Courtship In The Regency Ballroom: His Cinderella Bride / Devilish Lord, Mysterious Miss

She was faintly surprised to find that the dance had come to an end, and Lord Lensborough had led her the full length of the room to where his friend Mr Farrar was standing.

‘I will leave you in Mr Farrar’s capable hands.’ She heard the smile in his voice, though she did not see the accompanying warmth in his eyes. She was gazing in perplexity at her hand. He must have held it in his own, all the way across the room, and not for one second had she felt the least bit intimidated by his superior masculine strength.

‘I assure you,’ he continued, ‘you have nothing to fear from him.’

She darted one astonished glance at him before placing her hand on Mr Farrar’s coat sleeve and meekly following him into the next set.

She had to concede that Mr Farrar was not so bad either. As soon as he had noticed how uncomfortable his flirtatious manner made her, he had dropped it with her, though he continued paying the most outrageous compliments to Julia and Phoebe.

She wondered why he felt the need to bother with her. In her experience, men of his and Lord Lensborough’s sort got far more enjoyment from making sport of a shy, clumsy creature like her. Yet they were both displaying the same tolerance of her gauche mannerisms as her uncle and her cousin’s husband, Peter, did.

She frowned as she watched Lord Lensborough dancing a stately minuet with the ponderously large Henrietta and making her laugh at some comment he had made. She shook her head, thoroughly bemused. Ever since she had fallen foul of Lord Lensborough’s single-minded determination to beat Stephen in that race to The Holme, she had written them both off as boors. But now, here was Stephen being kindness itself, and there was the marquis…

And hadn’t he just referred to Lionel as an idiot? She had thought when they met in the library Lord Lensborough had found a kindred spirit, and that was why they spent so much time out of doors together. Could it possibly be true that all this time he had been taking steps to shield her from Lionel’s unwanted attentions?

At that very moment, as if he was aware she was thinking about him, he turned his head and his eyes locked with hers. For a breath, a heartbeat or two, it was as if there was nobody else in the room. She had never felt anything like it before. The physical distance between them faded to nothing as she connected with him in a way that was beyond rational explanation.

She blinked, determined to free herself from the spell Lord Lensborough’s obsidian eyes had cast over her. She stumbled, Mr Farrar gently corrected her false step and the contact with Lord Lensborough was broken. She could hear the music again, the babble of conversation of the other dancers.

‘Mama,’ Julia trilled when that dance came to its courtly climax, ‘would it be improper to have a waltz next?’

Hester felt her hard-won composure shatter. A country dance was bearable when the only contact was brief, confined to the holding of hands, and the gentleman who partnered you was as considerate as Mr Farrar, or his lordship. But a waltz, when a man held the woman in his arms and forced her to submit to every manoeuvre he cared to make? It was a vile public demonstration of male domination over womankind in which she would never participate.

‘I see no reason why not.’ Impervious to the message Hester’s entire body was silently screaming, Lady Susan gave her blessing to the enterprise. ‘This is just a private family gathering. There can be no impropriety in it.’

Having caught the horrified expression on Hester’s face, Em rose from the piano stool. ‘I beg to differ, my lady. Not all present are members of the same family. We have here three single gentlemen quite unrelated to your daughters or your niece.’

‘Don’t be such a prude, Emily,’ Lionel drawled. ‘Must I sit out watching, while others enjoy themselves, because of your antiquated notions of propriety?’

‘By no means. You could waltz with me, I suppose, since we are cousins of a sort. Lady Hester may take my turn at the piano, since it would be unfair to put her in the position of having to refuse any of the guests in her aunt’s house.’

As the two girls crossed the room to swap positions, Lord Lensborough’s brow arched in the gesture with which Hester was becoming all too familiar.

‘You do not waltz, Lady Hester?’

Throwing him a defiant look, she shook her head. Well, now she would see him in his true colours. He would be bound to sneer—the decency she had thought she could discern beneath that haughty exterior would prove to be nothing more than a mirage after all.

‘Well, I see nothing wrong in waltzing either,’ Julia declared. ‘When I was in London, I waltzed with all manner of gentlemen to whom I am not in the least related.’

‘Then you must certainly waltz with me.’ Lord Lensborough ceased his contemplation of Lady Hester, and walked to Julia’s side. But his voice was gentle as he remarked, ‘And we will have the pleasure of hearing Lady Hester play, for the first time during my visit.’

Hester sank down on to the piano stool. Once Stephen had asked Phoebe for the dance, each lady who wished for it had a partner, and Hester struck up a waltz.

