mr. Stratham.”

  George brushed it away, charmed in spite of himself. Still, he was determined to put a wedge between these two. “It is a pity that Miss Lockley can’t be here.”

  “Er, yes. I am sure she would enjoy it.” William’s smile faded suddenly.

  “She is an excellent dancer – much in demand.” George added, “I am sure you will have a ball in her honor when she comes.”

  Eliza watched the interchange with a perplexed expression. George smiled patronizingly and said for her benefit, “Miss Maria Lockley is my brother’s fiancée and will be visiting in the next month or so.”

  Something cold clutched at her heart, but she managed to smile and say, “Oh that will be lovely! I am sure she will like Lytchley.”

  William said nothing but gave her a short bow and went off with George beside him.

  He waited until they were outside on the terrace, alone, before saying tightly, “What was all that about?”

  “I wanted to make sure she understood you are engaged to be married!”

  “Everyone knows that!”

  “It didn’t hurt to remind her of the fact. It was certainly unwelcome to her.” George watched his brother’s expression go from surprise, to self-reproach.

  “In what way?”

  “It doesn’t matter, except from the standpoint of you being the gentleman and not giving her any reason to have any expectations from you. You should not even be conversing with her. Leave her to the potential husbands swarming around.”

  “They aren’t swarming her.”

  “Not with a baronet stuck to her side,” said George in a hot whisper.

  “I just asked her to dance.”

  “What? I can’t leave you alone for a moment!” George closed his eyes in near disbelief.

  “It is just a dance.” A dangerous tone was in William’s voice.

  “Which one?”

  “The first, of course.”

  George swore. “Of course. William,” he did not know what to say, “Badly done.”

  “It is just a dance.”

  “No, it’s not. It is the opening. All eyes will be on the first couples.”

  William dropped his forehead into his hand and rubbed his temples. “I am not good at this, George.”

  “That’s why you have me. Get your dance over with and leave her alone. Please, Will. Nothing good can come of your kindness.”

  Will nodded but did not say anything. After a moment, George left him.

  William went to the balustrade and leaned heavily on it, looking out over the well-planned garden. George’s words had doused the flames kindled by Eliza’s open joy. He dredged up the image of Maria and found it difficult to remember what she looked like. Blue…or gray eyes and light hair. He pushed both girls from his mind and stood up as an image of his father forced its way to the front of his mind. He knew his duty.

  Eliza had been joined by Penelope. Henrietta was still greeting and introducing people. Penelope was talking, “And Henrietta said she thought that this sash would go best, so I thought I would try it.”

  “It certainly looks very well,” Eliza agreed. They were awkwardly silent for a moment, Penelope uncertain and shy and Eliza trying to look for Sir William without seeming to be looking for him.

  “I love your dress,” Penelope tried again.

  Eliza smiled. “Well, I am sure you recognize it, friends as you are with Miss Darrow.

  Penelope blushed. “Yes, but I like what you have done with it. I never really cared for that braid.” Both girls giggled a little at that, when a gentleman approached. Eliza felt the little catch in her chest as she realized it was not Sir William, but another young man. Well made and with interesting features. “Miss Pratt – do you remember me?”

  “Reggie! I mean, Mr. Darrow. You are home now?” Her smile lit her face up, and her eyes shone.

  “Just. I snuck in the servants’ entrance.”

  “You must go tell your sister…”

  “I will, after the guests stop arriving. Don’t want to interrupt,” he said, his eyes flitting in his parents’ direction.

  “How long are you home for?”

  “Ever, I suppose. Listen,” he said as he turned back to her. “I was hoping to claim you for the first two dances.”

  “I would be honored!”

  “Let’s not tell them I am here – think of the surprise when we take the floor!”

  Penelope giggled and gently removed her hand from his. “All right.”

  The band struck the overture, and Eliza straightened looking about for Sir William even as Reggie led Penelope to the floor. She saw him approaching, but there was something amiss. Gone was the lightness in his step and he avoided her gaze completely until he was right beside her. He held out his arm and said simply, “Miss Denham?”

  She allowed him to lead her to the floor and they took their places. The orchestra struck the note and they were off. As they advanced through the steps, she noted that he avoided her gaze and wondered what had happened to cause this change. “Are you well, Sir William?” she asked as they twirled together.

  “Very well.”

  “I ask because you seem altered from before.”