Her fingers caressed the keys softly as she followed the printed notes across the page. She was not mistaken, not this time. By upholding her decision to play the piano, Lord Lensborough had enabled her to avoid dancing without looking ridiculous.

Poor Em seemed to be suffering for her generous impulse to rescue her, though. She did not appear to be very good at waltzing. From time to time she heard Lionel mutter an oath as she stepped heavily upon one of his feet, and once, as they passed by her station at the piano, ‘Em, I swear you have all the grace of a performing elephant.’

‘I never claimed you would enjoy dancing with me,’ she retorted. ‘You cannot suppose I get a lot of practice at this sort of thing at the vicarage.’

‘You will never get much practice, wherever you go. No man would risk dancing with you a second time without the protection of hobnailed boots.’

As his back turned towards Hester, she could have sworn Em winked at her over his shoulder. Stifling the urge to giggle, Hester brought the piece to a conclusion.

The dancers applauded her playing, and negotiated for new partners. Lord Lensborough, having waltzed with one sister, quite properly asked Phoebe for the next one. Hester decided to perform a piece she could play from memory. For some reason she wanted to see how Lord Lensborough behaved with Phoebe, now that her opinion of his character had shifted somewhat.

How strange. He did not appear to be making much attempt at conversation. He looked, if anything, faintly bored. She frowned. Perhaps that tension about his mouth was not indicative of boredom, but something else. When he had danced with her, he had seemed far more relaxed. Even with Henrietta he had been more animated than this. It was only with Phoebe and Julia that he seemed so brooding.

Of course. He was on the verge of taking an irrevocable step, one that would affect his entire future. Though he had initially approached her cousins through a third party, he did now appear to be weighing the pros and cons of each prospective bride most carefully. Perhaps he took his duty to marry far more seriously than she had previously suspected.

As she watched the dancers swirling about the Great Hall, she noted with a frown that Em did not appear to be faring any better with her next partner, Mr Farrar. She had not stepped on his toes; indeed, he had her gliding about the room with a grace that seemed effortless, their steps perfectly matched.

But she was not enjoying herself. Her face was flushed. Knowing her as she did, Hester deduced Em was on the verge of losing her temper. Oh, dear, she hoped Mr Farrar was not teasing her in the manner he adopted with her cousins. They found it endearing, but Em detested flirting almost as much as Hester did. Moreover, she had very strong views about the dandy set, men, she had often stated vehemently, who lavished money on so shallow a thing as their own appearance, when there were families on the verge of starvation begging, unheeded, at their doors.

That waltz ended, but since her young cousins were clamouring for another, and Lady Gregory gave her permission, Hester struck up a third waltz tune.

Lord Lensborough became Em’s partner, and to set the seal on Hester’s confusion, promptly set about soothing her ruffled feathers, while Lionel managed to coax a smile out of Phoebe, who had come from Lensborough’s embrace looking thoroughly downcast.

The waltz, Hester concluded, was a dance that appeared to have the effect of turning everybody’s feelings upside down.

Sir Thomas declared that three waltzes on top of a set of energetic country dances was quite enough excitement for one evening, and that it was high time they removed to the drawing room, where light refreshments had been laid out.

Hester automatically began to tidy up the sheet music that was strewn across the piano lid.

It was only when Lionel materialised at her side she realised how careless she had been. With everyone else heading for the exit, she had given him an ideal opportunity to catch her on her own.

‘It is no use trying to avoid me, Hetty,’ he hissed ‘You know full well why I am here. I told you when the time was right I would come back and marry you.’

Marriage? No, not that. She would rather he blackmailed her!

He laid one hand on top of the piano, leaning over her seated form like a vulture hunched over its prey.

‘And here you are, still single, waiting for me.’

She fought the urge to cringe away from him, determined not to betray the sickening feeling of helplessness that roiled in her stomach.

‘Please move away from me,’ she managed to gasp.

Lionel laughed. ‘Why, Hetty, if I did not know you better, I would think you did not like me.’

‘I don’t.’ She forced the words between lips that were stiff with outrage. ‘And I won’t marry you.’

For an instant, as he straightened up abruptly with a curse, Hester feared he was going to strike her. It took a second or two to register that he had responded to the fact that Lord Lensborough was standing not five feet from them, with Em on his arm.

‘Miss Dean wishes to go home, Mr Snelgrove.’ His voice was icily polite. ‘She is not easy about leaving her father too long alone.’

‘It is quite a long walk across the park,’ she explained, her voice somewhat higher than usual, and far louder than it needed to be. ‘Papa will be worried if I return too late.’

Hester realised that the words were not intended so much for her, as Mr Farrar, who was standing behind the couple, looking every bit as furious as Mr Snelgrove.