  He was silent for a few moves. “Perhaps it is the crowd. The room is quit
e warm as a result.”

  “Yes, it is. But that can be a decided blessing for ladies.”

  He glanced down and noted again how her gown clung fashionably to her figure, how the color brought out the warm lights in her hair and eyes. Her cheeks bloomed, and her lips…

  “True.” His voice was a little harsh. “But gentlemen have the opposite problem of being overdressed to begin with.”

  “Your brother seems happy with his partner.” They looked over to where George was smiling at Henrietta.

  “Yes, but George is usually happy with any partner.” He blushed suddenly and made as though to add something before choosing silence.

  Eliza gave up the thought of meaningful conversation. Whatever ailed the baronet would not be cured through talk. They finished their dances in silence, and when it was over, Sir William bowed and simply walked away.

  She looked around but found Henrietta before her with George and another young man in tow. “Miss Denham, may I present Theodore Tarrington. Mr. Tarrington, Miss Eliza Denham.”

  Eliza curtseyed, and Mr. Tarrington began instantly, “Miss Denham, may I claim the next?”

  Henrietta waited for Eliza to accede before she smiled and sailed off, George following.

  “Can I get you some punch?” he asked.

  “I thank you, yes.” Mr. Tarrington went off, but suddenly Mr. Waddell, dressed in customary black, stood before her.

  “Miss Denham, so pleased to see you again. I was quite overcome with the honor of being invited by the Earl to attend.”

  “Yes,” she said, “I as well.”

  “Miss Darrow seems to be a delightful creature.” He looked with admiration to where Henrietta stood with two or three well-dressed gentlemen about her.

  “She is, yes.”

  “Perhaps I may have the honor of the next two dances?” He said this as he still gazed toward Henrietta.

  “With Henrietta? You will have to ask her.”

  He chuckled affectedly and turned to look at her. “Nay, with you.”

  Eliza had thought of no dances beyond the two she had been to share with Sir William, and now she had been applied to twice within five minutes. She longed to say no, to stay available in case Sir William wanted to dance again. Simpleton! He has made it plain enough he has no intentions of dancing further with you! She berated herself for unreasonable hopes.

  “I thank you, Mr. Waddell, but the next have already been claimed by Mr. Tarrington.”

  “Ahh.” He was obviously put out, but rallied and said, “Well then, perhaps the two after that?”

  Unable to graciously decline, and with no excuse to hand, she said, “I thank you, yes.”

  He smiled, “Excellent! Ah, here comes Tarrington with some refreshment. I will return to claim my two.” He bowed away, and then there was Tarrington beside her and the cup of punch placed in her hand. She drank, surprised at how thirsty she was. The room was growing quite warm, and she noticed a servant opening a window slightly to allow cooler air from outside to mingle with the warmed air within. The orchestra struck up again, and Tarrington led her onto the floor.

  He was a spirited dancer, evidently more intent upon showing his prowess rather than engaging in conversation. He very nearly trod on her gown while hopping to the tune a little too exuberantly. Eliza had nearly as much work to do staying out of his way as keeping up the dance with him. She was glowing with exertion by the time Mr. Waddell found her sipping punch just in time for the next dance.

  “Ah, Miss Denham! Another chance to show your accomplishments. Now, do not suspect me of a joke!”

  “No, of course not.” She said confusedly as he drew her onto the floor.

  Waddell was a very different dancer. Methodical, overcautious, and much less practiced. She again had to beware of her frock! Unlike her previous partners, he maintained a steady stream of conversation.

  “I noticed you danced the first with the baronet. How kind of him to single you out. Have you known him long?”

  “I have known him only about a day or two longer than I have known you, Mr. Waddell,” she said as she edged around him during a difficult turn.

  “Ah. I thought it must be something much more long-standing to account for his attentions.” His hands were sweaty, and she was grateful for her gloves to protect her. She said,

  “He and I were thrown together in the rescue of a shepherd’s sheep dog.”

  “Ah,” he said curtly. “Yes, I believe I heard something to the effect. Your own actions were those of an angel of mercy, however ill-conceived.”

  “Ill-conceived? The dog was in agony and needed immediate salvation!”

  He cleared his throat and smiled patronizingly, “And could have been left to the ministrations of the gentleman present. To run off into the brush with a man in tow…anything could have happened.”

  “The baronet is a true gentleman.”

  “But a man. Alone. With a young woman. Who emerged, I understand, highly disheveled and with clothing torn.”

  “The dog’s leg was broken and bleeding very badly. I used my apron to bind it so no worse injury would occur on the way to his owner’s.”

  “I only hope that in saving this dog, you have not lost your reputation.”

  “I am not ashamed of my actions at all!”

  “Your innocence, perhaps, masks the impropriety of being caught alone with a man so far from your chaperones. I can assure you; your actions have subjected you to some very impertinent remarks.”

  “By whom?”

  “Eh?” He bent as though unable to hear and seemed to study the steps of the dance more than was absolutely necessary.

  She persisted. “Who has been making impertinent remarks?”

  He made as though the dance was too complex at that point to allow further discussion and she let it drop, not caring to be drawn into another hypothetical with him. As soon as the dance was over, she excused herself and slipped off into the crowd.

  Henrietta suddenly appeared, sipping from a glass and with a gentleman in tow. “Ah! Miss Denham! Allow me to introduce the Lord Tollingham.”

  The Earl of Tollingham was rather heavy, with a broad smile and good-natured countenance. He smiled and said, “I say, so many agreeable young ladies! I am quite overcome!” He cast about around him and motioned to another gentleman. “I say, Daunton! Come meet Miss Denham.”

  Eliza caught the alarm in Henrietta’s eyes and saw her make to intervene but it was too late. The gentleman was bowing and taking Eliza’s hand. He seemed particularly caught by her name and repeated it. The introduction was complete. The orchestra began, and suddenly the Marquess of Daunton led her out onto the dance floor without even requesting it.

  She was forced to concentrate and take cues from the other dancers, as this was not one of the dances that she was most familiar with. The Marquess, though not tall, was rather too good-looking and very well aware of it. She determined to finish the one dance and refuse the next. His dancing was good, very smooth and practiced. She had to make sure to hit the expected mark so that they stayed in time as he was not one to accommodate his partner’s moves. He made no conversation, merely watched her appraisingly. She glanced up once to see Henrietta watching her from a few places away with a worried look.

  William had not been dancing, rather he had kept his eye on Eliza, noting who she danced with, rejoicing in every wince and patient look. It was at the close of her dance with Waddell that he lost track of her, only to hear after a few moments:

  “A distant relation I believe of the Darrows.”

  “Pretty gel, what’s she doing with Daunton.”

  At the marquess’ name William spun around and saw Eliza, who at that moment was holding hands with the Marquess of Daunton and completing a turn. All the stories he had heard of the young man came to the fore, and then he heard,

  “Yes, perhaps she is his next conquest.”

  A ribald laugh made William want to challenge the young man who said it at once to his choi
ce of weapons. Instead, he watched her like a hawk and without realizing how truly forbidding he looked.

  It was warm, the crush of bodies combined with the heat of the fires had overtaken the early Fall chill of the room and warmed it considerably. Eliza was positively hot by the time the dance ended and she escaped to make her way through to one of the terraces that led off the ballroom and slipped outside. The balustrade was cool to the touch, and there were torches lit in the garden below, where she could see people wandering in the semidarkness. A light breeze brushed against her, cooling the light perspiration on her forehead and neck. Her corset felt tight as she breathed deep, and she adjusted her breath.

  A shadow appeared at her elbow, and she drew back, startled. It was Sir William, and his face looked forbidding in the darkness. “Miss Denham. Are you enjoying yourself?”

  His voice sounded anything but conciliatory. “Yes, Sir, I am. And you?”

  He ignored the question. “Do you not think that you should be more careful of who you dance with?”

  She frowned, “What do you mean? I have only danced with those gentleman with whom I am introduced.”

  “The young Marquess of Daunton is not an appropriate choice of dance partner.”

  “Sir, I am unaware of what you speak. I was introduced by an associate of Miss Darrow’s.”

  “His presence is unaccountable, and he is not a proper partner for a young lady. Don’t you care that he has exposed you to some very impertinent remarks?”

  “No…I…” She roused suddenly to anger, “What is it to you if I dance with a hundred young men? You certainly did not enjoy the dances you and I shared.”

  “That is not to the point. The point is you are making a spectacle of yourself with your antics.”

  “Antics? Sir William, I protest! I have merely danced. We are at a ball, my Lord, and that is what people do. They dance!”

  “With every gentleman who asks, regardless of their character?”